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Chapter Text

Severus had always known that he would die in a painful, most horrifying way. His life had prepared him early for that possibility. Getting thrashed around by his Muggle father in his childhood, then nearly mauled by a werewolf as a teen – instances like these had been dead giveaways that he wasn’t Lady Luck’s favourite child by far.
Sure, Severus certainly hadn’t done himself any favour by foolishly pledging allegiance to the Dark Lord who suffered bouts of destructive rage directed at everything and everyone in his sight. Becoming a spy hadn’t increased his odds of survival either.
Expecting a gruesome death wasn’t the same as preparing yourself for it, though. When Nagini’s teeth ripped through Severus' skin, he felt himself panicking, regretting. As his body was becoming immobilized by the venom, he watched his blood gush from his neck uncontrollably, damning him to death.

Even his last breath wasn't allowed to belong to himself, since he found himself staring into Harry bloody Potter’s green eyes as a final humiliation life had in store for him.

“Take it,” he somehow rasped through the spreading paralysis. Take whatever you want. Severus was so done with suffering.

His sight became blurry.

There really was nothing in that desolate shack to give him comfort, to distract him from the pain and regret and … everything.

Despite pouring out his memories, he felt heavier, not lighter. Potter’s head moved over his face, and Severus forced himself into a blink. His eyelids finally complied and closed but then refused to open again.

It was unfair. All that pain, and being alone, and …
Why always him?

You disgust me, Dumbledore had said when Severus had first kneeled in front of him and begged for Lily’s life.

Do I still disgust you?
Has really nothing I’ve done … earned me a slightly less painful death?

Just one more time. Just one more time he wanted to look into those green eyes. He had never found forgiveness in them. Hadn’t done enough to inspire that emotion.

Just one more glimpse.

…

But life once again decided not to respect his wishes.

When he finally managed to make his eyelids cooperate, it wasn’t green orbs that greeted him but brown irises full of contempt. There was an angry cut on Potter senior’s cheek from a Sectumsempra.

“Of course you’re my personal hell,” Severus uttered spitefully, shielding his face from the blinding sun. This explosion of light after the dimly-lit Shrieking Shack left his mind reeling from pain. The students laughing in the background were nothing but white noise to him as he could feel the summer breeze on his bared legs. Magic kept him afloat in the air in a mockery of a marionette on strings.
Nagini’s venom must have finally reached his brain. Why else would it think he would like to relive his greatest hits before dying?

“Your pants really are as dirty as your hair!”

“Let him down!” Her voice cut through Severus’ thoughts like a sharp knife. Lily who had crossed the courtyard only moments ago put her hands on her hips in disapproval.

“Suuure.”

Before he could brace himself, Severus crashed onto the ground, his face smashing right into the grass. For a moment, he remained completely still, which led to Lily sinking onto her knees next to him. “Oh my god, are you okay?” She sounded … worried.

Why had he even bothered fighting back all those years ago? He didn’t feel like moving. He didn’t feel like talking. Just…. Whatever.

“Like I said, Evans. I’ll leave him alone if you go out with me,” Potter repeated his offer.

Severus buried his head in his arms. He had enough of this teenager crap. He was just … tired.
It had never been about him, he thought bitterly, their fights were just excuses to dance around each other before mating.
Instead of disturbing their squabbling, he pretended not to exist. Maybe his wish would come true if he tried hard enough.

How many of these did he have to go through before his dying brain would just shut off already?
Which memory would be next? His marking?
He instinctively grabbed his yet unblemished arm.

“Sev, are you hurt?”
He opened his eyes, staring right into her green eyes in utter confusion. Wait. Did she just ... go off-script?
“That’t it, Potter! This time I’ll tell Dumbledore!”

“We didn’t do nothing,” claimed Black enraged. “He’s just pretending. Wants to get us into trouble, that arse. Maybe I should give him a reason to whine!”

“Just you try.”
His voice sounded … weird. Childish. It had not reached the low pitch yet that would make students run for the hills.

Severus collected his limbs, pushing Lily’s helping hand away. He self-consciously rolled down his robes over his skinny legs and greying underpants before facing the Marauders wand in hand.

He did not know whom he hated more when looking at these four boys.
Two got what they deserved, two … were alive-ish. Lupin, the coward, was on the run, that much he knew. Or had still been on the run when Nagini took a bite from Severus' neck. And Pettigrew … such a turncoat. A rat through and through.

“Don’t! Don’t hex him, Sev!” Lily grabbed his arm as if she expected the worst of him.
Well, of course she did. That’s who he was. Well, had been.

Then, reality caught up to him. This was not how things turned out the first time.

Call her mudblood and fix it, his brain suggested. You know how this goes. Finish the memory.

However, the decision was taken from him.
“Come on, boys. Let’s grab lunch before the next exam.” Lupin nervously pushed himself between Lily and Potter, smoothly directing his friends towards the Great Hall.

The bystanders dispersed as well once they realised the show was over. Some students were snickering while making lewd gestures towards Severus.

Suddenly, he felt naked. Raw.

Severus put his hand around his waist as if to make certain nobody could remove any of his clothes. The school robes were so open … so button-less.
Was this not a trick of the brain but ... punishment? His Catholic father had talked often enough about hell and purgatory and ...
Don’t make me go through the days after this memory. Please. Please don’t make me face everybody’s reactions again. Just move on. Getting marked sounds great right about now.

“Sev, talk to me. Is everything okay?”

He looked up in Lily's face. It was so young. Innocent. Alive. His mind certainly remembered her well.

“Stop toying with me! Just ... Just leave me alone!”

Forcefully, he pushed her away and ran, ignoring Lily's pained cry.

Chapter Text

The memory just would. Not. Stop.

Severus sat in the middle of the Shrieking Shack exactly where a puddle of his blood should be. It felt right to be here. This was where he belonged – not down in the Great Hall with those children.
The paw prints in the dust reminded him of home.

After twenty minutes of waiting for the other shoe to drop, he pulled himself together. He didn’t know what was going on, what had caused this … time travel. Because that’s what it was, if he was honest with himself.

The first thing he had done after entering the Shack was to slice his finger with a quick Sectumsempra to force his brain into waking up. He could feel pain. During the confrontation with Potter, he had also pushed Lily’s arm away. It was a scary realisation that he was trying to process. He could touch things, change things. This was no mere ghost of a memory, no fever dream.
In a moment of utter madness, he had considered that this was Dumbledore’s doing. That this manipulative old bastard had cursed him as a final task to prove himself redeemed. Maybe Dumbledore had dabbled with time-turners just like how he could not keep his fingers to himself when it came to that cursed ring. Then Severus cast that thought aside. Magic ceased to exist when the owner died. And one thing Severus was quite certain about was that Dumbledore was dead as a doornail.

No, he had to accepted that he couldn’t wish this situation away. So he had to face it, head on.

***

Walking into the Great Hall in his dirtied uniform – cobwebs from the shack, grass stains, just the general second-handedness of his clothes – required more courage than facing the Dark Lord in his final hour. Children were cruel creatures. He could feel stares on his back while he was walking … towards the teachers’ bench.
Wrong direction.
Yeah.

Nervously, he corrected his course, letting his eyes wander down the aisles.

It was upsetting to know what would become of these innocent faces. At the end of the Gryffindor table, Frank Longbottom was holding hands with his girlfriend. Alice Fortescue whispered sweet nothings into his ear going by the sudden blush he was sporting.
Then there was Mary Macdonald who was chatting with Lily. Her blond locks were softly bobbing up and down. Hadn’t she killed herself sometime after the incident with Mulciber? Severus couldn’t recall her fate beside the fact that she was long gone in their time.
Marlene McKinnon broke out in a hearty laughter once Macdonald finished her story. No doubt about her future. Severus had been present when Mulciber tortured her to death in her family home.

Severus continued down to the Slytherin table. Unsure, he chose a vacant seat near the end, far away from his classmates. He really didn’t feel like dealing with Macnair, Mulciber and Avery right now. And it wasn’t like they would miss him. No homework during exam week.

The group of third-years that he had sat down next to threw him a disgusted look. The two girls moved away a couple of inches before picking up the conversation about their crush. Urgh. Who the heck was Professor Cadogan?
Confused, he checked out the teachers' table. Seeing their mostly unchanged, adult faces was reassuring, in a strange sort of way. Despite the bad blood between them in his year as headmaster, he felt connected to Minerva, to Filius, even to Binns. Of course, Slughorn occupied the chair that was supposed to be his. Full of jealousy, Severus watched his former Head of House share a private joke with Pomona. Finally, he dared to look at Dumbledore. This was one face that he could do without. Guilt seeped into Severus’ mind, putting pressure on his lungs, his heart.
The headmaster seemed alert while studying the newspaper. Severus could only guess which of the Dark Lord’s evil deeds were hidden in those pages. He didn’t even know the date. Should he ask the third-years next to him? In a morbid way, he was curious how they would react if he talked to them.

Suddenly, Dumbledore looked right at him. Severus threw up his Occlumency shields instinctively, averting his gaze as if caught red-handed.

***

“I don’t know.” Severus did not even bother trying to fib his way through an answer.

After lunch, he had followed his classmates to the next exam. Unlike them, he had not done any last-second studying. He wasn’t even sure what the subject would be when he was called into the classroom for the practical examination. Apparently, Transfiguration it was, as Minerva and a ministry official greeted him with a functional smile. When he was a student, she had disliked him almost as much as when he was headmaster. Despite that, Minerva was a professional through and through. That smile ... she was trying to reassure him, to make him feel less nervous. In a weird way, Severus was thankful for that kindness. Had he noticed that back when he sat the OWLs the first time? He could not remember.

“Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration,” Minerva repeated as if he was a small child who did not understand the words.

“Yes, I don’t know that.”

She blinked three times while the ministry examiner scribbled some notes on her clipboard.

“We revised the concept last week, Mr Snape.”

And while Severus was certain that he had paid attention in that class, it had been twenty years. It wasn’t like you needed to know those definitions to do transfigurations.
“Look, can we just skip that part and I transform this tea cup into a hedgehog or something?”

Apparently, Minerva did not care for his disrespectful tone based on how she crushed her teeth together.

While going through the motions and declining to answer questions on Transfiguration theory, Severus just felt disengaged. The first time around, he had put everything he had into his OWLs. Getting good grades was supposed to be his exit card from this miserable life of insignificance. He had - honest to god - believed that he would go places. That he could just leave Spinner’s End and Hogwarts behind, and make a name for himself if he just suffered through seven years of school and bullying. Maybe find love, too. In the end, his full set of Os had not made any difference. All his life, he had remained stuck in this castle as Dumbledore’s henchman.

So, he really couldn't care less if Minerva failed him.

***

“Heard you blew the practical.” Avery plopped down next to him during dinner with a big grin on his face. There had always been a mean streak in the boy and it showed in his eyes.

“What do you want?” Severus asked quietly.

“Come on, Sniv. I just wanna know if it’s true. Did you really fail transfiguration? Didn't you, like, study for weeks?”

Severus just shrugged, taking another bite from his sandwich. He had nothing he wished to discuss with Avery, child or man version. Sure, he was the Slytherin Severus had always been the closest to. Macnair was a terrifying sadist, which did not improve with age. He liked killing animals just as much as humans. And Mulciber – he was a fanatic, an extremist even among the Dark Lord’s followers. Compared to them, Avery was tame. Just an untalented mean-spirited boy. On the other hand, he was hardly somebody whom Severus could trust. Avery was selfish like that. More than once adult-Avery had spied on Severus to inform the Dark Lord about some perceived suspicious behaviour.

“Don’t you deny it. I heard McGonagall talk to Sluggy in the hallway. Said you couldn’t explain Gamp’s Law to her, let alone the five exemptions. Didn’t you lecture the class on that just last week?”

Apparently, he had. “What do you want?” Severus growled annoyed.

Avery raised his hands in defense. “Careful, if Walden hears you talk like that, he’s gonna hex you, half-blood.”

Half-blood. Mud-blood.
Severus grabbed Avery’s uniform collar and pulled him close. “Care to repeat that to my face?”

Avery almost wet his pants going by his squeaky voice. “What’s wrong with you?”

Everything. Severus exhaled slowly before releasing Avery.

“Wow, Potter really got you in a mood,” the future Death Eater commented. The boy hesitated for a moment, before smiling deliberately and making sure that the Slytherins around them settled down after Severus's dangerous rebellion against a pureblood. “You should get your anger issues under control if you want to serve.”

***

It was in the middle of the night when Severus gave up on finding a whisp of sleep. The boys around him felt like threats despite the fact that they were just that. Boys.

It had always been difficult to fall asleep because Mulciber snored terribly. Nobody wanted to sleep next to him, so Severus always lucked out on being put there by democratic decision. Today, falling asleep proved impossible.

Avery had brought up one important point that he had not found an answer to. What did he even want to do with his life?

It didn’t feel like a second chance. His friendship with Lily was in tatters even without calling her the m-word. The teachers disliked him, his fellow Slytherins looked down on him. There was little family support he could expect.

Go away and start anew. That was one option, and quite an alluring one. You are good at surviving. At making due.
Leaving without any school credits, without any money or any allegiance. It was an insane idea.
For five minutes, he allowed himself to imagine such a future. He could start a potions-delivery business. He could go to the US, travel around, explore. See something else than these dreary castle walls.

Then, reality caught up to him. He could never outrun the guilt even if he went to the other end of the Earth.
He knew about the horrors that were to come.
If there was just one death that he could prevent… then was it not his duty, his responsibility to do everything in his power to save that one life?

Maybe that was it. He, Severus Snape, did not deserve a second chance. That one he knew by heart. But maybe destiny had decided that others did, and he was supposed to give them that second chance.
All those faces that he had seen in the Great Hall swam to the forefront of his mind. Lily. McKinnon. Macdonald. The Longbottoms. Then, even if he hated them … Potter. Black.

Alright. Once again into the breach. For the greater good, as Dumbledore would say. Severus couldn’t stop chuckling desperately.

“Will you shut up and stop rolling around?” Macnair grumbled and threw a pillow across the room.

Severus closed his eyes and dived deep into his mind. This was a plan that must never be put to paper.

First, he had to find out how to stop Voldemort. It was a pity that Dumbledore had never fully trusted Severus. Well, he had trusted him with his death, but not with his secrets in life. However, the headmaster had unwittingly given him two clues. It was not a lot to go on, but it was all he had.
Nagini must die. And so must Potter. Otherwise, the Dark Lord cannot be vanquished.
So, what kind of magic can tie the lives of living beings together?

Priority 1 on his agenda: Find out why the Dark Lord cannot be killed directly and rectify that.

Time was working against him. Two weeks left, then it was the summer holidays and he would be stuck in Spinner’s End without any access to magic or owls. He would have to hurry up his research right under Dumbledore’s nose, unfortunately. He could just imagine how much the headmaster would love it if he found out that one of the upcoming Death Eaters was looking into immortality spells.

Two things were certain if he wanted to stay in control.

Nobody must find out about his knowledge of the future.
Nobody must find out about his allegiance.

Chapter Text

The written history exam was just as atrocious as Transfiguration had been: Who had decided on this horrible line-up? These were the subjects you definitely could not pass without a lot of studying. Potions, on the other hand … why could it not have been Potion Day of the OWLs?

After handing in a mostly blank exam sheet, - giant wars had not quite been on his mind for twenty years - Severus was free to roam the castle as he pleased. His classmates celebrated in the yard, with the Marauders even starting some magical fireworks that reminded him of the Weasley twins’ exit from the castle. The fifth-years were dancing to music and burning their history books on a bonfire. For once, all houses were united due to their shared hatred of Binns’ class.
Nobody ever cared about Severus unless they specifically wanted something from him, so he broke away from the crowd after accepting a butterbeer from Avery.
Only Minerva did look up when he passed her in the deserted hallway, but his dour look kept her from commenting.

***

The library was filled with desperate students from the lower years who had their finals once the OWL and NEWT examinations were finished. That way, they were too busy revising to actually cause any havoc.
Irma Pince was quite new at her position, barely managing to keep these animals in check. “If you dare write in this book, too, Shacklebolt,” she screeched across the room, “I will have Filch hang you by your toes!”
Severus glid past her. It was one advantage of being such a disliked person. Nobody wanted to talk to you and nobody wanted you to talk to them, so they would not look in his direction hoping that he would not decide to sit next to them.
His wand hidden beneath the winter uniform that he had chosen despite the warm weather, he disarmed the alarm spell next to one of the forbidden shelves. He had spent a lot of time in the library during his past twenty years as a teacher. He knew the charms as if they were his own.

Time to speed-read the table of contents, then go through the works cited section, find books that sounded the right sort of evil, and repeat.
He was looking for everything that scratched on the topics of immortality. Of linked lifeforces.
For hours, nothing useful came up, just the same old story of Nicholas Flamel’s philosopher stone.

When the students left for dinner, he disillusioned himself to evade Irma's round-up and continued his research after the library's closing hour. Nothing. It was as if all articles, all books on the topic had been removed from the library. Annoyed, he dropped the disillusionment charm, almost giving Irma, who sat at her desk and was reading one of her moronic romance novels, a heart-attack.

“Mr Snape, it is past curfew!”

“I would like your help with something, please,” he requested politely. Severus made sure to stand properly before her desk. She did love order.

“I should have sent you to bed an hour ago!” She muttered something under her voice which sounded suspiciously like ‘My eyes must be getting worse. How did I miss him?’

“And I promise to hurry back to the dorm, but I have an urgent question. I was looking for a book. I know it exists, it is referenced in three other books. I also found an index marker saying that the library should have it. But it’s not on the shelf.”

She frowned. “Which title?”

Severus hesitated. “Magick Moste Evile. I need to study for the Defense Against the Dark Arts exam.”

“Wasn’t that yesterday morning?”

Damn.. “I mean, I want to look up an answer from the exam. I … I just need to know that I didn’t ruin my grade. It has to be an O, you see. To …” He searched his brain. “To become an Auror.”

Irma’s eyes went wide, probably because she knew about his Death Eater friends. He also wasn’t quite known for playing by the rules. At least half of the credit should go to the Marauders, though. Four on one was not fair. It did not inspire him to play fair either. “An Auror?”

“Yes. My dream job. Anyways, the book?”

She pinched her nose, but despite her misgivings she sat down and looked through the catalogue under her desk. “It’s in the forbidden section,” she informed him as if he was an idiot. “Do you have a pass?”

“Of course, I do,” he lied. Faking a teacher’s note was hardly the crime that would damn his soul for eternity.

She put out her hand, but he ignored the gesture. “The book isn't there, though.”

“It should be.”

“It’s not,” he contradicted her just as annoyed as she seemed with his presence.

“Not in that tone, young man.” She stood up and briskly crossed the room to look for the book herself. It was a couple of minutes later that she returned, no book in hand. “Let me check the records.”
It took her another five minutes to find the related card. “Oh, the headmaster has relocated it to his office for continued personal use. Would you like me to inform him about your request? He often keeps books to himself, but when a student needs one of them, he always returns it to the library.”

Yeah, definitely a bad idea to ask Dumbledore for a book called Magick Moste Evile.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just ask Professor …” Oh god, who was their professor for Defense this year? There had been so many when he was a student, let alone when he was a teacher… Cadogan, maybe? The one the third-years were mooning over during yesterday’s lunch? Or was that the teacher for Divination? He hadn’t taken the subject, who knows who taught that rubbish twenty years ago! “I’ll just ask the professor.”

Irma eyed him suspiciously, but then shrugged it off as there had been no harm done and no book taken. “To bed now, young man. Good luck, tomorrow.”

Dear god, were there more exams tomorrow?

***

On his way back to the dorm, Severus was in no hurry. To teenagers, losing house points and getting detention seemed like such a punishment, but he couldn’t care less whether a prefect caught him out after curfew or not.
His steps echoed quietly across the hallways. It relaxed him to be surrounded by nothing but silence. For once, he did not feel like he was constantly in danger of revealing himself as an impostor. During the day, he was just as wrapped in solitude, but then it did not seem like a choice as his abrasive character and unkempt appearance had long branded him an outcast. He had tried to fit in a couple of times, he supposed. Sometimes, he would make an effort to become part of Lily’s Gryffindor circle, especially in first and second year, sometimes he would hang around Macnair and Mulciber.
It never stuck.
Walking through the hallways, he could pretend to still be the old git, the bat-like potions professor who stalked the corridors at night to prey on lost students. He had liked that image a little bit. In this teenage body with the not yet settled voice, he commanded no one’s respect, though.

“Don’t touch me!”

Severus stopped in his tracks.

“Leave me alone, you jerks!”

Mean laughter cut through the night’s silence and harsh voices started to fight with the girl.

“What’s going on here?,” he demanded to know once he turned the corner. Macnair and Mulciber had Macdonald In their midst, definitely ganging up on her to prevent her from running away.

“Oh, shove it, Sniv. Watch the hallway, or go back to bed.” Mulciber turned away from him. The pureblood had never seen him as anything but an eyesore. Definitely not an equal, let alone a danger to any of his plans. Mulciber was somebody who had ideas. And he had people like Macnair act them out. Alert, Severus took in Macdonald’s state. The girl was properly dressed in her uniform, but her eyes were red and there was a distinct colour to her cheek.
Mulciber had a thing for cursing this girl, Severus suddenly remembered. She had been part of his fight with Lily. Lily had criticized him heavily for hanging out with the guy after ‘what he did to poor Mary’.
Oh.
It was the hair. Mulciber always picked the blondes during their Death Eater raids.

“I saw McGonagall come this way,” Severus lied, staring at Macdonald’s arms. She had crossed them in front of her body as if to shield herself from the Slytherin boys. Her shoulders were raised and her breasts were heaving.

“Shit!” Macnair bolted without a glance back. Mulciber, though, narrowed his eyes almost … sensually. “See you, Mary. Love you and leave you.”

The girl broke out in tears instantly, not even managing to keep the water at bay until Mulciber left the corridor.

Shit.
Severus slowly exhaled, putting his hands in front of him to show that he had no wand. “You should go back to your dorm, now. Okay, Macdonald?”
The girl sobbed harder, then she turned away from him and ran.

Spending the night in the same room as Mulciber almost killed Severus. He had changed his opinion – the guy was a worse monster than Macnair.
Severus had known that there was a history between Macdonald and Mulciber. He hadn’t known the details, though. And he suspected that Lily hadn’t either when she scolded him for being friends with the Slytherin. Maybe … Macdonald hadn’t told anyone the truth.

Everybody knew he had used the Imperius on the Gryffindor. He had boasted about mastering it often enough in the common room. However, Severus’ idiotic teenager brain hadn’t yet possessed the darkness back then to imagine what Mulciber could have wanted her pliant for.

Now he had a general idea of why Macdonald might have killed herself in his past.
The million dollar question was: What should he do with this information?

Chapter Text

The truth was that there was nothing Severus could do about Macdonald’s situation unless he somehow acquired a time-turner. The damage was done. She also moved in her supportive Gryffindor circle which prominently featured Lily Potter. Evans, he corrected himself in his own mind. That would take some time to get used to.

Pensively, he observed the Gryffindor girls during breakfast, ignoring the nasty jokes about his unrequited obsession that Avery threw in his direction.
Despite her red eyes, Macdonald seemed fine. Stable enough. Although she did flinch whenever somebody moved too quickly behind her back.
Potter made his entrance, the hair sticking up in a mixture of bed-hair and teenager cockiness. He had a brief chat with Lily, then he sat down next to her. The boy caught him staring and gifted hjm with a victorious grin. Severus averted his eyes submissively. The last thing he needed was a duel with Potter over something as stupid as being perceived as a threat to their romantic happily-ever-after.

To be honest, Severus just couldn’t muster up any desire to rekindle his friendship with Lily. Regretting his part in her death was one thing, but his former feelings were tainted by the ease with which she had fallen into Potter’s bed. Even as a teenager, he had never suffered the illusion that she would choose him. He actually would have supported her relationship with everyone but Potter or Black.
Anyways, Lily had her own raft, and he … well, he definitely wasn’t welcome on that. Which suited him just fine as he had a mission and no time for games.

Suddenly, the bench under him groaned with the added weight of Macnair. “Oi, Sniv, let me borrow your potions book.” The boy did not even wait for a reply. He grabbed the text book next to Severus’ sandwich and studied the personal notes on the margins of the recipes.

“You are welcome,” Severus quipped before taking a sip from his coffee.

“Not like you need to revise.”

“Unlike us normal blokes who don’t like to cook,” Avery joked at Severus’ expense. The boy had his own notes spread all across the table and rearranged them every couple of minutes. Going by his desperate face, this was one OWL he would not pass. Severus was hardly surprised. While the boy was a quick thinker, he was almost as clumsy with his hands as Longbottom.

“Where’s Mulciber?” Severus inquired casually.

“Stalking some Ravenclaw girl, I think.”

“Shut up, both of you!” Avery sighed deeply before hitting his own head with his fist. “It just won’t go in.”

Then Severus had an idea. “If I switch vials with you during the practical,” he whispered, “can you do me a favor, Ave?”

Avery and Macnair looked at him sharply. He was known to be quite a reluctant cheater, mostly because he did not need the help and it only endangered his own performance if he were to be caught.

“What’s gotten into you?” Macnair sounded suspicious, but Avery’s eyes were hungrily taking him in as if he were Jesus himself.

“I am looking for a book. Your father has quite the collection, right?”

“You are. Going. To fail. If you take Ave’s potion,” Macnair explained slowly as if he spoke to an imbecile.

“Which book?” Avery sounded eager. “Which?”

Severus bit his lip. It was a calculated risk. Avery senior was a Death Eater, but it was common for him to share his collection with his son. The request would hardly reach the Dark Lord’s ears. “Magick Moste Evile. Do you need me to write it down for you?”

“What’s so great about that book?” Macnair interrupted, but Avery ignored him completely, too eager to seal the deal and save his potion OWL. “Magick Moste Evile”, he repeated, then he hurried to get out some paper. “You will definitely switch vials with me? Promise?”

“He’s having you on, Ave! Snape would never sabotage his own work.”

“I’ll write your name on my vial,” Severus promised.

***

It was during lunch that he was called into Slughorn’s office. Severus followed the prefect quietly, ignoring the whispers in the background. Lily was watching him from the Gryffindor table, exchanging heated words with Potter. Maybe she thought there had been another altercation between the boys.

Severus made sure to occlude as he entered. Slughorn's office was just as ghastly as he remembered it. Every wall was covered by pictures of former students; some sported autographs, some were cut from newspapers.
The Slytherin sat behind his desk like a big toad, and next to him … stood Minerva.
Her presence weirded Severus out more than the call itself. On his way to the dungeon, he had reconsidered whether he should have put more effort into faking Avery’s signature. However, Slughorn never cared about any of the students’ shenanigans, as long as it didn’t mean more work for him. Why should he now?

“You wished to see me, sir.”

“You are not in trouble,” McGonagall opened the conversation which immediately put him at unease. “Please take a seat, Mr Snape.”

“I prefer to stand.”
From experience, it made fleeing easier.

Her smile became strained. “Horace and I have just been discussing your recent academic performance.”

Severus blinked. So, this was not about his deal with Avery. He had been quite certain that they would get away with it, seeing as that Slughorn had been too busy heaving praise onto Lily’s potion to check Severus’ cauldron. He had simply handed in a mis-labelled vial to the ministry official behind that idiot’s back and evanescoed the rest. It was easy, really. Nobody expected somebody to risk a bad grade at such an important exam.
While it would feel quite embarrassing, less courses next year meant more time for hunting the Dark Lord. And truly, who knew if he would survive this task? Why bother with getting good grades?

McGonagall pointedly looked at Slughorn who seemed most uncomfortable with the topic. “Yes, of course, my boy. You see, we were wondering –“

“You have failed transfiguration, history and potions, Mr Snape. All subjects that you have constantly excelled in during the last five years.” McGonagall paused to look at him over the rim of her glasses, checking his reaction to the cruel reveal of his failures which would only be officially announced in the summer holidays. “We are worried about you.”

“I am fine,” he quickly answered.

“If something has happened, we teachers need to know. I am aware that in the past, you often felt that you were judged more harshly than … others.” She definitely tried hard not to name Potter and Black. “But it is unacceptable to negatively influence somebody’s academic career like that. If there were any recent threats or attacks against you, please tell us.” After a couple of seconds, she picked up the conversation, seemingly disappointed by his silence. “There are options to re-sit the OWLs. The headmaster may allow you a second try. However, we would need to state a reason.”

Dear god. He definitely did not want to do his OWLs a third time. “I am fine,” he repeated. “I was just nervous. That’s why I botched the potion today.”

“See, Minerva,” Slughorn sounded relieved that their intervention was cut short. “The boy is fine. Besides, even without Potions, he still got plenty OWLs.”

“Mr Snape,” the stern teacher overrode Slughorn’s attempt to finish the conversation. “You do understand that you cannot join Potions class in sixth and seventh year, and that you cannot get a NEWT either?”

“I understand.”

“You have worked hard throughout the years, and I am sure you know that transfigurations and potions are important for many jobs. Dropping both subjects may limit your career choices in the future,” she reasoned.

“I’ll be fine.”

Minerva pressed her lips together. He could only guess at what she must be thinking. Either she considered him an idiot for throwing away his chance at a good future over a teenage rivalry, or she believed he planned to join the dark side and was cocky enough to think that he wouldn’t need any career choices besides that.
She slowly shook her head. Apparently, Minerva realised that this conversation went nowhere. “You need to think this over, I am sure. Take the afternoon. You may approach me or Horace any time, Mr Snape, if you want to talk.”

Severus actually felt bad for her. As Head of Gryffindor, it really wasn’t her responsibility to initiate this conversation, yet she had taken the time to smooth-talk Slughorn into this intervention.
Sorry, he thought, but I need to focus on what’s really important.

While he closed the office door behind him, he could hear her berate Slughorn for not saying anything.

***

Outside, he barely evaded a Stupefy. Severus fell back, instinctively grabbing his wand and directing it at the source of the enemy spell. “Expelliarmus!”

His spell was blocked by Potter with ease. “Just a joke between friends,” the boy claimed as the other students in the corridor eyed them nervously.

Severus put his wand away slowly. No spell followed their quick exchange, which made him huff in annoyance, then turn around. However, Potter was following him, always keeping a couple of feet between them. After three sharp turns, Severus finally lost his patience. “WHAT DO YOU WANT?”

“Oi, no shouting in the hallway!” A Hufflepuff prefect took a couple of points off Slytherin, then went his way. Potter meanwhile leaned against the wall next to the portrait of a knight and enjoyed the scene with a smirk.

Oddly, Severus could not keep himself from staring at Potter senior throughout the reprimand. Up close, he noted with a weird feeling in his stomach that there was little resemblance between father and son. While James stood tall and healthy, Harry had been a scrawny thing. This Potter’s face was full of life, his son had looked harrowed and infected by Black’s craziness since his fifth year.
If Severus succeeded … would Harry Potter even come into existence? Sure, James and Lily would probably still procreate aged 19 as if there was no contraception spell. And they might name that baby “Harry”. Would this boy, though, truly be Harry Potter or merely a shadow version of him?
Apparently, he had been ogling Potter for too long. “While I do know I look good, not quite interested, Snape.”

“I want you to stop harassing me,” Severus growled.

“Funny, isn’t it? How we all want different things. For example, I just want to tell you to stay away from Lils. She dislikes your nasty stare even more than I do. If I catch you looking at her like that again, I’ll break your nose. Again.”

Severus was about to tell Potter to screw himself when he realized the potential of this confrontation. “Maybe,” he drawled, “I should turn my eyes to Macdonald. What do you think, Potter?”

“You are disgusting!” The boy raised his wand, but then reconsidered when he saw Filch at the end of the corridor. “If you touch any of the girls, there won’t be enough left of you for your parents to bury!”

The boy stormed away, pushing Severus out of his way, so that the Slytherin hit the wall.
Rubbing his hurting shoulder, Severus closed his eyes. At least the Marauders would now make sure that Macdonald would not walk through Hogwarts’ hallways unprotected again.

That would be quite the bruise tomorrow. Fantastic.

At least, one of his problems was sorted. He almost felt like a responsible adult.

Item 1 on his agenda was in progress. However, he would not sit around twiddling his thumbs and wait for Avery to hopefully deliver Magick Moste Evile to him.
Time to move on to item 2.
As an adult, he had liked to read Muggle literature from the thrift store around the corner in Spinner's End. One quote swam to his mind, taken directly from a book about war tactics. If you know your enemy and know yourself, you need not fear the result of a hundred battles.

It was time to get to know the person behind the Dark Lord.
The first thing Severus needed was a name.

Chapter Text

Despite his decade-long service, Severus knew next to nothing about the Dark Lord. The man shrouded himself in darkness ever since he took the political stage, going so far as to declare even his fake title an unspeakable sin. Severus did understand the motivation behind that: A name tied you to your past, to your family, to that which may make you weak. Severus himself was the best example of that.
Every wizard and witch in the Great Hall had known from the moment that he was called to the Sorting Hat that he was not a pureblood. The magical community was small, and names held power. Snape instantly revealed him powerless.

Everybody assumed that the Dark Lord must be from an ancient line of purebloods, however, he had never claimed any connections. Maybe, Severus thought, there was a weakness to be found that would loosen the hold the Dark Lord had on his pure-blooded followers. Something that would make him … lesser.
If he had a name, he could spend the summer holidays researching the Dark Lord’s past. Visit his birth place, interview people.

Since his return to 1976, Severus had sorted through his memories, carefully using his analytical skills to categorize what he had learned about the Dark Lord over the years of servitude.

During the disaster in the ministry in Potter’s fifth year, Dumbledore had duelled the Dark Lord to keep him too busy to invade Potter’s mind. Afterwards, the headmaster had dissected the memory with Severus, because he wanted his expert opinion on whether Potter had managed to finally occlude or whether some other magic had been at work. For Severus, shielding his mind had always come second nature. It was probably the only thing in which he had surpassed Dumbledore who always felt more comfortable breaking into minds than keeping others out.
He had watched the memory at least five times – it was branded into Severus’ mind. Back then, he had not dared to question the headmaster about his connection to the Dark Lord, because their relationship had always been based on dependency, not trust.
In that memory, Dumbledore had goaded the Dark Lord into focussing on him instead of Potter by calling him “Tom.”

The second clue that Severus had identified when searching his mind for any useful information was the Dark Lord’s tendency to wax poetically about Hogwarts from time to time, praising the ghost-like imprint of the founders’ magic that still ran through these ancient walls. He would mention tiny things like rooms that responded to your needs, or the ceiling of the Great Hall that always reflected the weather outside. These bouts of nostalgia were usually accompanied by orders to kill Dumbledore and take the castle for themselves.
Once Severus had become headmaster, he had welcomed the Dark Lord to the castle for celebration. He still remembered the almost loving touch that the man had bestowed upon the doors of the Great Hall. How he had looked around, taking in everything with a satisfied smile.

There was a good chance the Dark Lord himself had been a student at Hogwarts.

It didn’t seem like much to go on, but to Severus, this forged a path forward.

As a former professor and headmaster, Severus knew two things about the administrative side of running the castle: One, all students enrolled received an invitation beforehand, and second, all records were filed away in the school’s archive.
The ministry required Hogwarts to keep student files for a lifespan, which meant 100 years in terms of wizards, just in case some idiot was stupid enough to lose their NEWT report and needed a copy to apply for a job.

Severus therefore had two choices: He could either try to steal the magical quill that sent out the invitations to students and spell it to reveal all previous Toms, or he could break into the archive.
The first solution was more sophisticated, however, the quill resided in the deputy’s office by default, and he would rather like to lay low when it came to Minerva. He had aroused her suspicions enough as it were. The second solution meant grunt work seeing as that the archive was massive.

Well, there were a lot of unkind things that people could say about Severus, but he definitely didn’t shy away from hard work.
Recently, he behaved like a true Hufflepuff.

On his way to the secret archive entrance near the caretaker’s office, Severus passed the Great Hall and the library. While the fifth- and seventh-years had finished their exams this Friday, the other students were still engrossed in their revision. On one of the desks, Barty Crouch jr. and Regulus Black were putting their heads together. It was odd to see all these Death Eaters in the making behave like children. Because that’s what they were. Children.
Did it make him vindictive that he resented them for crimes they had not yet committed?
It was scary to suddenly identify with Dumbledore who had treated Severus like a criminal from the get-go, driving him towards the dark side even more. Severus simply did not have the time to turn these children on a different path. They were … not essential to his plan.
Walking past the library, past Crouch, past Regulus Black, it felt like condemning them to death.

***

Severus cursed his bad luck when he ran into Mulciber of all people in front of the Ravenclaw’s dorm entrance.

“You looking for me?” Mulciber asked with his hands in his pockets. He seemed frustrated.

“Just detention with Filch.” The lie rolled off Severus’ tongue easily. It was not like there were a lot of things he could claim to be doing, having already passed the library. To anyone but the teachers, the corridor was a dead-end marked by Filch’s office and an ugly portrait of Melvil Dewey, the inventor of the Dewey archiving system.

“Don’t tell me you got into another fight with those Gryffindors?”

“Just the usual.”

“Fucking hell, Snape. If we lose the house cup because of you…” Mulciber ruffled through his blond hair. “I hope you got Potter good. The blood traitor hexed my bag to bite me.”

Severus had an inkling what might have driven Potter to send Mulciber running for the hills. He silently congratulated himself on a plan gone well. “Maybe you should stay away from the Gryffindors for a while,” he suggested.

Mulciber pressed his lips together. “Whatever.”

With a huff, the Slytherin boy turned towards the stairs. Severus squared his shoulders and passed the loitering Ravenclaws who eyed him suspiciously, but then ignored him when he went past their dorm entrance towards Filch’s office.

The portrait was empty. Dewey probably was out having tea with the fat lady or whatever painted people did in their free time. Making sure that nobody was looking at him, Severus got his wand out and put the tip on the only book on the drawn shelves that was not sorted correctly based on Dewey’s system, then he slowly moved it towards the position it really belonged to. It was a neat puzzle.

As soon as the painted book slid into the proper space, the library door which had been drawn closed, opened. Severus threw a glance backwards, then he touched the door with his wand. Instantly, he was sucked through the wall.

***

“Lumos.”
The small light barely gave him a glimpse of the hundreds of rows that filled the archive. The air was full of dust, making Severus cough and sneeze. Slowly, he walked up and down the aisles, looking for the shelves with the class lists rather than the individual files.

“Oh for god’s sake!” A couple of mice fled from his steps and the wand’s light.
Then he found what he was looking for. This shelf contained the class lists of each school year, dating back to the eighteenth century.

He would work backwards, uncertain of how old the Dark Lord might be, seeing as that he had made himself immortal.
One set of records after another he pulled from the shelves, leafed through and noted down any children’s full names that seemed interesting. Some, he could rule out based on simply knowing what had become of them. For example, he could definitely ignore landlord-Tom of the Leaky Cauldron.

When his stomach began to complain about missing dinner, he had worked his way until the early 1930s, thanking Grindelwald of all people that the name Tom barely made an appearance in the early 20th century because French names were on the rise among the purebloods to honor said wizard's political ascent in Paris.
Must have been quite awkward, Severus mused, to be stuck with a child named Gellert ten years after the guy lost to Dumbledore.

“What are you doing here?”
Severus instantly fell into fight mode, swirling around and throwing a hex towards the source of the voice. Only in the last second did he deliberately miss after a speck of red entered his view. Lily’s eyes were wide with shock, having noticed the close call. Severus’ fear turned into overwhelming anger. That idiot didn’t even have her wand out!

“The fuck, Lily! Do you want me to kill you?”

She was half-hidden by Potter’s invisibility cloak and in her hand she held … he knew that map. She had fucking traced him!
“Give that to me!” He grabbed the Marauder’s map from her hands with enough violence to make her cry out.

“Hey! That’s mine!”

“Just like that cloak, sure!”

She glared at him. “Don’t lecture me on theft. What are you doing here?”

“How did you get in?” he asked instead of answering.

“I asked the map.”

That was one feature he hadn’t known about. Damn. “Oh, take that off. You look as if somebody had sawed you in half.”

Lily reluctantly put the invisibility cloak over her arm, glancing at Severus’ temporary workplace. Papers with references to Toms and their year of entrance to Hogwarts were strawn around, class lists haphazardly put back on the shelf so that they were sticking out.
“Who’s Tom?”

It was probably too late to claim he was trying to manipulate his own record to fix his failed Potions exam, right?
“Nobody you need to concern yourself with. Leave, Lily. You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Pot, kettle, Sev!” She grabbed some of his notes and he fought the urge to stop her with force. “You weren’t at dinner and James said he and you had some words in front of Professor Slughorn’s office. I was worried.” She exhaled slowly. “Are you in trouble?”

He kept silent. Her judgemental stare made him uncomfortable. Then she visibly deflated. “So … what are we looking for?”

“… Tom, Thomas, or something like that, first or last name.”

“From when to when?”

He reluctantly replied, “Starting with about Dumbledore’s time, so 1891 to 1935. That’s where I am right now.”

She nodded. “I’ll take 1891 to 1910.”

***

Severus and Lily only exchanged functional information like new names to be added to the list. She apparently had decided that she would stick around to figure him out if he was unwilling to talk. Severus, though, could use the help. And the time to come up with an excuse, to be honest.

The magical clock that Lily had spelled into existence showed that it was almost curfew when both of them finished their batch of class lists.
35 names.

“What now?” she demanded to know. Lily had rolled up the sleeves of her uniform.

“I need to look at their student records. That will narrow it down.”

One after another, Lily brought the records to Severus who sat on the floor and studied them with a strained expression on his face.

“You’ll need glasses if you go on like this,” she quipped.

“No, I won’t.”

“So, is Tom going to die once you find him?” she asked with an extremely casual undertone that betrayed the joke to be not quite that.

“I just want to get in contact with him. He … knows some magic that I am interested in.” Close enough to the truth.

The girl accepted his answer with a frown, but put the next record in front of him. “Any luck?”

“I’ll tell you when I find something.”

“Sure.” They both knew he wouldn’t.

***

It was a file from 1938 that Severus felt particularly drawn to. He of course had a look at everything Lily brought him but … that was the file he could not close.
Tom Riddle.
It just fit.
He could sense the darkness that hid in those records. An orphaned half-blood of a muggle and a pureblood. Tom Riddle only lived off the school fund, having no resources to call his own. A diligent student who scored highly in all subjects, very skilled at using magic.
It was … scary how much of himself Severus could see in that record. This was someone who wanted to go places. Who came from nothing.
The other files just did not ring true. Happy homes just do not breed the resentment you need to turn your own pain against others. Severus knew from experience.
There was one more thing that alerted him about Tom Riddle. Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore was listed as his appointed guardian in all magical matters.

Born: 31 December, 1926
Residence: Wool’s orphanage, London
Mother: Merope Gaunt
Father: Tom Riddle sr.

Was this what Dumbledore had seen in him? In his second-hand clothes, the urge to prove himself, his denial of his Muggle father? A mini-Tom Riddle?
But you were wrong, Dumbledore. I was never a leader, only a follower.

“Look up Merope Gaunt,” he told Lily, barely suppressing the urgency he felt.

“Which year?”

“Just…” Severus raised his wand impatiently. “Accio Merope Gaunt’s file!”

Nothing.
Frustrated he studied Riddle's file some more, which made Lily lean in curiously.

“A half-blood?” She sounded upset.

Wool’s orphanage, London.
Seems like he would need to organise a trip to London during the summer holidays.

“Severus, why are you looking up half-bloods?”

“Oh, you seem to already have an opinion on what I am doing. Why don’t you ask me directly.”
He was annoyed at her constant suspicion.

“Did the other Slytherins ask you to do this? Are they … looking for him?”
She seemed crest-fallen.

“This is personal research. This doesn’t concern you, Lily.”

She seemed torn between reporting him and just running off. He would make the decision a bit easier for her. “If you want that map back, and I think you do, you keep your mouth shut.”

Chapter Text

Lily had not reacted kindly to the harsh treatment and borderline blackmailing. After a spiteful exchange, the girl had grabbed Potter’s map and stormed off.

Her insults, while not quite original, especially the parts about acting like a Death Eater and being a coward for not standing up to his fellow Slytherins, left Severus mentally exhausted and emotionally drained.

Working with Lily had reminded him of the old times, of shared afternoons in the library when they would show each other interesting passages in the text books and test out spells on each other for fun. They had fallen back into that harmonious working relationship with such ease that for a moment, he had felt like he was truly 16 again.
It had been wrong to involve her in his stupid search. His mission was too dangerous for Lily, lest he wanted to once again lead her to her death. Severus was done with getting people killed. Hunting the Dark Lord was one burden he would shoulder all by myself.

Driving Lily away had been necessary.

***

After cleaning up their mess in the archive, he slipped out of the hidden room. It was quite past the curfew, so no Ravenclaws occupied the hallway.
Careful to avoid the prefects on their rounds, Severus made his way downstairs towards the Dungeons. Once he reached ground level, he had to walk through the courtyard to enter the main hall. However, he stopped in his tracks as some hushed voices reaches his ears.

Why, pray god, did so many people wander around the castle in the dead of night? What were the teachers doing? With an eye-roll, he continued towards the hall, when one word made him freeze.

“… Mary … “

Damn. Severus turned towards the pitch-black courtyard. He could not see a thing, but the voices kept up their conversation. The tone was almost … desperate.

“Renervate!” Now that he paid attention, this definitely sounded like Macdonald.

Potter really was useless.

Angrily, Severus left the path and with a quick Lumos as to not break his neck by accident, he walked towards the voices.
The closer he got, the clearer the words became. A female was sobbing heart-breakingly, while Macdonald was shushing the child and casting Renervates all over the place. Under a big oak, two shapes cowered on the ground.

His wand light startled the two into looking up.

Macdonald was cradling a bloody mess in her lap while a small first-year had her head against the other girl’s shoulder. Tears stained the child’s face and she seemed out of her mind with grief. Macdonald’s was only a tad more composed, as she pressed her wand against the … creature.

“Stay away, Snape!” Macdonald yelled, pointing her wand now in his direction. She could barely keep it straight as she was shaking like Severus’ father when he hadn’t had a beer for a day.

“Mary!” The girl sobbed even harder, petting the thing as if to guide it back to life. Then she looked at him. “Please, can you help? Please!”

“What happened?” Severus came closer, completely ignoring Macdonald’s wand.

Her voice trembled. “Her cat.” Macdonald’s clothes were an utter mess, as blood had spilled all over her. She closed her eyes to collect herself with the strength of a true Gryffindor. “Renervate! Just work! Renervate!”
The short bout of red sparks vanished without an effect.

“Don’t die! Don’t die!” The child’s body bent in pain and anxiety. “Not you, too!”

Severus got down near the girls, taking in the bloodbath in front of him. The cat’s neck had been half-severed by a clumsily-cast Sectumsempra, leaving the thing between life and death. One leg was missing, with the bone sticking out in an unsightly way. In his wand light, the thing blinked in pain and let out a mewl.

“I don’t know any healing spells,” Macdonald babbled. Her eyes were blown wide in panic, and she was sending out one thought. Help.

Severus exhaled slowly, letting his eyes wander from Macdonald to the small first-year. There was blood in Macdonald’s blond locks which must have transferred there from her hands.

Someone very frustrated and very dangerous had gotten to that animal.
And there were only a handful of people who knew his spell.

Carefully, he touched the bloody mess, apologizing for his part in its demise.
“Is she yours?” he asked Macdonald.

“No.” The girl barely kept her own tears at bay. “I was …. there was an owl. I was told to come here. I found it like that.”

Quite the courtship present.

The thing mewled once again in agony which sent the first-year into another bout of tears.
Severus steeled himself, before turning his wand towards the cat. Then he deliberately made eye contact with Macdonald.

Turn her head away. Cover her eyes and ears.

The girl startled when he imprinted his thought on her using legilimency. It took her a second, then Macdonald complied. With trembling hands, she pressed the girl’s face against her shoulder, locking her in that position. Her arms covered the first-year’s ears, too.

“Snape, thank you. Thank you for try-“

“Avada Kedavra.”

The green light reflected in Macdonald’s brown eyes, turning them an ugly olive.

The girl seemed shell-shocked, staring at Severus as if he were the Dark Lord personified. Her hold on the first-year slipped who turned around and took in the state of her former pet. “NOOO!”

We could have saved her. We could have gotten a teacher and saved her. Macdonald’s grief-stricken thoughts swam at the forefront of her mind, almost begging to be read. Gryffindors always carried their emotions on their sleeves. He’s a monster just like the other Slytherins. I should have driven him away. Stupid! Stupid! This is my fault. My fault!

Severus pressed his lips together angrily. There was no saving her and you know that. You’re not a child anymore.

Macdonald’s eyes grew wide at his response to her thoughts. “How–“

He cut her off with a swish of the wand, silently accioing the dead cat into his hands. “We need to get the girl to Pomfrey.”

***

Pomfrey had taken one look at Macdonald’s blood-stained uniform, the mangled cat in Severus’ arms and the distraught first-year in their midst who they were keeping upright with shared effort, before rushing them inside the ward.
The girl had instantly succumbed to the Calming Draught, and once the mediwitch had made sure that there were no injuries on any of them – Severus refused to let her touch him which earned him an upset glare – she fire-called their Head of Houses and Dumbledore.
Minerva had barely managed to throw over a cloak, seeing as that her pyjamas were visible underneath. Slughorn, too, yawned every three seconds and wore a baby-blue night-gown. Only Dumbledore seemed to have still been up, being properly dressed and the first to arrive with a stormy facial expression.

Severus crouched on the first-year’s bed, feeling quite apathetic to the situation. The Calming Draught that Pomfrey had forced him to drink left him dead-tired on his feet.

He just didn’t see any use in talking about the incident anymore. Gone was gone.
The teachers, though, insisted on hearing Macdonald’s story, and Severus was not allowed to leave. His request had been met with suspicion, so he stayed rooted to his position on the first-year’s bed.

Macdonald was wringing her hands while skirting around the truth:
Something a bit embarrassing had happened to her a couple of weeks ago. Since then, she received unkind letters. Nothing the teachers could do anything about, really. Just stuff between teenagers. Tonight though, the letter had told her to go to the courtyard to meet the author.
No, she didn’t really know who was behind these letters.
Well, she wanted to settle things, so she snuck out after curfew.
There, she found the cat. Her own cries of help attracted the poor first-year who had broken curfew to look for her cat. The pet had been missing since the afternoon when it hadn't returned for feeding time.

“Then Snape found us,” Macdonald said, throwing a glance at Severus that spoke of pure anguish.

Dumbledore hummed. He briefly glanced towards Severus, narrowing his eyes in thought, but then his attention was once again directed at the girl. “You have been very brave, Miss Macdonald, recounting this unpleasant memory. I presume you then asked Mr Snape to help carry young Miss Leander upstairs?”

For a micro-second, Severus considered imprinting a threat on Macdonald. You keep silent about the curse, I keep silent about what Mulciber did to you .

However, he just … was too mentally tired to care what would happen to him.

Severus had used the killing curse fully aware what the consequences might be. He wasn’t stupid.
Just like when Potter had sliced open Draco Malfoy in that bathroom, once Severus had taken in the cat’s state … he had been overwhelmed by guilt. This was the most savage of his creations, and also the most … personal. Sectumsempra had been born from his deepest wish to inflict as much pain on the people around him as they inflicted on him.
It was pure violence, pure hatred given an outlet.
Seeing Sectumsempra being used to torture innocent people like Macdonald was devastating. And he himself had unleashed this …. evil onto the world.

In a way, Severus was relieved he would finally be punished for sharing this spell with the Death Eaters. He had known what they would use it for. And he had willingly given it to them, because he had wanted the world to pay.
So, Severus remained quiet and let Macdonald finish her story.

“Well, that’s all, actually. You see, professor. The cat died in my lap, and Lisa wouldn’t stop crying. Snape and I then decided we would bring her here,” Macdonald concluded her statement.

Severus closed his eyes. Apparently, it wasn’t quite the day he would be expelled from school.

“A rather upsetting night for you three,” Dumbledore said. “Although you broke curfew, I believe you have already been punished enough. Do you agree, Minerva, Horace?”

“Of course,” Slughorn readily replied, always shirking work.
Minerva, however, seemed not quite happy with the headmaster’s suggestion. “What about Mr Snape’s reason for being out of bed?”

“Students always have reasons for breaking rules. I doubt his is worse than Miss Leander’s or Miss Macdonald's.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. To be defended by Dumbledore of all people …

McGonagall ignored the headmaster, though. “I am just saying that he did not give any statement yet.” She looked at him with suspicion. “Were you out with some other Slytherins, perhaps?”

“Enough, Minerva! These are baseless accusations,” Slughorn cried, for once acting as a Head of House. “There is no proof that this poor cat was mangled by one of mine."

“Quite based, considering poor Miss Leander is a muggleborn,” Minerva replied. “Mr Snape?”

“I was walking,” he lied. “Then I heard the girls. That’s all.”

“After curfew?”

Severus growled. “Are you accusing me?”

Dumbledore interrupted her interrogation and opted for a more neutral line of questioning, “What Minerva and all of us, I assure you, want to know is who could do something so ruthless to a defenceless creature. You are the only witnesses, that is why we take your statements very seriously. Now, Miss Macdonald, Mister Snape. Do you have any idea who could be behind this?”

Macdonald bit her lips. “No.”

Dumbledore held eye contact with her. Slowly, the headmaster turned towards him. Some… unidentifiable emotion hid behind Dumbledore’s calculating stare. Had he read her mind? “Any educated guess, Mr Snape?”

“No, sir.”

Always your first reaction, isn’t it? Lying to adults, his mind mused. You are not quite that different from Harry bloody Potter.

Dumbledore apparently was not done with him. “You were out past curfew to get some exercise, you accidentally stumbled across Miss Macdonald and Miss Leander, and you have no idea who would wish to harm either of them? Is there anything you would like to add to this testimony?”

“No, Sir.”

As usual, he would take care of things on his own.

***

Being walked back to his dorm by Slughorn and Dumbledore was awkward. Both wizards exchanged some theories about the dark spells that were used against the cat. It felt like they were baiting him to admit to knowing the spell.

Macdonald had bent the truth to keep his Unforgivable Curse a secret from the teachers. He supposed she saw it as payback, seeing as that he had spared the cat more agony. Severus had to begrudgingly respect the Gryffindor girl for her courage. Lying in front of three professors in such an emotionally compromised state could not have been easy for a girl who wore her heart on her sleeves.

Then Severus realised that Macdonald was used to keeping secrets.

He owed her. Not just for the lie but … for the mental anguish that Sectumsempra had caused her.
He would deal with Mulciber once and for all.

***

***

“This is me,” Severus said as he gave the portrait the password to the Slytherin dorm. Slughorn and Dumbledore stood close behind him as if to ascertain that he would not go on another nightly adventure.

“I expect you in my office first thing after breakfast,” Slughorn declared. “We need to discuss your recent conduct.”

Wow. Slughorn really did not want Dumbledore to realise what a lazy Head of House he was. Calling Severus out for rule-breaking? What a novelty.

“Sure, professor.”

He was about to disappear into the dorm when Dumbledore stopped him. “One last thing, Mr Snape.”

He turned around, leg already inside. Severus could feel how his muscles were ready to spring into action. Something about Dumbledore always gave him the creeps. From all people in the past, he was the one Severus feared most. Well, after the Dark Lord himself. Dumbledore was incredibly intelligent, and he could also be incredibly ruthless.
“Yes, sir?”

Dumbledore threw a glance at Slughorn, gifting him with a smile that did not reach his eyes. “Horace, I’ll be in your office in a moment. Why don’t you pick out one of your elf-made wines? We deserve a night cap, I daresay.”

Slughorn’s face lifted in joy, huddling away as fast as his legs could carry his massive body.

Severus grabbed the portrait’s frame, knowing that it would not be appropriate to go for his wand.
“Wouldn’t it be better to have this discussion in your office, Sir?” After all, Severus had a reasonable guess what this may be about. The man had stared into Macdonald’s eyes long enough to know about Severus’ activities that night.

“No,” the professor said slowly. “That won’t yet be necessary, Mr Snape. However, consider this to be a reminder to not stray too much from the rules.”

Yeah, Severus was past the point of being lectured by adults. “Sure.”

Dumbledore’s eyes zoomed in on him and his voice turned cold. “While I always encourage students to further their studies, there are some mysteries … some riddles that should not be pursued. Good night, Mr Snape.”

Severus stared at the empty space that Dumbledore left behind as the headmaster made his way to Slughorn’s office.

Fucking hell, Lily!

Chapter Text

Breakfast was a tedious affair. There were far too many children loitering around for Severus’ liking – the disadvantage of being stuck at school. He’d give his right hand to talk to some adults right about now. Avery, Mcnair and Mulciber did not make for great conversation, especially since their main concern was to dissect other students’ behaviour to identify who was Muggle-born.

“Look at what she’s reading,” Mulciber argued. “The pictures aren’t moving.”

“Why even print a picture if you can’t see what’s happening?” Avery pushed his toast around. He always had been a picky eater, Severus remembered. Can’t have been easy in Azkaban. “Muggles are so stupid!”

Severus took a sip of his coffee, mentally pondering how to proceed. The summer holidays were ideal for visiting Wool’s Orphanage; however, the trace would prevent him from apparating. The train fare from Cokeworth to London was staggering, though, and buying food and finding shelter would be difficult, too.
What would await him in Cokeworth, anyway? He honestly couldn’t remember whether his father was currently employed or not. Tobias Snape would repeat the circle of getting hired and fired until he would drunkenly walk into traffic in about three years. Good riddance.
Money was an issue. Had always been an issue in Severus’ life.
He really wasn’t looking forward to becoming a pick-pocket. Maybe he could propose to Slughorn that he would help re-stock the infirmary in preparation for the next school year against some coins. If the man would even let him back into the lab after whatever disastrous concoction Avery had handed in in Severus’ name.

“By the way,” he cut through Mulciber’s and Avery’s debate on Muggle technology. “Have you heard back from your father yet, Ave?”

The boy looked at Severus stupidly, then his mouth opened to a wide Oh. “The book, right! Yeah. Actually, Father doesn’t want to send it to Hogwarts. Dumbledore might take it away, and it’s really rare. Like, really. If you come over during the holidays, you can have it. Just return it before school starts again, okay?”

Severus grimaced. “How am I supposed to get to your place, Ave?”

“Use the floo?”

“We don’t have a fireplace,” Severus said slowly, so that even a moron would understand the implication. “Can we meet up in Knockturn Alley, instead?”
He had to go to London anyway.

Avery shrugged. “Gotta check my parents’ calendar first before we set a date. I guess your father still hates owls? Should I send Flavius to Evans’ address like last year?”

“Unless you want him poisoned.”

Mulciber stole Severus’ toast from his plate. “I still think you are barking mad for failing potions in exchange for a spell-theory book.”

Suddenly, Mulciber broke out into a broad grin. Severus followed the boy’s gaze – it landed on Macdonald who was walking into the Great Hall.

Breakfast was almost over, so Severus supposed she had skipped the meal and the scrutiny of her fellow Gryffindors deliberately. Pomfrey had also been intelligent enough not to expose that first-year to the masses yet.
Macdonald did seem more composed than yesterday. Her eyes were a tad red, but other than that, she seemed calm and focused. Her uniform, though, still showed a couple of red specks of animal blood where she hadn’t cast the Evanesco thoroughly enough.
Well, the fabric might actually just tear if you were to force the stains out. Even Madam Malkin’s quality robes were not designed for dropping half a galleon of animal blood on them.

“Look what the cat dragged in.” Mulciber’s whispered words made Severus grind his teeth.

Macdonald held her head high as she scanned the Slytherin table. She took in Severus who sat next to Mulciber, then her gaze hardened. With bobbing locks, she walked … towards them?

“Oh, this will be good.” Mulciber chuckled, swinging his legs around to face the girl.

“Dumbledore’s watching!” Avery’s squeaky voice barely cut through Severus’ pounding ears.

This would be ugly. Shit. What should he do?
Don’t be stupid, he sent into Macdonald’s direction. You are only hurting yourself by giving him your attention.

The girl, though, did not even falter in her steps. She came to a stop in front of Mulciber and Severus, looking down on them from above.

“Hey, Mary. How’s it going?” Mulciber asked in a sweet voice.

The girl did not even turn her head. Instead, she stared at Severus in a frighteningly intense way. It weirded him out. Then she addressed him directly, “Severus. Do you want to go to Hogsmeade with me today?”

What the hell?

Severus blinked, and he could tell from the chattering stopping around them that they had become the centre of the table’s attention.

Not particularly was probably not the kindest answer, right? “Argh,” was the only thing that left his mouth, as if he were a bloody teenager.

Mulciber gave a strangled noise, definitely not understanding what was happening.

“On a date,” Macdonald added unnecessarily.

There was furious whispering around them. The odd Mudblood and big nose, big dick jokes were thrown around by the Slytherins.

“I…” Severus felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car.

Even the neighbouring Ravenclaw table seemed to realise that something was up.

Nervously, Severus re-directed his gaze towards Macdonald who still stared at him in this weird, desperate way. Then he finally caught the words she apparently had been sending out to him from the very beginning.

We have to talk. Play along if you don’t want Dumbledore to find out about the killing curse.

Blackmailed by a Gryffindor. Wow. His opinion of her instantly rose. Severus schooled his face into a neutral expression. “It would be my pleasure.”

Macdonald’s lips turned into a huge, definitely fake grin. “Sounds lovely. Where we met yesterday, okay?”

“Sure.”
Very romantic to suggest a crime scene.

His thought made Macdonald break out into a real grin that spoke of relief. “See you then.” She lent down to fake a kiss to his cheek, careful not to touch him as her locks hid that very fact even from Mulciber, who was sitting next to him.

Then she straightened up, turned her back to them, completely ignoring Mulciber’s outraged face, and walked to her seat at the Gryffindor table.
A storm erupted next to him when the Slytherins furiously started to joke at his expense, but Severus only had eyes for Macdonald who was facing just as much of an interrogation at the Gryffindor table.

***

Soon after, Severus fled towards Slughorn’s office because he felt too hounded by the Slytherins around him. Mulciber, especially, resembled an aubergine, the way jealousy and fury had darkened his face. He did not deal well with being spited by a Mudblood with a Mudblood.

Potter, too, had barely resisted raising his fist against Severus near the exit. Only Lily’s hand on his arm had held him back. His childhood friend had seemed just as lost as apparently all of Hogwarts.

Without bothering to knock, Severus entered and crossed the room. Slughorn sat at his desk and he was deeply engrossed in the Daily Prophet. His mood seemed pensive, probably dampened by the Muggle killings reported in the newspaper. During breakfast, Avery had boasted that his father had been involved in that one.

“You wanted to speak to me, Sir.”

“Yes, indeed.” The potions master pointed at the chair in front of his desk. Reluctantly, Severus sat down.

“I really have no further information about yesterday’s attack,” he stated.

Slughorn nodded absent-mindedly. “An unfortunate event, yes.” He wrung his hands as if he were struggling with something. “Mr Snape. I have been … advised by … a dear colleague … that I might inquire once more about your plans for the future.”

Yeah. Minerva really was a meddlesome cat, wasn’t she? Severus sighed. Even without scanning Slughorn’s usually not-quite guarded mind, he knew that the man couldn’t care less about his career options. This was something that had been put on his to-do list.
“I love potions,” Severus admitted, “but I want to focus on other subjects. No offense, Sir, but, that’s not really any of your business, anyway.”

“I see.”
Slughorn finally looked at him. For the first time, maybe, since Severus had walked into the Great Hall in second-hand robes and had been deemed unworthy of the man’s attention.
“To be perfectly honest, Mr Snape, I do not care for your recent attitude.”

Neither did Severus care for Slughorn’s laziness, but, alas, in every life a little rain must fall. “As I said, no offense meant.”

“Curious, Mr Snape. I think you meant the offense. In fact, I think you relish in the fact that you can talk back to me with that poor excuse.”
Slughorn’s voice became colder. “Your uncontrolled, childish outbursts of anger and all that petty squabbling with students from other houses always irritated me to the point that I would rather not bestow you any more attention which you seemed to crave. However, I prefer that to this new version of yourself. The one that always calculates his words very carefully.”
The man narrowed his eyes. “You think you are smarter than us, right? You wander around as if this castle belongs to you and break curfew each night. You might use pretty words, but you show no respect towards the teachers. You manage us, you choose your words to get us to let you do whatever you want. Why so surprised, Mr Snape? I am a Slytherin, after all. I recognise my own.” Slughorn shook his head, almost disappointedly. “What I cannot figure out is what is going on with you. Why you would sabotage your OWLs. Do you think yourself above what this institution can offer?”
Slughorn opened a drawer of his desk and put a potions vial on it. “What really irritates me is that you take me for enough of a fool not to notice that suddenly you fail potions and Mr Avery passes with flying colours. I did decipher your chicken-scrawl for five years, Mr Snape. And I know your work.”

Severus kept silent. Feeling uncomfortable, he focussed on the picture frames behind Slughorn. The man was fishing for a reaction.

“The funny thing is, Mr Snape. My colleagues seem to think this might be a cry for help. I don’t think so. I think you know exactly what you are doing.”

The only thing you could hear in the room for several minutes was the clock on the wall.

Finally, Severus asked with a carefully balanced touch of desperation, “Are you going to fail Avery, too?”
Severus put every memory of Avery senior in front of his Occlumency shield, showing him in his brightest colours in a ministry office. The man would need an assistant. Having connections always helped. If the son owed him, the father would owe him, too. It’s not like anybody would hire him, no matter how good his OWLs would be. Severus even put the memory of the rejected application to St. Mungo’s in there, slightly changing it from the potioneer position to trainee.

Slughorn, while being much more perceptive than Severus had ever given him credit for, stood no chance against his natural talent for mind manipulation.

Almost innocently, Severus looked directly into Slughorn’s eyes, baiting him to take a look at his web of lies, “You mustn’t fail Avery, please.”

Severus could feel the man take a peek, then withdraw. Slughorn’s anger receded from his face. “There would be no use upsetting Mr Avery, I suppose. Avery senior, I mean, of course. He was one of mine, you know?” Slughorn boasted. “He is now Head of the Department of Mysteries. A very respectful position.”

“Really?” Severus asked, pretending to be interested. “So, if I needed a recommendation in two years…”

Slughorn hummed. He was definitely not interested in wasting any effort on Severus’ behalf. Which suited Severus just fine. He was already busy enough without having to write a fake application to the ministry to keep up the charade.

“We will see. I expect you to be on your best behaviour from now on. As someone who knows a lot of important people and made people important, let me give you one advice. Even good connections cannot compensate a lack in qualifications.”

***

Severus was fuming when he left Slughorn’s office. Being lectured by this coward! This opportunist!
Slughorn’s cold attitude had not made his plans any easier, either. There was no way Severus would go grovel before that whale and ask for coins in exchange for his brewing services!

While he was angrily stomping back to the dorm, he could hear the whispers about him and Macdonald wherever he turned.
Beauty and the Beast.
Imperius.
Amortentia.
Mud and Mud still produces Mud.

***

Despite what many of his students may have thought, Severus had been on a couple of dates in his life. They just never went anywhere, seeing as that either he got tired of the woman’s boring recount of her life’s woes or he disappointed his date by not suddenly transforming into Prince Charming once they were alone.
He wasn’t nervous of the prospect of being on a date. He just didn’t like to be the butt of everyone’s joke for no reason at all.

Macdonald had definitely made an effort, going by the make-up. She greeted him like an old friend in the courtyard, and they quickly made their way to the castle doors like the other couples who intended to enjoy the last Hogsmeade weekend of the school year. Severus took mild pleasure in Minerva’s raised eyebrows as they passed the teacher.

“Where to,?" Macdonald asked quietly.

“The Hog’s Head.”

Mary blinked at his sarcastic suggestion, but then smirked. “Madame Puddifoot’s it is.”

Behind them, Severus spotted a large black dog which was following them. Dear god, if Macdonald got him mauled before Nagini took her bite, he would haunt her for all eternity.

***

***

“So, what do you want?” he asked after they had been served their coffees. He slightly twirled his wand, putting a Muffliato over their table. Some of the couples present were openly gawking at them.

“What was that?” Macdonald sounded alarmed.

“They won’t understand our words now.”

“Did you cast that silently?” She barely kept the awe out of her voice. “Lily always praised your skills. I thought she was just blinded by her feelings for you, though.”

“Hardly,” Severus commented. “There was never anything between me and Lily.”

Macdonald nodded hesitantly, then she blew some of the pink confetti from the table. “Lisa was taken home to her aunt this morning, you know.”

Severus drew a blank.

“Leander,” Macdonald explained, definitely put out that he could not remember the first-year’s name. “The cat had been an early birthday present. Then, her parents were killed by Death Eaters last month. It was cruel, really. She’s Muggle-born. Her parents had no chance against those wizards.”

Severus did not have to guess what had made those muggles a target. His stomach churned as he recalled the way Mulciber and Avery had dissected the behaviour of the students in the Great Hall to guess their heritage. “At least she has somewhere to go,” he said.

Macdonald’s head went up in typical Gryffindor outrage. “You know, your thoughts are kinder than your words. You could at least pretend to be sorry for her.”

Were they? Severus blinked surprised. “When was I nice to you?”

Macdonald bit her lip. “Why? Do you want to apologize for having not been horrible for once?

Severus took a sip from his coffee. “What do you want, Macdonald?” He sighed. “Just spit it out and we can be done with this farce.”

She teared up somewhat, which alarmed Severus. He didn’t know how to deal with crying girls. As Head of House, he had sent all homesick and menstruating girls straight to Minerva. She knew how to coddle people. He was more the … threaten-rule-breakers-with-death type of guy.

Macdonald got her emotions under control, before she asked quietly, “How do you do it?”

“I do a lot of things,” Severus drawled. “You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Mary curled one of her locks nervously between the fingers. “The mind thing.”

God, Severus almost wished it was Harry bloody Potter who was in front of him. The boy had asked inane questions about Occlumency, but this was worse.
“The mind thing is called Legilimency. It is practiced by many formidable wizards and witches, and an exceptionally difficult branch of magic.”

“So,” she looked at him challengingly, “how do you do the mind thing?”

Severus was about to cut her down verbally, when he caught her inner amusement. “Do you not even try to conceal your emotions?” he groaned.

Her face lit up slightly, but there was an underlying sadness in her mind. It raised Severus’ hackles and made him deeply uncomfortable. This was the sort of thing that tempted a Legilimens to disrespect other people’s privacy.

“Humor me, Snape. I’ve got your fate in my hand. What am I thinking about right now?”

“I do not read minds.” She irritated him. “The mind is not a book that you can just leaf through, going back or forward. I can, however,” he stressed, “catch stray thoughts and evaluate them. I can also imprint my own thoughts on others like I did yesterday. That usually helps to prompt new material in the other person's mind that I can then again get a hold of. Legilimency is not, though, like reading a book.”

“So, what am I thinking?” she repeated obnoxiously.

He looked at Macdonald. It was rare to be given an invitation, and those eyes certainly held his gaze.
There was fear, but not of him. She feared what he might unearth about her own feelings. Yet, like the fool-hardy Gryffindor she was, Macdonald dared him to use Legilimency.
“Your father,” he whispered. “You love him very much, so much that your love for him is killing you. You miss him. You want him back, but… you also want him gone.”
He closed the connection, blinking a couple of times. He felt unbalanced; it always happened when he experienced something that his own mind could not process –like a child’s love for one’s father.

“My father is in a coma,” Macdonald revealed. The underlying sadness now rose to the forefront, smothering the air between them. “He got hurt during Quidditch. Stupid, really? People like Lisa’s parents get killed by Death Eaters and my dad thinks the most important thing in these times is to fall off a broom.”

“I am sorry,” Severus said, for once meaning it.

“He has been asleep for three months now. Mom’s given up. I need to know, though. I need to know if he’s still in there.”

What she really wanted was to say good-bye. But Severus did not comment. It was not his place.
He exhaled slowly. “In exchange for your silence, I presume?”

There was an unshed tear in Macdonald’s eyes. “Can you do it? With Legilimency?”

Well, he certainly could try.

***

“You know,” Severus said quietly while they were walking back to the castle. “There was no reason to embarrass both of us in front of the whole castle. You could have just dragged me into an empty classroom and asked me directly.”

Macdonald made a point to grab his hand which he allowed, although he felt awkward. Everyone they met along the way was gawking at them.
“I figured it would make it easier to explain why people might see us together at St. Mungo’s. Besides,” she added while looking ahead, “There’s someone who is interested in me. I thought it wouldn’t hurt to try if this gets rid of him.”

Geez, thanks. Severus was really liking the idea of being used as a human shield. However, he kept quiet. He somehow felt that letting Macdonald know that he knew about Mulciber would not go over well.

“Can you get your mom to take us to St. Mungo’s next Friday?” he asked, carefully planning his busy holiday schedule. Accompanying her to the hospital would get him a free ride across London. He didn't have an address for Wool's Orphanage, but the public library would be in walking distance to fix that. Riddle’s father had been a Muggle, so it was also worth looking him up.

“Next Friday?” Macdonald asked confused. “Why so soon?”

“I won’t be home part of the holidays. Best to get it over with quickly. So?”

Macdonald seemed a bit reluctant. “She doesn’t really fetch me from King’s Cross, you know. She’s a Muggle. I usually go home by train on my own.”

His brain worked out the maths, and boy, did he like what he was hearing. “So, you got Muggle money, then? We could make the journey ourselves?”

Chapter Text

“I always thought you were secretly plotting world domination and looking up hexes to sacrifice virgins to the demon lord,” Mary confided in him while half-heartedly leafing through a massive encyclopaedia on common garden herbs with inherent medicinal properties. “In truth, you are just really boring.”

Severus looked up from his own reading material to throw her an unimpressed look.

“See, it’s that glare that keeps people away. You should smile more. Or wear glasses. Preferably tinted ones.”

He rolled his eyes and returned to Potions for Squibs. From time to time, he would jot down notes on useful draughts. He could harvest most of the ingredients even in Cokeworth. Some, though, he might have to steal from the greenhouses before they left for London in two hours.

Planning around the trace was a tedious affair. He certainly had forgotten how restricting it was not to be able to do magic outside of Hogwarts. If his mother hadn’t killed herself at the beginning of fifth year, he could have at least borrowed her wand and performed some spells near the house. However, that option was gone. Their home now was registered as pure muggle.

Since their Hogsmeade date, Macdonald and Severus had fallen into an easy companionship. While the girl was a slower reader than Lily, she proved herself useful enough as a research assistant. Their daily library dates had been born out of Severus’ aversion to wasting time by sitting around idly in the courtyard. He had insisted they at least do something valuable while forcing their fake relationship down everyone’s throat.

Apparently, the Marauders expected him to deliver Macdonald to the Dark Lord any minute. They always sat at the table next to them in the library and glared at Severus. Whenever he put a book back on the shelves, they would snatch it and check it for malicious content.
Once, he had given in to his bitter childhood grudge and grabbed a book called Ninety-nine ways to kill werewolves. Watching Lupin grew paler with each page had been quite amusing.
Dumbledore’s disapproving glare at dinner reminded him to reign in his temper, though. The Marauders must have tattled, as he had been explicitly told not to reveal Lupin’s affliction after the Shack incident. No need to alienate the teachers even more.

Most of Hogwarts thought Macdonald a headcase. Or blind, at least. As Rosier had put it the other day, “Am I a flubberworm? How come even Snape can get laid and I can’t?”
Once, he had overheard Macdonald defending her choice to the Marauders in the hallway. It had been hilarious. “It’s the inside that counts,” she had countered their disparaging summary of his facial features. Severus had been sure to display his snarkiest and most ill-tempered side that afternoon, even sending a stinging hex at a noisy second-year during their evening session in the library. Macdonald had given him an exasperated glance. “I thought you liked my personality,” he had joked. She had thrown a book after him, and then they had bolted in sync to escape Irma Pince’s wrath.

Lily was disgustingly supportive of their fake relationship, to the point that it sometimes felt more like a threesome. She would join them in the library and be especially nostalgic about their past. Of course, Severus knew what she was doing. She was waxing poetically about their childhood to remind him that there were so many good muggles like their elementary school teachers. She was like a dog who had been shown a bone: Lily was trying to reform him, now that he had made the first “step” away from his Slytherin classmates.

Then there was Mulciber’s reaction. It was not quite as harmless as those of the pseudo-criminal band of Gryffindors led by Potter, but enjoyable nonetheless. He viewed their fake relationship as a personal affront. “She’s a slut!” he had told Severus viciously the night of the first Hogsmeade date. “Sure you want sloppy seconds?”
Severus had merely shrugged his shoulders while he continued reading in his bed. “Well, better me than you, then, right?”
That had shut Mulciber up for good. Still, Severus could feel the boy’s resentment grow with each passing day. To alleviate the tension, he had even let himself trip when Mulciber cast a hex against him on the way to breakfast. Taking a hit for Macdonald was really no big deal; and he would like Mulciber’s mind not to turn to darker thoughts. A couple of his clothes also disappeared. It had smelled a bit burnt in their dorm, but Severus hadn’t commented. He would gladly sacrifice a couple of his things as long as it kept Mulciber placated.
“Maybe the house-elves mistook your trousers for a cleaning rag,” Mulciber had mused with an evil glare when the boys had packed their things into their suitcases the night before.
He would need to get replacement clothes, anyway, as he would hit one last growth spurt soon. He’d have to stop by the Mission in Cokeworth. It was a shame that the people who were well-off enough to donate clothes usually also had a much … larger … frame than him. Then Severus remembered that this time around, his friendship with Lily was bent, but not broken. He could just approach Mr Evans in a quiet minute. The man had been kind enough to lend him his clothes in the beginning of fourth and fifth year. He might just finally be exactly the man’s size and not have to ask his mum to shrink them down.
Not that Eileen Snape could do that anymore.

***

Turning his back to Hogwarts felt like such a relief. He really had out-grown having his behaviour constantly judged by teachers and prefects alike.
While he was walking next to his fellow Slytherins towards the train, he mentally went through his to-do list.

• Visit Macdonald’s father in St. Mungo’s to fulfil his side of their deal.
• Look up Tom Riddle in the Muggle archives in London.
• Check out Wool’s Orphanage and find either children who were housed there at the same time as the Dark Lord or an old warden.
• Meet up with Avery in Knockturn Alley to finally get his hands on Magick Moste Evile.

***

On the train, Macnair and Mulciber had joined a compartment with a couple of upper-years who Severus highly suspected were Death Eaters in the making, too. “Not for dirty ears,” they had said and looked at Severus in particular, “and cry-babies who need the help of Mudbloods to pass their OWLs.”
This left him and Avery to fend for themselves in the over-crowded Hogwarts Express. The compartments might not have been filled out completely, but the inhabitants usually were not the kind that would welcome them with open arms.
“Let’s just hex the next Mudblood we find,” Avery suggested. “I want to sit down already!”
Severus ignored the boy. Instead, he carried his suitcase further down the train, past the Marauders who were busy snacking on sweets.
Then he found them. He turned around to Avery and with his sternest teacher voice he commanded, “Behave.” Then he entered the girls’ compartment.

Lily and Macdonald looked up, startled by their sudden intrusion. His childhood friend seemed rather alarmed by his sidekick, instantly grabbing her wand. Macdonald, however, put her hand on Lily’s elbow.
He could read the doubt in her eyes, but also her innate trust that Severus would not endanger her.
Gryffindors were really foolish.

“Got two seats for us?”

“Sev, I don’t think –“
“Not with Mudbloods, Snape!”

“Of course, Severus. I missed you.” Mary smiled brightly and put her jacket away to free the space next to her. He threw his suitcase on the rack, then sat down.
Avery still was in the middle of a glaring contest with Lily, but then he flopped down next to the red-head, leaving as much space between them as possible.

Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest, throwing a covert glance in Macdonald’s direction. Their eyes instantly met. She was always quick to let him know what she felt, what she thought.
He’s harmless. Well, harmless enough. Avery cares more about Quidditch than about blood.

He turned away to stare out the window as Scotland flew past them.

“Hey, are any of you going to watch Quidditch in the summer?” Macdonald asked.

***

“It’s stupid!” Lily insisted. “People are dying and they just won’t cancel the Cup. Do you even know how many Aurors will have to protect the audience there? It takes away from what they should really be doing.”

“But it’s Quidditch!” Avery was outraged. “It’s going to be the last professional game of Wronski, the God of Seekers! You can't cancel that!”

They continued squabbling until the train pulled into King’s Cross. Macdonald threw Severus an amused glance, before the four of them collected their luggage and left the compartment.

Avery seemed uncertain, suddenly, when they stood on the platform. “See you, then,” he mumbled, before rushing off to meet his parents.
“He doesn’t seem so bad.” Macdonald stood next to him while Lily hugged her mother.
Not so bad.
Memories of Avery dragged forward and filled his mind. He would kill Muggles and Muggle-borns on a whim, just because he was told to. The same evening, he would get drunk and look for women in a bar, completely untouched by the cruel acts he committed. Yet, he would not have enough of a spine to admit to his deeds after the Dark Lord's fall, claiming to have been imperiused to escape Azkaban the first time around. On the eve of the Dark Lord’s return, he would then be the first to re-appear in the cemetery. He would also crawl in front of the Dark Lord after his failure to remove the prophecy from the Ministry by himself. He would suffer Cruciatus after Cruciatus, just to thank their Lord for his mercy.
“He’s a follower,” Severus quietly told Macdonald. “He will always do what he’s told.”

“Severus!” he heard Mrs Evans call him. “Come on. We’re going home.”

He forced a smile on his lips because Lily’s parents had always been kind to him. From first year onwards, they would drive him back to Cokeworth without commenting on why his own parents just … didn’t. Even when Lily and he had stopped being friends, they had invited him along, knowing that there was no one at the train station for him.
“Thank you, but I have plans with Mary. We’re going to a café in London, first.”

Lily’s eyes widened in surprise, quickly glancing back and forth between Macdonald and him. “You didn’t invite me” she accused her friend.

“Oh, you and … Mary?” Mrs Evans blinked.

“They’re together” her daughter explained in a hushed voice. Then she turned to Severus, “How do you get back home, then?”

“My mom’s going to drive him,” Mary lied, apparently taking in the challenging undertone in Lily’s voice.

Mrs Evans’ eyes sprang between the teenagers as if she couldn’t decide what to make of this triangle. “I see, Severus. Well, have fun. See you soon, then.”

“Bye, Mrs Evans.” He inclined his head out of respect.
It filled him with sadness to see them leave the train station: Mr Evans and Mrs Evans had their daughter between them.
Dead, all of them, in his time. He became angry; irrationally, irritatingly angry about the fact that he didn’t know what had happened to them. They must have been gone before Lily. Why else would her son have ended up with Petunia instead of Rose Evans?
Why had he never cared to find out what happened to the Evanses? They had been … nice to him.
Invited him to dinner, occasionally.
Mrs Evans had always given him a plaster or a bandage when he turned up injured after a round with his father.

How was he supposed to protect anyone if he didn’t even know what was going to happen?
Why hadn’t he cared more about the people around him?

“Everything okay?” Macdonald suddenly asked.

Severus hit his fist against the brick wall next to him. The pain grounded him in the present. “I am great,” he spat. “Just great.”

“I can see that,” she commented carefully. “If it’s about the train fare home, I can lend you the money, you know.”

He looked up at her. “You’re not lending me anything. You’re paying.”

Macdonald shrugged her shoulders while picking up her suitcase. “I suppose that’s the price of your services. You better be worth the money, Snape,” she joked.

You know I am, he sent her way.

“That I do.” She gifted him a small smile. Then her eyes turned towards the staircase that would lead them outside to Muggle London. Even without taking a peek, Severus could read the nervous tension in her body.

***

St. Mungo’s was bustling with the weirdest emergency cases as always. It took them nearly half an hour to get to the front of the queue, and Severus had spotted at least three potions accidents, five cases of infectious diseases and one person he strongly suspected of having tried sexual liaison with a Hippogriff.
The nervous wreck of a receptionist barely glanced up when she told them the room number. Artefact Accidents were kept on the ground floor. Severus trailed after Macdonald who moved quietly through the sea of visitors.

The last time Severus had been in St. Mungo’s, he had visited Arthur Weasley to check out his snake wound. Dumbledore and all healers had despaired, seeing as that the poison was keeping the blood from coagulating. Arthur was continually bleeding from all orifices, and only being kept stable by litres of blood-replenishing potion and continuous first-rate medical supervision paid for by Dumbledore's vaults at Gringott's.

It had been a close call as the sheer amount of blood-replenishing potion started to shut down Arthur's liver.

Together with one of the healers, they had created the antidote just in time. Afterwards, Severus had returned with a heavy heart to his position in Hogwarts and his less-than-stellar lab inventory. He had always fancied a research position in the hospital, but his application had been thoroughly rejected at the end of the first war. Dumbledore had kept Severus from Azkaban, but his name had forever been associated with the Dark Lord.
He had sent out a couple of other applications but his efforts to leave Hogwarts had slowly died down. Disappointed, Severus had stayed on as Potions professor thirteen more years until his services were once more needed in the wake of the Dark Lord’s return.

Bloody ironic to be slaughtered by the same snake as Arthur Weasley, in a way. Potter probably could have administered the antidote in his cloak pocket but … there are more important things than a single person’s happiness. Priorities. Potter needed the memories more than the world needed Severus Snape.
Or you are just a coward, his mind supplied. Because you could not be sure Potter would have helped you. And you never ask for things you know you cannot have

It was a somber affair to move through the Artefact Accidents ward. Macdonald’s father had been put at the end with the other hopeless cases. Most of the rooms were occupied and healers hurried down the corridor with trays of potions.

There were two men in the room. Severus let his gaze roam over the sterile walls. Someone had put flowers near Macdonald’s father. At least, the chart at the end of the bed identified the sleeping body as Magnus Macdonald.
“You have his mouth,” Severus commented. He placed the visitor chair next to the man’s bed and studied him. Macdonald hadn’t drawn close. She was firmly rooted next to the door as if she was afraid of facing her sleeping father.
Severus grabbed the man’s hand. He had lost a lot of body mass despite the nutrient potions. This was barely a man. More like a mass of bones held together by skin.

“I need you to hold his eyes open.”

Macdonald sighed, then she approached the bed reluctantly. Her fingers ghosted across her father’s arm. Then she touched his face to guide his eyelids up.

“Will this hurt him?” she whispered.

“Did I ever hurt you with Legilimency?”

Mary kept silent.
Severus gazed into these brown orbs that held neither signs of life nor of thought.
“Not intentionally,” Mary suddenly replied.

“What?”

“You lie a lot when you talk, Snape. However, your thoughts always speak the truth. And the truth can hurt a lot. Like when you said Lisa’s cat was dead anyway.”

Severus remained focussed on these brown eyes. He could see Macdonald’s fingers tense up.

“Keep his head still,” he commanded pointlessly. It was not as if the man showed any signs of movement.

Magnus Macdonald’s head was… empty. Severus waited, he prompted small memories of the man’s daughter, smiling, crying, but no reaction followed. One minute, two minutes. Slowly, he drew back. Then he put his fingers over Macdonald’s and pressed the man’s eyes shut once more.

He dared not look up. The way Macdonald projected her thoughts and feelings all the time to him … he knew he would find desperation.

“He’s tired,” Severus fibbed, his gaze directed at the man’s solemn, relaxed face. “When he thinks of you, he feels happy. But he is too tired to wake up anymore.”

Nothing but silence.
Then Macdonald whispered, “Look at me, Snape.”
He did, occluding as if he expected her to know Legilimency.

Since he was still sitting on the visitor’s chair, Macdonald loomed above him. For once, he could not feel anything from her as she was not letting him in, and he was not about to intrude on her privacy.

“As I said, Snape,” Macdonald said quietly. “You lie a lot when you talk.”

Severus averted his eyes. “I looked. Happy now?” His voice was gruff, defensive. “Because I am done wasting my afternoon with your family drama.”

He made to get up, but Mary grabbed his arm. Desperation was pooling off her every word, every movement. “I am no child,” she insisted while quoting him from the night he had killed the cat. “There is no saving him and I‘ve known that for a while.”

Severus angrily turned around and looked at her face to tell her off for touching him without permission. He accidentally caught the backlash of her feelings, of her thoughts, of her …. plan.
She was pouring everything out, finally coming clean.

He pushed her away with enough violence to have Macdonald hit the wall of the room. His vision was tinted in red, fury pulsing through his every muscle. “Say it,” he spat out. “Say what you really wanted me here for.”

He hadn’t dived into her mind as she had always so freely given him access to her every thought.
Well, not every.

“Can you…” Mary did not even complain about the rough treatment. She was looking at him as desperate as Narcissa Malfoy had once done. “Can you release him from this … in-between?”

“Fucking name it what it is,” he demanded. “You want me to kill him. Because that’s what I am to you, right? A murderer.”

Her eyes watered. “You put the cat out of her misery.”

“So, what’s another stain on my soul, right? Not like it would matter to you and your Gryffindor values! As long as somebody as wicked as me does the deed!”

He had enough of being treated like an assassin!

“You saw it yourself! He’s gone – that’s … that’s not him anymore. It wouldn’t really be murder.”

Severus smiled an ugly smile, full of hurt and the wish to cut her as deep as possible. “Use your own fucking wand, then. You know the incantation. I assure you, it’s easy.”

“Snape -“

He once again pushed her off him and stormed out of St. Mungo’s.

Chapter Text

Severus was still furious at Macdonald when he entered the lobby of the London Library. He had walked all the way from St. Mungo's to St. James’s Square, as he had no money whatsoever on him, neither pound nor knut. So far, he had relied on Macdonald to pay for their fare. His stomach was already turning at the thought of how to get back to Cokeworth. He could go to Diagon Alley to hide his magic in the busy hubbub of the shops. The trace could not pick up individual magic, after all. If he practiced wandlessly, he might be able to pick-pocket some pounds from a half-blood or two.

Severus was resourceful, if nothing else.

He quickly turned towards the Mahogany reception desk. The London Library was as magnificent as he remembered. In elementary school, his class had once made a day trip to London on the 125th anniversary of the institution. Proudly, the same plague above the reception desk still proclaimed that there were more than one million books stored in these halls. However, Severus was not interested in those unlike his geeky past self who had barely contained his glee when their teacher told them anybody could borrow a book, no matter their financial situation. Books are for all people, six-year-old Severus had taken away from that visit. They did not judge their reader and give knowledge freely.

The London Library held that quiet air of dignity that came with over a hundred years of importance. There were a couple of other visitors, mostly men in their late 50s and university students.
He followed a group of Muggles towards the stairs but came to a halt next to the floor plan.

Periodicals were probably a good starting point, right?

“Sir, can I help you?”
The receptionist eyed him warily. Severus put his hands out of his pockets and stood upright to make himself seem more presentable. The Muggles in London had not paid his shabby clothes any attention, as they were used to the poverty that came with such a metropolitan city, but this library might be open to all, but he suspected the receptionist doubted his motives as he probably looked homeless to her.

“I am looking for information on a person,” he stated with confidence to appear as if he belonged there. “Where are the computers, please?”

“The… what?”

1976, you idiot!
Severus had forgotten how technologically challenged society still was. Although he rarely dabbled in Muggle lifestyle, even he had gotten used to the contraptions which could be seen in offices and institutions all around the country, and even in many houses in 1998.

“I meant … a… projector. For photographed periodicals.”

The receptionist nodded slowly. “Basement floor. Would you like an introduction to our reel system?”

Yes, please. “No, thanks. I know what to do.”

Macdonald was right. He really was a compulsive liar.
Or, his mind supplied, you are just really bad at admitting that you need help.

***

Severus heart sank as he took in the basement from the top of the stairs. The gigantic room was filled with rows and rows of reels. In the middle, there were four projectors, each occupied at the time by one of the sparse visitors. Most of the people looked like keen historians or pensioners with too much free time on their hands.

He walked down the stairs to inspect the projectors. They resembled printers with a glass top. Once you put in the reel, you could switch through the archived images using the contraption’s buttons.

The issue was finding the right reel.

In his head, he had imagined that there would be a database in which he could search for terms like, oh, Tom Riddle sr.
He had no date of birth, no nothing on the guy. Not an address, nada. The school records had only listed his blood status and name.
An Accio might do the trick, but he wasn’t even sure whether the magic could identify information that was digitally archived. And he definitely could do without being chased by a bunch of Aurors for practicing magic in front of these Muggles.

“School project, lad?” One pensioner pushed his way past Severus to retrieve a reel from one of the aisles.

“Something like that,” he muttered.

He had to be smart. He had to outsmart this stupid era which didn’t know about database search yet.
The Dark Lord’s school record had put his birthday on December 31, 1926. As he had been raised in a London orphanage, there was a good chance that he had also been born in the city.

“Excuse me,” he approached the old Muggle who had talked to him. The man seemed chatty enough. “I am looking for newspaper articles of early 1927, London. Can you help me?”

“Blimey, that’s not really specific.” The man scratched his beard. “What are you looking for? Sports news? Politics?”

“Birth announcements.”

“Ancestry project? Well, the Evening Standard for local news, I think. Come on, kid. I’ll only show you once.”

Well, Severus wasn’t a moron, so once was plenty. Quietly, he allowed the Muggle to teach him how to navigate the periodical archive.

“Bright lad,” the man praised him. “That’s how you do it.”

Severus quickly thanked the man, then he grabbed the reel and walked towards the projectors. After a bit of fumbling, the photo series scrolled past his eyes. Some pictures were grainy, some issues were missing or not in the right order.

Then, he found his first clue. Not a birth announcement with the proud parents listed, but something similar.

On January 3, the Evening Standard had reported on the death of a new mother at Wool’s Orphanage which left her new-born baby boy in the care of the institution. There was a big image of the child in the arms of a dead woman with a gaunt face and with unkempt strips of hair.
Yeah, privacy and decorum had not yet been invented in Journalism in 1927, apparently. Who thought this was appropriate for printing?

Even the Daily Prophet was not allowed to print dead bodies and blood.

Severus studied the image of the woman carefully. It was scary how much of his own mother he could see in Merope Gaunt. Instinctively, Severus knew that it had been a man who had sucked all life out of this pureblood witch. Her body seemed frail, her face was sunken in and lines of sorrow and stress had carved their way into her skin.
She hadn’t gone to Hogwarts, that much he knew as there was no file on her in the school archive. Maybe one of those pure-blooded women bred for breeding. She would not have been given any education or means to take care of herself.
If Tobias Snape hadn’t been raised too Catholic to throw his pregnant wife out, that might have been his mom and himself.

He had been concentrating so much on the woman that he had neglected to pay attention to his surroundings.

“Seems like a sad story.”

Severus almost tripped backwards before he caught himself against the projector.

“Did you follow me?” he shouted, drawing the surrounding Muggles’ disdain on them.

Macdonald made a shushing noise which just left him feeling like breaking her finger.

“In case you idiot need it spelled out: Leave me alone,” he whispered harshly.

“In case you idiot need it spelled out: I am sorry.”

Severus glared at her. “You are many things, Macdonald, but you are not sorry.”

“Alright, I am sorry that apparently, I hurt your feelings. I just … I thought … you wouldn’t mind.”

“Well, I minded. A lot. Apology not accepted. Leave!”

“What are you even doing here?”

“Why do you Gryffindor girls always sneak up on me and stick your nose in my business? Just go!”

“Quiet!” One of the keen historians walked up to them with a stern face. “One more word out of you children, and I will have you thrown out!”

“Sorry,” they said in a chorus until the man went back to his projector.
Severus balled his hands to a fist, then unclenched them. Finally, he turned back to his own contraption with the intent to ignore the girl altogether until she would get the idea.

“Who is that anyway?” Macdonald asked. “A relative?”

He almost snapped back Why, because she’s ugly and has black hair? but contained his anger. Macdonald was looking for a reaction to continue this pointless conversation.
“Nobody you need to concern yourself with.”

Severus scrolled through the articles on the next day and the day after. There was another message by the orphanage in which they had thanked the public for the donations in the boy’s name.

A lot of young mothers are left to fend for themselves these days,” one Ms Cole, a young trainee at Wool’s Orphanage, stated, “No matter their past sins, we always take them in. This young soul had the baby within an hour. She was dead in another hour. She didn’t say much, really, other than that the boy should be called Tom Marvolo Riddle. Of course, the babe will be cared for, but it is a shame when fathers do not help to carry the burden they place on girls. Please, if you recognise the mother, come forward. Nobody should be buried in a nameless grave. We will gladly accept anonymous tips, as well.”

Severus read the next issues, too, but after two more mentions of the incident, one at the end of January, one in February, the Evening Standard forgot about the affair altogether.

Frustratedly, he hit his head against a nearby shelf.

“Careful, you’ll still need that next school year.”

Severus ignored Macdonald’s jab.

“You’re not getting rid of me. So why not make my presence a tad more useful? Are you interested in the mother or the child? I can help.”

“You. Can’t. Help”, he said slowly, sure to put meaning behind every syllable.

“Try me.”

He looked up in her warm brown eyes.

“Don’t.” He broke off the connection as he could feel her sending out her feelings.

“Coward.”

Severus’ eyes instantly flew upwards, meeting hers. He hated that word, hated it with a PASSION! Who was she to judge him! Who was Potter to judge him!
Then he caught her feelings of shame. Of … regret. Look, her eyes screamed at him.

“Stop goading me,” he whispered. “Just stop.”

“I want you to read my mind,” Macdonald said, “because I want to be worthy of your trust again.”

Severus snorted. “I don’t trust people. Ever.”

Macdonald hesitated, then laid her soul bare, “If you’re not going to look, you’ll have to listen. You see. I asked you for that horrible thing today because I knew you were courageous. You put yourself in harm’s way, even when it’s not your own battle to fight. And I knew that you would be kind to my father. Like how you spared the cat all that suffering. I asked you, Snape, because unlike you, I am a coward. Just like with Lisa’s cat, I couldn’t do it myself. I don’t think you less than me. It’s exactly the opposite.”

Severus closed his eyes, slowly breathed in, then out. “Macdonald, I – “

“Snape. I am not going to ask this of you again, now that I know it hurts you. Trust me.”

Trust. That was the issue. Severus couldn’t remember when he had last fully trusted a person. Everybody wanted something, in the end.
Well, he had trusted her not to lie to him because she always seemed so open, so… Gryffindor about everything. However, a lie of omission was still a lie.
Why had he even granted her that sliver of trust when he hadn’t let anybody this close in 20 years?
The truth was … it hit him with blunt force … he had seen her as a victim.
It hadn’t been her who had treated someone as less.

Severus closed his eyes for a moment in shame, sighed loudly, then commanded in his best approximation of his previous teacher voice, “You will solve your family problems on your own, is that clear?”

Macdonald smiled a defeated, sad smile. “Of course.”

He exhaled his nervosity. This was an admission that was past overdue, and if he hadn’t thought her fragile, he would have confronted her already. It was her story, after all, not his. “I’ve known about you and Mulciber for two weeks now. That’s why I was … maybe … a bit … nicer.”

Her bottom lip quivered but, again, she nodded. “I figured you knew. You just had to with that mind thing of yours.”

All facts laid bare between them.

“I pretended not to know, yet you’re not furious?” he asked, morbidly curious about her answer.

Macdonald blushed, for once averting her eyes. “I think … I trust you? You must have had your reasons for keeping quiet. Besides, I know that you’ll keep my secret.”

“You trust me?” Severus echoed.

“I mean. I can tell that something dark is going on with you. Everyone’s talking about how you failed potions and how Avery passed. It’s an open secret that you cheated for him. Some say you did it for You-Know-Who. And you still hang out with Mulciber. And you’re here now, which is weird and maybe a bit suspicious. James and Sirius also warned me that you were sneaking around in the castle every night. I don’t even know what you were doing the night you killed Lisa’s cat. But I think … whatever you’re doing … so far, it has never been to hurt me. So… I trust that whatever you’re up to … it won’t hurt me.”

A harsh laughter escaped Severus’ throat. “You’re an idiot!”

“Am I?”

It was frightening and exhilarating at the same time. Nobody had ever laid all their eggs in his basket. Even Dumbledore had constantly held Lily’s memory over his head to ensure his loyalty.
And here she was, this Gryffindor nobody who didn’t originally live to even fight the fight. She trusted him that he would not hurt her.

“My darkness,” he enunciated, “could swallow you, Macdonald. You should stay away from me.”

She bit her lip. “I’ve been touched by darkness, already. I don’t think you can make it worse.”

He forced his hands on hers, pinning her in place opposite to him on the projector’s other side. Macdonald startled but did not fight him. He bent over, whispering harshly, “You know what I am doing? I am researching a Mudblood I am going to fucking kill. Because that’s what I do. I eat death. Unless you want in, you better leave now.”

Macdonald’s eyes were widened in shock. For a second, he could read fear in them. Then, something else won the inner battle. Her thought cut him like a knife. I don’t believe you. Because when you talk, you lie, Snape.

He lost himself in those brown orbs. Severus could see himself reflected in them, in all his ugliness, inside and outside. He could see his own eyes, too.

If you stared long enough into the abyss, it stared back, huh.

In his future, she was as dead as he was.
Two ghosts talking to each other in this hall of memories.

I am going to kill this baby.

Mary gulped, but other than that there was no sign she had received his thought.

I can’t tell you why. I am not going to endanger you like that, especially since your mind is as open as the lobby of St. Mungo’s.

“Does he deserve to die?” Mary whispered.

My most faithful servant.
While you live, Severus, the Elder Wand cannot truly be mine.
Nagini’s teeth in his neck. Exploding pain. Realization that this was the end.

He was cowering on the floor. The Death Eater robes felt heavy as he had not donned them for thirteen years.
I thought you lost to me, Severus. After all, I could not keep my promise to you. She was beautiful, though. Her red hair. But she would not stand aside.

Love, Severus? Really? For that mudblood?
Spare her, please.

Charity Burbage pleaded with him while the snake drew closer.
Severus, please!
Nagini swallowed her whole, her yellow eyes staring at Severus as if she were promising him a similar future.

“That man deserves to die, yes.”

Mary looked into his eyes, searchingly. Then she nodded slowly. “How can I help?”

He exhaled. “I only have his father’s name. Tom Riddle. A Muggle.”

She hummed, finally freeing her hands from his and tipping the projector’s buttons until the original first entry was shown. Mary studied the image of the baby, the dead mother, the article accompanying the report on the life lost and life born.
“1927”, she mused, then looked pensively towards Severus. “How old is your dad?”

He… honestly couldn’t remember his father’s birth year. Tobias Snape had been dead a long time. “40? Why?”
Oh my god, had he actually died younger than his drunkard of a father?

“The baby daddy would have been born around 1890 to 1910, right?”

Severus shrugged. He couldn’t really see the numbers going anywhere. “If you suggest we check the country’s birth records of those years, that does sound like we will spend not just these summer holidays in the library.”

Mary rolled her eyes as if he was a moron. Severus rather objected to that gesture. “I am talking about the Wars.”

“Yeah, I don’t see it.”

“Honestly”, she said loud enough to once again get the disgruntled historian’s attention and another angry glare in their direction, “have your Muggle grandparents never talked about the bloody war to you? That’s their generation if you do the maths. That baby daddy was either in one of them or both depending on his age.”

Severus had never known any grandparents, Muggle or Pureblood, both having been completely horrified by their respective child’s choice in partner. “Talk me through your idea”, he demanded. “Is that … good for us?”

Mary grinned slightly. “Well, the survivors usually got medals and stuff. Sure, your Tom Riddle might not be in any of the records, but that’s something to check, at least?”

***

It was a needle in a haystack. But Severus was tenacious. He would find the needle.

***

To the relief of the other visitors in the auditorium, they hurried towards the stairs to get to the modern history section of the London Library.

It took them nearly two hours of looking through boring lists of military honors’ owners, knighthoods granted by the King, and so on, until they stumbled across a name that was familiar and unknown to them at the same time. Thomas Riddle.
Not quite Tom Riddle.
The man had served in the First War and survived, getting himself a laudation by the King.

“What does the SQR in brackets stand for?” Mary pointed it out to him.

“A squire”, Severus mused. “That’s a title bestowed upon nobles and their descendants.”

A royal title connected to a transferral of land ownership. Which meant ….

Severus frantically searched the history section for the thickest book on English counties and hereditary estates. Once he cleaned it off the dust, he leafed through the entries until he found what he was looking for.
The town and countryside of Great Hangleton, bestowed upon the Riddle Family by Queen Elizabeth in 1589 for services rendered in the war effort against the Spanish Armada.
The entry talked about influential family members, mostly politicians, for example… Thomas Riddle, a Conservative Member of the British Parliament in 1910.

“Thomas Riddle, member of parliament in 1910”, he quickly relied the information to Macdonald who was already grabbing some other books from the shelves.

“Oh!” Mary pushed a biography of influential British politicians of the 20th century under his nose and showed him Thomas Riddle’s entry. “He had a son named Tom Riddle who lost at the General Election in 1935. Quite the embarrassment for the family. Apparently, there were unsavoury allegations about his first marriage. The woman suddenly disappeared in 1926 a couple of months after their shot-gun wedding, probably baby-related, if you ask me, and there were rumours he had killed his wife and covered it up. The police investigated but couldn’t find any trace of her anywhere. The son claimed that she was a witch and that this was the reason he threw her out and why she disappeared into thin air. When that came up during the election, he was declared a nutter and maybe-murderer, and lost big time. A complete embarrassment for his politician dad.”

Severus stared at Thomas Riddle’s entry. It was all there.
“We got him”, he stated.

Great Hangleton.

***

Two hours later, Severus felt like crawling out of his skin when Macdonald’s mother opened the door to their apartment.
The woman also had blond locks, but there was some grey in her hair that betrayed the stress she suffered at her workplace. The back office of a big retailer, Macdonald had explained.

“Mary, you are late! Where have you –”

She stopped mid-rant as she took in the uninvited guest next to her daughter.

“Nice to meet you, Mrs Macdonald”, Severus said and pushed out his hand. He knew his clothes could not endear himself to her but the Gryffindor girl had insisted that he stay with them, as there had been no trains going to Cokeworth this evening anymore.

Mrs Macdonald grabbed his hand on pure instinct.

“This is Severus, Mom, a classmate. His train was … cancelled. So I thought he could maybe stay the night?”

The woman crossed her arms but let them in. Severus awkwardly followed Mary, careful to carry both their suitcases to at least appear a gentleman.
The apartment was filled with Muggle knickknack, appliances and the walls were covered in family pictures. This was a home of love, indeed.

“Mary, why are you this late, though?”

“That’s my fault”, he intercepted quickly. “I did not want to be a burden, so she tried to help me find a free ride back to Cokeworth.”

The woman’s eyes flickered to her daughter, who for once seemed competent enough to fake her emotions. Ah, the bonds between parent and child.

“Well, Severus, I suppose you can stay on the couch. We don’t have a guest room.” The woman almost sounded sorry which was weird considering that he was an intruder.

“That would be very kind of you.”

“Mary, can you get a blanket out of the closet, please? I’ll show you how to use the phone, alright? So that you can call your parents.”

Call his father? Severus looked at Mrs Macdonald with a blank face. Then he followed her to the kitchen, and to his utmost embarrassment, she stayed in the background cutting carrots while he was trying to remember their landline number. Slowly, he dialled and prayed to God that Tobias Snape would be too drunk to wake up.
He had used up his daily ration of luck, though.
His father’s gruff shout that he didn’t care whether Severus lay dead in a ditch or not and that he hadn’t even known that the school year was over seemed to at least gain him some sympathy points with Mrs Macdonald. He was just glad she didn’t comment and merely asked if he had any allergies as she prepared dinner.

Severus could not say that absence had made his heart grow fonder. Hearing his father’s voice just reminded him of why he had joined the Dark Lord’s ranks this willingly.
Some people just should not procreate.

Macdonald’s family seemed so normal, so … loving in contrast. Severus felt overwhelmed by all of this because her mother would suddenly tell him that it was okay to shower, or put more food on his plate, or ask him inane questions like “What’s your favorite subject”.

He liked Mrs Macdonald.
And it scared Severus.

Keeping people at a distance kept himself safe. Kept them safe.
What was he doing?

During the night, he stared at the ceiling of the living room and listened to the soft snores in the other rooms. Macdonald’s mother had even turned up the heater for him, so that he would not get cold during the night.

Then, he finally identified the feeling that sat in his chest and had pressed on him during dinner and while they were watching the news on the television together.
He felt guilty because he endangered this poor woman’s daughter. He dragged her into something that was not her fight.

But wasn’t it?
She was a half-blood Gryffindor. Had been singled out by Mulciber.

Trust me, she had asked of him.

Having a Gryffindor by his side could be an asset. She was good with people.

Wool’s Orphanage had been demolished a couple of years ago, as Severus had found out in the London Library when he had done a quick search to get the address. Their next clue was Great Hangleton where the Riddles resided.
It probably would be harmless enough to take her with him.

Besides, people preferred talking to a blond girl with a nice smile to dealing with his permanent scowl and unkempt appearance.

Chapter Text

Returning to Spinner’s End filled Severus with unease and uncertainty.
Despite the fact that he had not changed much in his childhood home after he had inherited it, he could already feel the oppressive presence of his father once he entered the windowless hallway. Tobias’ coat was draped over the knob of the stairs, and his heavy boots rested in the middle of the dim corridor. Quietly, he closed the front door behind him, careful to mind the broken lock that Tobias had not gotten around to repairing in seven years.
As an adult, he had thrown out most of his parents’ belongings in furious glee. Some, he had gotten rid of first thing in the morning after the police informed him of his father’s fatal tumble in front of a lorry. It hadn’t taken long to collect the stuff. Severus had grabbed whatever, like the framed miner’s certificate above the television or the army medal from his parents’ bedroom drawer, thrown them into a carton and taken them straight to the local dump.

Watching the carton being crushed by the mechanical press had been cathartic.

The bulkier remnants of his parents had soon found their way out of Spinner’s End, too. The bed had gone to the local council’s waste collection, just like the rocking chair that Tobias had built with his own hands. By the time Severus was killed, his parents’ room had been cleaned out and closed off for two decades.

Now, Severus carried his suitcase upstairs, navigating the uneven steps. He almost lost his footing, though, as he had forgotten that the seventh step had a hole and should be avoided at all costs. As an adult, he had gotten rid of the death trap with a quick Reparo in a matter of seconds.
No can do.
Tobias had always hated magic more than the need to skip that step. He had thrown a fit when his wife once had fixed a broken chair to the point that he had smashed it to pieces again. “That's its natural state”, he had snarled. “Don’t interfere with nature!”

Unnatural. That’s what Severus and Eileen had been to him.
And Tobias Snape’s instinctive reaction to things he could not understand had always been to beat it into submission.

***

Dinner was a silent affair. Severus ate alone in the kitchen while his father was watching a football game in front of the television. The man had ignored him altogether.
“Run faster, you lazy bastard!”, Tobias shouted, then groaned as his team’s player lost the ball.

Severus wondered what Macdonald and her mother were up to. He put some water in the kettle hoping that the tea would warm him from the inside, as the house was freezing. Maybe his father had troubles with the gas suppplier once again. They did not like late payments, after all.

After he poured the hot water on the cheap teabag, he carried his cup to the living room. The paper already started to come apart. Chopped herbs floated on the liquid surface.

Severus sat down on the rocking chair and watched the match as well. He hadn’t seen one in a long time.

It was awkward to find similarities between Tobias Snape and his future self. The man was lanky, too, and he had a strong nose with a set jaw that spoke of his stubbornness. Rough, one would describe his facial features. The dark hair that reached partly over his ears was choppy, probably as he had cut it himself to save on the hairdresser. Unlike Severus, though, the man had big shoulders and arms that still remembered the work in the now-closed mine.

“Something you want?” the man suddenly grunted.

“It’s nothing.”

Tobias groaned once again as his goalkeeper failed to defend against the other team’s striker. “You should eat less, you bag of meat," he mumbled. During the next ball exchanges, none of which led to any interesting moments, his father turned around: “Do we owe that friend of yours money? The one you stayed with.”

Severus shook his head quickly. He could feel the tension rising. Tobias always became angry when he talked about money, mostly because he felt like he was either cheated out of it by the tax office and his current employer or he thought he had to pay too much for Severus' and Eileen's frivolous lifestyle. “I took care of the train ticket.” Well, Macdonald had owed him after the St. Mungo’s affair. He only felt slightly ashamed to have smooched off her.

Tobias nodded disinterestedly. “Money’s tight. Don’t waste too much food.”

When was it not?
Severus kept the comment to himself. Slowly, he took a couple of sips. The herbs almost covered the rusty taste of the water.

“There might be a couple of letters for me soon. Please don’t throw them away," he said quietly. Macdonald and he had exchanged addresses, which was weird in itself. He could hardly remember receiving any personal mail ever. However, it seemed the most practical to rely on the Royal Mail Service seeing as that they both had no owls and lived in Muggle homes.

Tobias frowned. “Well, sort the mail yourself then. I am not gonna look at the bills just so that you get your love letter.”

***

The next day, Severus got to work as his father left the house to do… whatever. Probably visit the pub and gamble away his dole money. Severus had nicked enough ingredients from the greenhouse to start brewing one of the easier Squib potions. The recipe declared it to be a mild Calming Draught, but with a bit of fiddling, he might change the colour and initial relaxation stage enough to resemble Veritaserum. It would fetch a good price in Knockturn Alley. He also had other recipes he wanted to try, but he would have to collect some plants in the surrounding area first.

By the time the sun set down and his father returned, his room smelled like a hippie’s wet dream. He must have used too much lavender, as he himself was gagging on the perfume-y stench. He had been airing the first floor for an hour already, yet he felt nervous as Tobias came up the stairs.

“What did you fuckin’ do?”

Tobias entered his room without knocking, holding his hand against his nose.

“Homework," Severus fibbed, slightly colouring when he took in the mess he had made. He still sat on the floor next to his home-brewed non-magical Calming Draught slash fake truth serum. The texture was spot-on, as was the hue. He would have to get rid of the smell, though. And based on his father’s stormy face, rather sooner than later. “I am fixing it! Give me ten minutes! I will fix it!”

“Fix it now!”
The door smashed closed with a loud bang that revibrated in the walls.

***

The next days, Severus threw himself in the production and storage of several potions. Getting money was one of his priorities, as he had no clue how to finance his trip to Great Hangleton. Sure, Macdonald had offered to pay, but he would not leech off her all the time. It wasn’t like her family was rich – and her father’s stay at St. Mungo’s must cut into their savings as well. There was no universal healthcare in the Wizarding world, after all.

In a way, he should be glad to have died from Nagini’s poison. He certainly could not afford the treatment that Arthur Weasley had needed after his encounter with the same snake. Even though he had lived frugally, a teacher’s salary was quite low. Their living costs were deducted from the pay, seeing as that they ate and slept in the castle during school. Many of his colleagues did not even have private accommodation but rather went on vacation during the summer holidays or simply … stayed.

***

On the fourth day, he needed to collect some fresh sunflower seeds and frogspawn, both of which he probably would find in the back-yard of the Evans home. Rose Evans kept a lot of beautiful flowers there, and the pond always attracted small critter. Severus remembered that he would often stare at it through the window with envy when he and Lily did their homework together at the kitchen table. His mom would have loved to grow her own ingredients’ garden, too.
When he was little, Eileen Snape would sometimes brew a healing potion while her husband was out working. It had always fascinated Severus to see his mom in her element – she lived and breathed magic just as he did. These brewing sessions were their secret, though. When Tobias lost his job at the mine, there were no potions anymore. His father’s coming and going became too unpredictable.

Severus rang the doorbell and waited for Rose Evans to answer. Since the car was parked in the driveway, he was quite certain that the family would be home, yet he somewhat hoped that the girls would be out. Severus wasn’t looking forward to dealing with Lily. So far, their interaction in Hogwarts had been awkward because she hadn’t really matured like he had. Well, he had roughly two decades on her, so it wasn’t her fault that her behaviour felt childish too him. She was a child in comparison to him. A mere teenage girl of 15 with fickle feelings and thoughts that rarely reached beyond school matters. Yet just looking at her face and her red hair had reminded him of the times when he himself had been moderately happy. There had been few moments since his own teenage days like that. After all this time, he still knew her like a part of his own soul. She was home to him. However, Lily no longer knew him since he wasn’t that boy anymore, and he felt that loss keenly.

“Oh, Severus! Come in!” Mrs Evans smiled at him and winked him indoors. “We were already wondering where you were. Usually, Lily invites you over sooner.”

“I was a bit busy," he excused himself.

“Lily! Come down! Your friend’s here.” The woman shouted upstairs before offering him a cup of tea. He made an effort to keep up the smalltalk until Lily joined them in the kitchen. She had tied her red hair into a neat ponytail and was wearing a sporty shirt.

“Severus! I didn’t expect you,” she greeted him and grabbed herself a cup of tea as well.

“I was wondering whether I could borrow some flowers from your garden," he admitted. “I’ll be careful not to destroy anything.”

“Of course!” Mrs Evans readily agreed, speaking at the same time as Lily: “Are you preparing ingredients? I thought you weren’t taking Potions next year.”

“Just some personal experimentation. You’ll be star pupil next school year, don’t worry,” he joked.

Lily bit her lip. “I’d prefer to be your partner.”

“We’ll still have other classes together.”

Mrs Evans followed their discussing like a captive audience at a tennis match. “And you can spend time together outside of class," she added. “Friends sometimes take other directions in life, but that does not mean that you have to drift apart.”
There was something in her voice that Severus could not place. He felt like he had missed a previous conversation. Apparently, Lily got her mother’s message, though. “Enough meddling, mom. Severus and I got to pick some ingredients. What do you need, anyway?”

“Frogspawn.” He smirked at her disgusted face. Amphibians and reptiles always got to her.

***

“So, how’s Mary?” Lily asked while she harvested sunflower seeds. She kneeled in the grass next to him while he was fishing on the pond’s ground for slimy frogspawn with his bare hands.

“Great. How’s Potter?”

“Wouldn’t know.”

Severus looked up, almost cutting himself in the process on a sharp stone that he didn’t s spot in time. “You should write him," he suggested reluctantly.
He despised Potter senior, yet he somehow felt alarmed by the thought that … Harry Potter might never come into existence. As much as he disliked the stubborn child, he wanted to cling to the future he came from as much as possible.
Besides … who would fight the Dark Lord if he himself failed?

“Seriously?” Lily seemed upset by his suggestion. “You want me to write to Potter?”

“I think it’s what you want.”

Lily accidentally snapped off one of the sunflower heads. She threw it on the ground before moving on to the next one. “If you want more alone time with Mary, just say it," she offered quietly.

Well, want was not the word he would choose. In the near future, his and Macdonald’s alone time would be spent trying to kill the Dark Lord. It wasn’t exactly fun and games. “You won't mind, then?”

“I offered, didn’t I?” She snapped off another sunflower head. “Damn it!”

Severus finally felt something slimy. Triumphantly, he brought the frogspawn to the surface. “Look what I got!”

***

All in all, his visit to the Evans home was a success. Not only did he have the necessary ingredients for his non-magical pepper-up potion in his pocket, he also managed to send off Lily’s barn owl to Avery.
The sooner he found out about how the Dark Lord kept himself tied to this life, the sooner he could start unravelling that bond. Whatever ritual or spell or potion that man had used, Severus needed to know the details to work on a counter-approach.
He just hoped that book contained the answer he was seeking. Severus had no other clues in that direction. All the relevant books in the Hogwarts library had, in the end, referenced it. If it didn’t have the answer, then he needed a new approach. The ministry, maybe. Or Knockturn Alley. Both were incredibly difficult in his current form. As a minor, he would be anything but welcome in Knockturn, and the Ministry recorded its visitors. Without Polyjuice, there was no way to hide his identity. Even then, he would need to register a wand.

Maybe it was a good idea, anyway, to snatch his mother’s wand. In case he needed to cast magic that would get him in trouble if someone used Prior Incantato to reveal cast spells. Severus had a vague memory that his mother’s wand was still in the drawer in his parents’ bedroom. Tobias had never bothered throwing out Eileen’s clothes. Everything had still been there when Severus inherited the dump in Spinner’s End.

Alright.

1. Get mom’s wand.
2. Meet Avery in Knockturn Alley. Get book. Sell fake potions.
3. Take Macdonald on a sightseeing trip to Great Hangleton.
4. Kill the Dark Lord, preferably sooner than later.

Yeah. Should be doable in, say, six weeks, right?
Severus sighed. Well, as long as he would off the Dark Lord before 1981, there would be a net win on lives saved in this timeline compared to his own.

So far, he hadn’t screwed up too badly. When looking at Lily’s Daily Prophet editions, he could not spot anything out of the expected. Things were moving as they once had, and that meant his knowledge of the future was still valuable.

***

Severus indulged Lily some more. They played a couple of rounds of Wizarding Chess before he decided that it was time to return to Spinner’s End. As he was putting on his shoes, Mr Evans returned from work. The man nodded friendly, then pointed towards his car: “I can drive you, Severus. I have to go by the shops, anyway.”

Severus knew that to be a lie as the man would have hardly made the stop if he weren’t ready to return home yet. However, he didn’t call Mr Evans out. Lily’s father was trying to be kind as his own dad would definitely not pick him up.

“That would be very helpful, thank you.”

It wasn’t the first time that Mr Evans drove him back to Spinner’s End. Lily’s family had a strong dislike for the dark alleys that connected their street with the dodgy part of Cokeworth that Severus lived in. From a now-adult perspective, he could understand their unease. There were quite a few street thugs hanging around, some doing drugs, some out for easy money. Not that he looked like he had enough in his pocket. Nobody had ever tried to extort money from Severus when he was a teenager.

As soon as the motor was turned on, soft radio tunes filled the car. Severus looked outside the window as the streets flew by. It was at a traffic light near the river that divided Cokeworth into two parts that Mr Evans spoke up: “You’re growing up quite fast. I can still remember how Lily and you would tumble around on the playground. Rose almost despaired with all these grass stains.”

“My mom, too," Severus said.

“I am sorry for your loss. I don’t think I got the chance to tell you in person yet.”

Ah, yeah. Severus now remembered that he had gotten a letter by the Evans family around November in his fifth year. It had been the only condolences he had received. Well, besides Slughorn’s. As his head of house, it had fallen on the man to inform him about his mom’s suicide.

“It’s fine. She made her choice.”

The driver behind them honked angrily as Mr Evans had missed the green light because he was looking at Severus who sat next to him. Hastily, the man turned his attention to the traffic once again. They crossed the bridge into the less savoury parts of Cokeworth. Most of the people who lived here once worked for the now-closed mine. There was also the abandoned mill. Its loss had shaken the community to its core as even the women, who had turned to provide for their families, suddenly found themselves out of a job.

Mr Evans cleared his throat: “Anyways, Lily told us a lot about your girlfriend. Mary, right? She visited us a couple of times in the past. A lovely girl.”

Severus clenched his fists as he prepared himself for the speech that was to come. He recognised the tone as he himself had had to have that conversation with a couple of the orphans in his Slytherin house.
Although he wasn’t a teenager, it was still incredibly embarrassing.

“Well," Mr Evans began quite hesitantly, “I don’t know if your father talked to you about this yet. I just … feelings can be overwhelming. And it’s good to have them. Don’t get me wrong! Just sometimes, especially when you are young, you can feel too much passion and get carried away. What I am trying to say. As you are 16. Well…”

“I’ll treat her with respect," Severus cut the man off to spare himself and Mr Evans’ any further continuation of the topic.

The man nodded while pulling into Spinner’s End. “Yes, of course. I never doubted that. Neither of us did.”
Oh, great. Apparently, his fake relationship had warranted a Mr-Evans–Mrs-Evans–meetup to discuss strategy.

No wonder Lily got pregnant at 19 if this was Mr Evans’ idea of a stern talking-to. Severus himself had had quite a different approach with his Slytherins:
If you dare to get her pregnant, I will personally drag you in front of the Wizengamot for sexual conduct with a minor, and believe me, the law does not care whether you are a minor as well. I will testify against you, and get you incarcerated in the deepest cell in Azkaban. Am I making myself clear where the line is while you still attend Hogwarts? Good. Whenever you think of stepping over that line, I want you to think of me. That should solve the problem.

Severus mumbled his thanks and was about to leave the car, when Mr Evans once again addressed him: “Oh, and Severus? Be kind on Lily. She’s rather confused about her feelings now that her two best friends, well, don't need a third wheel. Especially since she didn’t see that coming.”

He nodded sharply. “Lily and I will always be friends.” For the first time in twenty years, that word warmed him from the inside instead of filling him with despair as it echoed in his chest. Always.

He would make sure that she would be there, too, in whatever kind of future awaited him.

Chapter Text

When Severus entered the house, he snuck past his father who was busy watching some darts match in the living room. Although it was mid-week, the man had not gone to work since the start of the summer holidays. The constant binge-watching and daily visits to the pub supported Severus’ theory that Tobias Snape was between jobs once again.
To be fair, his father was a hard worker when people gave him the chance, however, his prickly personality and lack of job qualifications made him untenable. As a young lad, Tobias had dropped out of school early to work in the mine, and as he had spent most of his time underground, he had missed the signs that the era of coal was slowly coming to a close in Cokeworth. Every pay-check had gone into the house in Spinner’s End until the closure, which meant they had no savings whatsoever when his father was laid off. Sure, the mining company had paid the workers some compensation, but it had barely been enough to pay off the mortgage on the house, so that their family at least didn’t end up on the streets. “If I hadn’t bought that damn thing for you,” his father had once shouted at Eileen during dinner, “I could have moved up north where there’s work. But no, you had to live in your own damn house like some damn lady!”

The creaking of the stairs underneath him had Severus hold his breath – but there was no shout to “be quiet, damnit”. Apparently, his father was either asleep or too engrossed in the match. If it wasn’t football or darts, he would often watch animal documentaries, always staring at the screen with that glossy look that betrayed his absent-mindedness.
In a way, Tobias Snape had never been happy.

His parents’ bedroom was just as stuffy and cold as Severus remembered it. The windows barely let in any of the evening light, seeing as that it hadn’t been cleaned in ages. Carefully, Severus listened if there was any noise from downstairs. Then he walked towards his mother’s side. Although she had died almost 9 months ago, everything had been preserved as if she had left the room the day before.
In fact, Tobias wouldn’t touch anything until his own death. Severus remembered removing his mother’s slippers and clothes from the room.

On Eileen’s bedside table, there was a copy of “Pride and Prejudice” with a bookmark in the middle. Severus instinctively grabbed it and opened the page.

There are few people whom I really love, and still fewer of whom I think well. The more I see of the world, the more am I dissatisfied with it.

Severus felt bitter disappointment as as he could just not feel any connection to his mother no matter how often he read these two pages.

Would it have made a difference if she had had the courage to finish the book rather than impulsively hang herself in the bathroom? Severus stroked the cover, then he tenderly opened the last chapter.

It was embarrassingly unrealistic how happy everybody seemed with Mr Darcy’s choice. How against all odds he and his poverty-stricken Elizabeth Bennett found happiness in each other despite their different upbringing and values.

Severus closed the book with a harsh snap, then chucked it against the wall where it slid to the floor.
Life didn’t have happy endings like that.

He exhaled, then opened the drawer of the bedside table to search for his mother’s wand. There was a lot of rubbish in there such as the angry letters between Eileen and her pureblood parents. Severus remembered going through them the first time around. There was nothing cathartic in reading the correspondence. He wasn’t even mentioned in the letters but for one side note when his grandparents ranted about the shame Eileen had brought onto herself.
After Tobias’ death Severus had found her wand underneath these letters, carefully hidden away and ready for use but … not in use.

Severus put his hands into the drawer and stuck his fingers past the letters but all he encountered was wood. With a frown, he removed the letters one by one and put them on the bed while feeling around for the object.

***

“What did you do with it?” Severus pointed his wand at his father who looked up in surprise, his face switching between fear and anger every second. “Where is mom’s wand?”

“I can’t see anything! Go ‘way!” Tobias shoved Severus back who had positioned himself in front of the television.

“I SAID: Where is the wand?” Severus raised his own a bit higher, directing it at his father’s chest. “You took it! You had no right!”

Tobias now straightened up. He was no longer lounging on the sofa. “What’s in my house is mine. So shove off unless you want me to break your wand, too!”

Severus was about to shout when his brain caught up to his father’s words. “You didn’t destroy it,” he snarled. Severus knew perfectly well that Tobias hadn’t. The wand would not have been in the drawer in his own past, otherwise. He frowned, now, as his righteous fury took a step back and his brain once again switched on. “What did you do with it?”

“You gonna kill me?” Tobias raised his leg to give Severus one more shove so that he was not blocking the TV screen anymore. “Put the thing away or I’ll throw you out!”

Severus lowered the wand in compliance. “It belongs to me. She was my mom!”

Tobias eyed him warily. For a second, it seemed like the man would just ignore him altogether, but then he switched off the sound of the television. His father crossed his arms over his chest and glared at him in that menacing way that Severus had inherited: “Nothing in this house belongs to you, you nuisance. Who do you think you are?”

“If you don’t tell me, I am going to make you tell me.”

Tobias face turned an ugly shade of violet as fear and hatred filled his eyes. “Big man, are ya? What’re you gonna do?”

Severus lost control. Furiously, he cut into his father’s mind, dragging the memory out that was already swimming at the forefront. It was shameful to use magic on a helpless muggle, but he could not care less about intruding on Tobias Snape’s privacy.
The Severus laughed mockingly: “Are you stupid? Of course it didn’t work for you.”

Tobias paled. Shame flickered in his eyes as he averted his eyes. “How -. I didn’t -. I – “

Severus knew that his own face would be turned up in an ugly and brutal smirk as he let his own contempt consume his every thought. “The wand doesn’t make the wizard, dad. A pity its magic didn’t kill you. Wands don’t like thieves.” Tobias opened his mouth to fight back but Severus cut him off savagely: “Where is it, you moron?”

The man seemed to weigh his options before he slowly rose to his feet. It filled Severus with a thrill when he noticed that he was the same height already. Tobias turned towards the kitchen, opened one of the drawers and took the wand. Reluctantly, he offered it to Severus. “Take the damn thing, then.”

Warily, Severus reached for it but he did not take his eyes off his father. As his own fingers touched the wand’s wood, he could feel Tobias’ conflicting emotions flicker around them. It wasn’t a conscious read – more like when Macdonald let her feelings consume her every cell because the girl just felt too much.
Tobias was … angry about being threatened. Scared of Severus, definitely. And … sad to lose the wand.

Severus shut off the connection instantly by reinforcing his Occlumency shields. He hadn’t wanted that! He didn’t want that … He …
“Now? Really? After you pushed her into an early grave? Now you’re warming to magic?” He breathed heavily as he grabbed the kitchen door to keep himself upright. His other hand held onto his mother’s wand tightly. “All your life”, Severus spat, “you ranted and raved against magic. Now you’re playing wizard?”

Tobias turned an ugly shade of red. “You’re not allowed to do magic! Stop that!”

That didn’t make any sense! His father had always hated magic. Unless … unless Severus was labouring under a false premise.

“You were jealous,” Severus stated quietly. It finally … clicked. “You were not afraid of mom and me. You were jealous.”
That’s why they could never win against him. They had always tried to placate him. They had explained all the good magic could do. It could help with the household chores, Eileen could even brew painkillers for his father’s leg injury form the mining accident that sometimes acted up.
Nothing had ever worked. Instead, Tobias had turned angry whenever they brought up how their magic could be an asset to the family.

“I don’t have time for your shit.” Tobias suddenly pushed past Severus to leave the kitchen and went into the hallway. He put on the boots as well as the cloak. “I don’t wanna see you when I come back.”

Severus followed the man to the corridor. Indecisive, he stood in the doorframe and watched as his father got ready to drown himself in alcohol and lose the last of their money at the pub.
“You fucking couldn’t deal with not being top dog,” Severus accused him. All the fights, all the … punishments and anger had never been about fear.

“I advise ya,” Tobias puffed himself up to gain a couple of centimetres on his son, “to drop this.”

“Envy is one of the seven deadly sins, you know,” Severus blurted out, instantly regretting it, not, however, because of the angry glare he got as a reaction.
Severus himself was guilty of more than one, having definitely desired another man’s woman, and been consumed with wrath and sorrow for 20 years.

“As if you heathens care ‘bout religion.”

“We believe in other things,” Severus replied. “Wizards care about family, for example.”

“’Bout blood, maybe. Don’t forget I at least know your grandparents.”
The and you don’t was heavily implied.

Tobias Snape had his hands on the door handle when he decided that he needed to get one last word in: “You know, it wasn’t easy to live with you two. With your eyes. Even as a kid you had her way of looking at me and you just knew what I was thinking. I tried, you know. I didn’t wanna let you know that I didn’t like ya. But you just knew. That ain’t my fault. I never said it.”

But you thought it.

Tobias turned around, finally facing Severus. The man looked … haunted. He had never noticed how deeply their desolate financial situation had also imprinted on Tobias, not just on Eileen and him. His clothes were dirty and worn out. They hung on him like on a corpse. The alcohol had already started to turn his eyes a bit yellow from over-indulgence, too. “From when you were three, you always did magic. I was never your hero ‘cause I couldn’t undo the stuff you did, like when you made the candles burn on the Christmas wreath or you made things float around. You never played games I could play with ya.”

“You didn’t need to be a hero. You just needed to be THERE!” Severus could feel the little sparks that erupted from his mother’s wand that he had unconsciously gripped tighter. He had to reign in his emotions lest he perform accidental magic like an eleven-year-old. “I…” He felt like he had to finally voice it, even if his child-heart struggled to accept what his adult- brain already knew. “It wasn’t my fault that you were a horrible father.”

Tobias remained quiet for a couple of seconds. “Guess not,” he whispered then, before turning around, opening the front door and throwing it shut behind him.

His father’s admission didn’t change anything, Severus noticed disappointedly. He didn’t feel any different as a person. Everything still had happened as it had happened, and his mom was still dead.

***

It was one in the morning, and Tobias hadn’t returned yet. Severus stared at his mother’s wand on the kitchen table. Outside, everything was dark as the council was saving energy by turning off the street lights at midnight.

Two o’ clock. The front door remained shut.

***

The pub was almost empty when Severus entered it. He could feel the barkeeper’s alarmed eyes on him, as he was definitely a minor and promised to be trouble. Despite the man’s cough to get his attention, Severus ignored him and instead walked through the room, carefully studying all the occupants.

“Boy. Boy!”

Then he spotted his father, who in return also looked up from his game of poker and froze in his movements.

“I’m with them,” Severus claimed towards the barkeeper and walked up to his father, pushing an empty chair up to the table.

“He’s not. I don’t know the kid!” Tobias angrily threw down his cards, then chucked the beer in front of him down.

His companions of the night eyed Severus suspiciously. They seemed the regular thug type. Street-level criminals like Mundungus Fletcher but not organized crime which probably meant Tobias and he would not die in case his drunkard of his father actually won the money in the middle of the table.
“No audience allowed. Shoo!”
“Get home to your ma, boy!”

“I agree. You should probably be home at this hour,” the barkeeper said in a deliberately soothing tone while trying to grab Severus by the shoulder.

“If I win for you,” Severus stared at his father challengingly, “will you come home?”

“Boy, you need to –“

“Can you even play poker?” Tobias narrowed his eyes.

“You never taught me, so no. But I’ll figure it out.” Severus pursed his lips and raised an eyebrow.

Tobias inclined his head: “Boy’s with me. Another beer, though.”

His companions started complaining but his father just stood up and grabbed one of the cigarette packs that were also in the game’s pot. “You do your magic. I need a break anyway.”

The man got up on shaky legs and stumbled outside. Severus took his place quietly, taking in everyone’s thoughts to get an idea of what this game was about. Slowly and methodically, he worked his way through two rounds until he had the basics down, then he annihilated the Muggles. Around the fourth round, Tobias returned and sat down next to his son, carefully studying his cards and actions without commenting at all.

“Damn cheater!” The Muggles grumbled a lot but, in the end, they had to concede before Severus’ overwhelming streak of luck.
“Told you, the boy’s straight magic.” Tobias huffed before nursing his newly-filled glass of beer.
Once the Muggles moved on to another table, Tobias eyed him quite hard for someone who could barely see straight. Severus almost was in awe because of that level of alcohol tolerance. His father smelled worse than a brewery. “You gonna drag me home, now?”

Severus collected the money carefully, dividing it into two halves. His father didn’t complain as he pocketed about two-hundred pounds. Then, he pushed the other half towards Tobias. Instead of taking it, though, the man rubbed his head with his hand. “Your mom,” he started, “thought me exciting, you know. Cause she didn’t know any Muggles. The problem is … I got less exciting the longer she knew me.”

Then Tobias shuffled the cards clumsily and started a game between the two of them. Severus sighed but he took up his hand and studied them.

“Want a beer?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I am 16.” Besides: His experience with his father had kept him from drinking even as an adult. He had been avoiding alcohol obsessive-compulsively, going as far as to not eat desserts in Hogwarts like Tiramisu. He had once read that alcohol abuse could be genetic, and Tobias always had been his anti-role model in life.

“You know,” his father slurred, “I don’t like it when you talk back to me. I liked it better when you just stayed in your room and didn’t follow me and stuff.”

“I thought you never liked me at all.”
No answer.
Severus exchanged a couple of his cards. He was dead tired, seeing as that he had brewed some more potions in the early morning. It didn’t help that he would need to travel to London in a couple of hours to sell them. Meeting Avery in Knockturn would hopefully bring him closer to defeating the Dark Lord.

You should get outta Cokeworth,“ his father suddenly said while lighting a cigarette and staring at his deplorable cards, “Do sumthin’ with your life. You got her brains, so maybe you won’t fail like me.”

Severus exhaled. “Call.”

They both revealed their cards. His victory, though, did not bring Severus any satisfaction. Quietly, he stated: “I had never any chance of winning your approval, had I?”

Tobias kept silent.

“That’s okay,” Severus said, collecting the cards and putting them together once more, “I don’t need it anymore.”

In a way, Severus felt lighter and not just because of the alcoholic fumes that filled the pub. He could not imagine forgiving this man the sorrow that he had inflicted on Eileen Prince, even if Severus himself could forget about his own hurt. However, he finally had an answer to the question that had plagued him all his life.

There was nothing inherently wrong with Severus.
Tobias Snape had just been too flawed to love his own family.

“Dad.” He looked into the man’s eyes and took him in with all his selfish feelings, and frustration, and sadness about how his life turned out. “You should pay more attention to the traffic when you are drunk.”

“You hoping I’ll follow Eileen soon?”
Severus was somewhat undecided on the matter now that he was confronted with that question. Forgiveness was hard.

Two steps forward, one step back.
But people got there in the end. Maybe them, too.
Not today, though. Severus still felt too raw.
One day, though.

He did want to become that kind of man one day.

“Let’s get you home.”

Chapter Text

It took the train three hours to get to London. Although he had gained some unexpected but welcome cash from the poker games the night before, Severus had decided against the faster and more expensive connection. Money didn’t grow on trees, after all, and especially not in the neighbourhood of Spinner’s End. The only frivolity Severus had allowed himself was a cheese sandwich at the train station. If he became thirsty, he would simply drink from the tap in one of the public toilets, as he did when he was a child.

Slow trains were rarely used for long-distance travel, so there was a steady coming and going of Muggles in his carriage. Most passengers were old ladies and housewives who didn’t have to get to work on a Thursday morning. Severus hated it when they pushed their shopping bags under the seat, as there was little enough leg space as it was. Despite his scowling, some dared to sit next to him which meant that he could not even do anything productive without breaking the Statue of Secrecy.

In lieu of better amusement, Severus penned a reply to Macdonald’s latest letter.

... While I commend your quick thinking, couldn’t you have come up with a lie that didn’t make me sound like a blubbering fool? Lily does know me since childhood, Macdonald. I cannot fathom how she could ever believe that I was ‘depressed and crying my little heart out over the death of my mom’ as well as ‘really anxious and frightened to meet my evil grandparents all on my own who are now my only connection left to my beloved late mom’. Please do call Lily up to make sure, double-sure, triple-sure, that she bought that claptrap.
If she blabs to your mom that there is, in fact, no “class” trip to the seaside, what’s going to happen then?

The plan was as fragile as simple. Mrs Macdonald right now believed that their group of friends went on a cosy trip to Brighton Beach over the weekend. If she called up Lily for confirmation, the only other classmate of Mary's that she knew, Lily had to support their lie.
Apparently, thanks to Macdonald's initiative, his childhood friend now thought Severus enough of a sappy idiot to need his girlfriend to hold his hand while visiting his grandparents for the first time. And since Mrs Macdonald, like all good mothers of 16-year-old daughters, did not like Mary to spend the night unsupervised with a boy of the same age, they needed a helpful friend to cover for them.

I expect you to come up with a credible story about our fantastic time at my grandparents. I certainly won’t waste a single thought on that elaborate soap opera of yours. Just hand me the details, so that our stories match afterwards. Anyways, concerning your question about which classes I will take next school year

Pensively, he looked up. The OWL results had arrived at daybreak, roughly an hour before Severus’ alarm clock would have rung. The owl had screeched in front of their closed front door for ten minutes when Severus finally let the poor thing in. The memory was still fresh on his mind.

“Shut it up, or I will,” Tobias threatened from the couch where he had collapsed the night before.
In a way, that was the kindest response Severus could have hoped for, especially when it came to a magical bird making a ruckus in the wee hours of the morning while his father suffered from a hangover.
Their relationship was still raw from the revelations the night before, which is why his father probably made the effort to reign in his temper. Which suited Severus just fine.

The school owl bit him hard when it didn’t receive any food. “Fucking lecherous beast!” Severus shooed it away with a bleeding thumb. Thankfully, the red stains on the envelope didn’t press through the parchment.

Severus cursed as the train rumbled over an uneven patch of rail and knocked the pen out of his hand. Frustratedly, he retrieved it in a dive that almost send his head knocking against the seat in front of him when the train made another lurch. He threw a glance at the other passengers around him, all of which seemed engrossed in their own reading. According to the front-article of the Muggle newspaper across the aisle, there had been a huge gas leak on one of the high streets in London which left 13 people dead and 5 unaccounted for in the rubble.
As nobody paid Severus any attention, he got out his OWL results.

He really had been a nerdy kid, hadn’t he? Despite his dreadful performance in the last days of the exam, it was a perfectly respectable record.

He probably would have stuffed the parchment into some drawer until the very end of the holidays out of disinterest if it hadn’t been for Macdonald’s last letter, page three.

Mom was ecstatic about my two Outstandings! She must have thought me too thick to pass anything. How did you do overall? Have you filled out the reply form yet about the classes next year? I’ll definitely take Care of Magical Creatures. Kettleburn never gives us any homework and I scored an E, can you imagine? I think he’s just so in love with his creatures that he doesn’t notice when people are scared of them. I barely touched that knarl during the exam. I love hedgehogs but that thing had evil written right in its beetle-black eyes! Did you get that abomination, too? I’d have loved to get the hippogriff instead. They are so majestic. I’ll take big and deadly always over small and nasty. I really thought I’d lose my finger to that monstrosity! So, will I see you in Kettleburn’s class? I could use a Prince Charming to deal with the critter. I won’t even tell when you chop them up for potions ingredients, promise! (Some of them deserve it, especially that knarl!) What do you say, partner?

The first time around, Severus had continued with every class to keep as many career options on the table as possible. Not having any social life after the fight with Lily had actually granted him enough time to get through the mountains of homework assigned to him.
Severus definitely would choose the low-effort route this time. He was already dreading the experience of being stuck in class for hours on end.

In a way, it was a blessing that he had failed Potions. He could hardly stand Slughorn’s lazy, by-the-book teaching when he was a child, let alone his constant fawning over the rich and the promising. As an adult who – by the way - had taken over the man’s position and later became said man’s headmaster? Just looking at Horace Slughorn got Severus’ blood pulsing in anger.
The man was an inefficient, loud-mouthed brewer and an annoyingly unreliable staff member to boot. Slughorn had barely made the effort to keep the infirmary stocked with pain relief potions despite the Carrows’ continued physical abuse of students. Also, the man didn’t keep an eye on the students as a teacher should in such a volatile environment as a Potions laboratory. There had been far too many accidents and thefts during Slughorn’s time.
Severus had actually proposed to fire the man after some Slytherins poisoned a Halfblood Hufflepuff for fun with stolen goods, but of all things, the Dark Lord forbid it. He would even punish Severus for speaking up against the other man. Maybe the Dark Lord was thankful to Slughorn for placing so many of his followers in good Ministry positions, who knows.

Anyways. Transfiguration, potions and history were out by default. No passing grade, no chance of taking the advanced class.

Macdonald’s rambling about Care for Magical Creatures had merit. Sure, Severus had loathed the class the first time around, as he himself had never desired a pet, and there were hardly any magical creatures in Cokeworth. It’s applicable use was, well, … limited. Even as an adult, he had never had to breed any Bowtruckles, that’s for certain. On the other hand, Kettleburn didn’t assign written homework, and he was generous with grades.
There was also the chance of getting some free potions ingredients, even if Macdonald probably only meant it as a joke.

Defense would be a total waste of time as he himself had taught the subject merely one year ago, and he would definitely die of boredom if not frustration. Typically, Dumbledore only appointed idiots as Defense teachers, since only idiots would be stupid enough to take the cursed position in the first place.
However, taking Defense would give Severus a good excuse to research the Dark Arts in the library.

Charms had always come easy to Severus, as he himself dabbled in crafting spells from first year onwards. There was a big downside, though: Filius was known for assigning lots of homework. While his inner secondary-nature Ravenclaw pouted, his task-oriented mind crossed Charms off his list. He didn’t have the luxury to think about what he himself might enjoy doing. There were lives in the balance. Lives that depended on him to kill the Dark Lord as soon as possible.

Astronomy was another easy choice. Having an excuse for sneaking around after curfew? That definitely would come in handy.

Well, Herbology would get him access to the greenhouses. Stealing ingredients would be necessary for his illicit brewing on the side, so that got a definite check.

Arithmancy – yeah, a hard pass. That subject had kept him up at all hours because it was fiendishly difficult. That Outstanding was the result of barely eating and sleeping in the weeks ahead of the OWLs.

Astronomy, Care of Magical Creatures, Defense against the Dark Arts and Herbology. That was the weirdest combination of subjects Severus had ever seen in his time as a teacher.

Maybe he should start telling people he was aspiring to become a Magizoologist. He could vividly imagine Lily’s baffled face if he told her “Yeah, I just Iove watching and playing with animals. I love it so much I want to devote my life to hatching needy phoenix chicks, dancing with mooncalves and breeding cuddly Nifflers.”

Severus smirked, as he filled out the reply form for the advanced classes. He’d book an owl at Eeylops Owl Emporium to get his choices back to Hogwarts.

***

Severus sat down at one of the tables in the Leaky Cauldron at 11:30 am, and ordered the cheapest meal on the menu, a potato soup. He would meet Avery at 2 pm in front of Borgin and Burkes. Until then, he’d have plenty of time to buy the text books for next year, sell his potions, and book an owl.
Oh, and overhear the conversations around him, of course.

His inner spy rejoiced at the witch’s booming voice from the table on the left. She was discussing the Daily Prophet with her husband. Silently, Severus congratulated himself on picking this spot. Without having to pay, he got all the information he needed.

Apparently, there had been a Death Eater attack on a Muggle high street in London. Well, a gas leak, if you asked the Muggles. The attack left several people dead, and of course, one of them was Professor Cadogan, the most recent Defense teacher at Hogwarts.

Dumbledore really knew how to pick them.

Severus ate slowly and methodically while taking in the hubbub around him. There were nervous families with firsties who had to get their wands and everything. “Oh, Paul,” one woman complained to her husband, “why can’t we just owl-order? It feels so unsafe to be here.”
“My dad’s gonna buy me a broom,” one boy boasted to his group of friends. All of them wore traditional wizarding robes, probably Purebloods.
“So much riffraff in Diagon Alley these days. Look at them – those must be Muggle clothes.”
“That cat witch from Hogy-warts said we can get another currency around here? Can you help us, good sir? My girl is new to this magic-thing.”

“Choose whatever you like.” Severus peaked up as he recognised one of the voices in the inn. Right behind him, Arthur Weasley – young, with hair on top – helped a definitely pregnant Molly Weasley on her seat. “It’s so expensive, though,” the woman whispered almost ashamed. “Is this really in our budget? Are you sure about that promotion?”

Severus was quick to turn away from them. Despite that, it was as if he could not ignore what was happening behind him, now that his ears had picked up the familiar sounds. “Mom, can I have a wand, please? I need to protect my little brothers, after all!”
A red-haired boy ran up to the table, with grubby fingers coated in chocolate. William, Severus’ mind filled him in. Around six years of age. Which made that baby bump … Percy Weasley.
“When you’re eleven. Where’s your brother, anyway?”
“A toy wand, then, pretty please?”
“Oh, Bill,” his mom sighed, but Arthur took over: “You know, what, son? Let’s build a wand ourselves at home. What do you say? We’ll show your mom what us men can do with our own hands.”

The family continued chattering while Severus stared at the pictures on the opposite wall without truly taking in anything as he had turned his attention inwards.
The Weasleys had always been kind to him, even though he had hardly held their trust. Molly, especially, would invite him to stay for dinner at Grimmauld Place. Severus had never accepted. Despite that, she would continue to reach out until he killed Dumbledore and severed all ties to the Order.
His role in Arthur’s survival had been kept a strict secret to protect his position as a spy. Yet, Molly had sent him a batch of cookies each Christmas following that harrowing day her husband almost fell victim to Nagini’s poison. They always came with a Christmas card, too.
Well, not always. He had received one last batch of cookies the Christmas after he had killed Dumbledore and Potter went on the run. At first, he had thought them to be poisoned, but they weren’t. He’d checked.
They had been plain unlike the sugar-coated ones he got the years before. But Molly had sent him a package nonetheless.

When the clock struck noon, Severus called the waiter to his table to pay for his potato soup. He hadn’t planned on it, but he found himself asking quietly: “Do you accept Muggle money?”

The waiter nodded. “Sure, do.”

Severus slid a couple of bills towards the man. “Should be enough for the table with the red-heads, too.”

The waiter raised an eyebrow, looked over his shoulder towards the Weasleys and took in their shabby clothes. Then he put the money into his pocket without a comment.

***

Severus made his way towards Knockturn Alley after he used some more of his dwindling cash to hire an owl for the Hogwarts reply form.

The moment he left Diagon Alley, predatory eyes followed his every movement as he walked down the narrow street. Severus felt somewhat exposed in his Muggle outfit, however, he didn’t have enough money left to buy new school robes first. Originally, he hadn’t planned to go into Knockturn dressed as a Muggle, but needs must. Selling the potions, even if he had to under-value them due to their shady origin, would line his pocket with enough galleons to finance not only his text books, school uniform and trip back to Cokeworth, but also their adventure in Great Hangleton.

Instinctively, Severus held tight on to the straps of his backpack.

There was no real danger of being attacked in the open, even if these wizards thought him Muggle-born. Not yet. Not in 1976. Times were changing, though, as the Dark Lord’s support amongst the wizarding community increased.
Carefully, he navigated through Knockturn Alley, sure to submissively lower his head and step aside when one of the other visitors was on a collision path with him.
The first apothecary was overcrowded as they promised to sell hair-regrowing potion for half the price. Severus passed the shop which definitely was cheating its customers. No way they could offer the potion at that price, especially when it had become illegal to breed house-elves for “parts”. The import fees must be higher than the price tag itself.

When he tried to enter the second apothecary, his hand was almost burnt to a crisp. He noticed the charm just before he touched the door handle. The witch from the counter pointed towards the sign on the door.
No Mudbloods allowed.
Severus backed off.

Frustratedly, he turned towards Borgin and Burkes, one of the few shops in Knockturn without said sign. Apparently, the shopkeepers had recently decided on that campaign.
Damn.
Severus hadn’t known about this obstacle to his plan because in his original timeline, he had fallen out with Lily, and without Mr Evans, he had had no means of travel. So, Severus had arrived without robes or text books at Hogwarts in his sixth year. The teachers hadn’t been amused but they allowed him to stray from the dress code for the first week. Severus had written to Lucius Malfoy, his former prefect, who had lent him some money by owl in exchange for a couple of potions. It had been left unspoken, but Severus had known that his brewing would end up in the Dark Lord’s hands.

***

Borgin and Burkes was empty when Severus entered. He didn’t really scan the shelves and vitrines, instead he sought out the shopkeeper.
“If one had a couple of potions one would like to sell, which address would you recommend?” Severus put his bag on the shopfront and opened the clasp.

Burke was an old, yet shrewd wizard. Severus could see how his brain worked through the steps of their interaction. First, the man scanned the front door for aurors who might have set up a trap. Then he looked over Severus. Now, Burke bent over, seemingly to inspect him better but Severus could tell that he was smelling him for Polyjuice.
“My boy, aren’t you a bit young to sell?”

“I nicked them from the potions cabinet in Hogwarts. How much?”

Burke chuckled as he grabbed two of the flasks and inspected them while waving his wand towards the door. Severus could feel the locking spell rushing past him.

“Horace is a good friend. Good customer, too. Why shouldn’t I tell him that one of his students is a dirty thief?”

“Cause you can’t get Veritaserum this dirt cheap from the apothecary. ‘specially not untraceable.” Severus pointed towards the colorless draught. “No trace marker because Slughorn doesn’t have to. We brewed it in class. For education purpose.”

Burke nodded but the narrowed eyes behind the dirty glasses told Severus that the man had already made that connection the moment Severus mentioned Slughorn.
“I’ll take the Veritaserum and the Amortentia. The Calming Draught you can keep. Don’t have no use for it. My customers look for other … things.”

Severus grimaced but he had expected that when he had to turn away from the apothecaries towards Borgin and Burkes.
“100 for the Veritaserum, 20 for the Amortentia, then?”

Burke laughed in Severus’ face, so that he was hit with some spit: “50 for both.”

That roughly translated into 250 pounds. Severus bit his lip and gambled on his skills as a potioneer. “Check the quality. 80 for both.”

Burke stared in his eyes but apparently, the man didn’t know any Legilimency as Severus couldn’t feel anything. Just a shrewd shopkeeper. Slowly, the man uncorked the Veritaserum, sniffed it …
Please. No residual lavender, please.
Then Burke tipped his finger into the fluid and licked it.

Severus anxiously observed as the man went through the first stage of the draught. Veritaserum made you feel lighter, airier, more willing to cooperate. He could imitate all of that with natural ingredients. He just had to cross his fingers that Burke wouldn’t want to keep his Muggle-clothed self around long enough to wait for the second stage.
“Huh,” the old shopkeeper said. “Well, Horace still got it, although he has been holed up in that castle for years.”

“80, deal?” Severus pushed out his hand.

Burke grabbed the Amortentia, shook it and lifted it to inspect it as well. “75.”

“Why? It’s great quality,” Severus raised the stakes as he could feel the clock ticking. Normally, Veritaserum would reach the second stage in about two minutes. He’d have to be out of here by then.

Burke scowled. “It’s 1976, and the first of July. 76 minus 1 is 75. Take it or leave it.”

Severus felt like rolling his eyes. The man was even more insufferable than his partner who would take over the business after his death. Mr Borgin never had the wits to make jokes like that. “Fine,” he spat and shook Burke’s hand.

On his way out, something in his mind stirred. He couldn’t say what but something … felt off. It wasn’t the date. At least, he didn’t think so. He couldn’t remember July 1, 1976 to be of any remarkable note.

As he turned towards the door, he spotted a cabinet in the back of the shop. It possessed an ominous air, with its pointed top and dark-grey outside. Big enough for an adult.
Severus recognised it instantly, as he himself had worked with Filius and Minerva to get Graham Montague out of its counterpart after the Weasley twins had put him there.
The Vanishing Cabinet was a stark reminder of how vulnerable Hogwarts’ walls actually were.
If the Dark Lord ever found out …

“Something that caught your eye?” Burke asked, apparently smelling business.

Severus turned around as his inner alarm clock told him to get out. NOW. “No, nothing.”

***

Outside, Severus bumped into Avery, and before the boy could even greet him, he dragged him off into a side street. His heart was furiously beating against his ribcage as he threw a glance at the front of Borgin and Burkes.

“Oi, Snape, have you been bitten by a dragon?”

“Just shut up for a second.”

Severus took a deep breath while he spied around the corner. It took only a couple of seconds for Burke to rush outside, rage burning across his face as he interviewed passers-by who pointed in their direction.

“Fuck!” Severus grabbed Avery and dragged him even deeper into the side street.

“The hell, Snape?”

“Run, you idiot!”

***

“What. The hell. Was that?” Avery had bent over from pain in his lungs as he was hardly the sporty type. He wore traditional clothes, which had also hindered his sprint and made him stumble behind Severus.

“I… I thought I saw an auror,” Severus fibbed. He leaned against a brick wall and slid down in exhaustion. “You got the book?”

Avery let out a sigh, then a chuckle. “You’re all business, Snape. Can’t be bothered with small talk, huh? By the way, I am doing great, and I enjoyed the Quidditch yesterday a lot. Thanks for asking. Dad’s over in Diagon. He’ll pick me up later, so until then we can have a look at the newest brooms and eat some ice cream. What do you think?”

Severus looked up at his fellow Death Eater. “The book, Ave,” Severus repeated, suddenly very tired.
Everybody around him was a stupid child and cared about stupid child things.

Avery got the book out of one of his robe pockets and handed it to Severus. “No writing in it,” the boy warned. “I know what your text books look like. My dad is gonna skin me, and after that, he’s gonna skin you. Understood?”

“Perfectly.”

Avery threw a pensive glance backwards, then he helped Severus stand up once again: “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you should get yourself sorted out, Snape. People are getting suspicious. Especially since you hang out with that Mudblood Macdonald. And you’ve been mouthing off a lot.”

Severus clutched Magick Moste Evile while keeping his anger at bay: “Is my opinion less worth than Mulciber’s? Than Macnair’s?”

He enjoyed the embarrassed flush in Avery’s cheeks. “Yes, I mean, no, so … your father …”

“What about him, Ave?”

“You know.” Avery crossed his arms as if to protect himself. “I mean, sure, it’s not your fault. But your mom has sullied herself. And you can’t speak to us Purebloods like that. You can’t! Mulciber’s really mad. He says … he tells everyone in Slytherin that you’re an upstart. You need to be more respectful towards the Purebloods, Snape! Then everything will be okay again.”

Avery was warning him. This was … weird. The boy had never shown any allegiance towards Severus. Had he changed something about his past? Had he caused a rift between the aspiring Death Eaters?

“You should worry about yourself first,” he scolded the boy in a quiet voice. “I doubt you will find your future master to be a kind one.”
Severus turned around and walked towards Diagon Alley when Avery called on him once more: “Yours? Not ours?”

Severus threw a glance over his shoulder. “You’ll get the book back before the end of the holidays. You’ll have to accept, though, that it was touched by a Mudblood.”

“Snape! Snape!” He ignored the calls. “Snape, wait!”

Avery caught up to him and grabbed him by the shoulder. Severus threw off the unwanted touch. “WHAT?”

The mousy boy bit his lip, his eyes dashing from left to right, then back to the left as if he was weighing his options and didn’t know what to do.

“WHAT?”

“Just … maybe don’t go to Diagon yet. Not to the upper part, at least. And not in Muggle clothes.”

Severus froze.
It’s 1976, and the first of July, he could hear Burke state.
Dad’s over in Diagon, Avery’s voice whispered in his ears.
the upper part of Diagon Alley.
Diagon Alley. July 1, 1976.

“You proposed to meet me here today,” Severus realised, grabbing Avery by the collar with both hands, letting Magick Moste Evile fall into the dirt of Knockturn Alley, “because your dad was going to come here, anyway.”

Chapter Text

“The book!” Avery tried to pick up his father’s prized possession to no avail, as Severus pushed him forcefully against the brick wall of the dingy alley. The side street was completely empty, and for the first time, he could see something like fear flicker in the pureblood’s eyes.
“Are you nuts? Let go, Sna-“

“Tell me. What’s the plan?”

Avery bit his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood. “I dunno. I – it’s only Mudbloods. You don’t need to worry. It’s gonna be fine.”

Fine wasn’t the word Severus would choose to describe the massacre that was about to unfold before his very own eyes. The first time around, he had been stuck in Spinner’s End all summer, completely shut off from the magical community. That’s why he had only found out about the attack in Diagon Alley retrospectively through gossip. It had taken two weeks to recover the last bodies from the exploded shop building. The rubble had shifted multiple times, and the ministry had tried to preserve the corpses as much as possible.
In the Slytherin dorm, Severus and his then-friends had made fun of the Aurors who hadn’t managed to prevent such an attack in the middle of Diagon Alley and at daytime, to boot. It had driven home how ridiculously incapable of protecting the wizarding community the ministry actually was. From that day on, mistrust and fear had dominated people’s lives wherever they went until the Dark Lord was banished by Potter.
The terrorist attack on Diagon Alley had been a strategic show of strength.

Severus violently shook the mousy boy by the shoulders. “Which shop?” He couldn’t remember for the life of him. There had been so many atrocities committed by Death Eaters over the years, everything blurred together. “WHICH SHOP ARE THEY TARGETING?”

Avery squeezed his eyes shut. He was trembling all over. “I dunno!” Unshed tears sparkled in his lashes.

“God, you really are a useless waste of space, aren’t you?” He let go of the 15-year-old boy who had paled significantly at the verbal onslaught.
Unlike their fellow Slytherins, Severus had never called out Avery on his failings. He had endured the crying and whining, be it from homesickness, Avery’s constant failing of exams or rejections from girls too pretty for him.
“Not even your father trusts you not to blab.”

“I – I – “

“They’re going to slaughter innocent children. Resenting Muggleborns for rejecting our traditions and values is one thing – but are you really this far gone to deny them the right to life?” Severus hurled his bulky backpack against the wall, barely missing Avery’s head. The boy flinched as if he had been hit. Severus drew his wand and pressed it against the boy’s throat. “If you have one shred of honor left in you,” he ordered, “then go to the next shop and floo-call the Aurors before it’s too late! Now!”

“But – my dad – “

“Oh, believe me,” Severus spat, “the moment I spot your beloved dad, I will fucking kill him. At least they may put him in Azkaban instead! So, Ave, go call the fucking Aurors!”

“I … I can’t.” Avery cradled himself, hugging his own stomach as if he was physically in pain. “Severus, I can’t!”

“You don’t get to call me that. We’re not friends.”
The tears now spilled over Avery’s face as the crybaby did what he did best. Stand around uselessly and feel sorry for himself.
Severus stared at Avery with all the revulsion accumulated over the years of their shared servitude. Not a word would Avery speak in his favour when the Dark Lord questioned Severus’ loyalty on the eve of his return. Instead, it had been Lucius Malfoy who saved him from their master’s rage at the risk of his own life! Twice, Avery would even abandon him during a Death Eater raid when their targets fought back. He was the type of guy that always made others pay the price and take responsibility.
Surprisingly enough, Avery hadn’t named Severus as a fellow Death Eater at his trial before the Wizengamot. But that didn’t make up for years of selfishness.
“If this is who you want to be, then we’re done. I don’t suffer cowards.”

***

Diagon Alley was already in utter chaos when Severus came sprinting from Knockturn.
There were fleeing civilians everywhere. Some knocked him over as they sought refuge in the side street, some clawed at barricaded shop entrances, while others were desperately crawling away from the Death Eaters with eyes widened in fear as spells raced over their heads like stray bullets. Slowly and methodically, the Dark Lord’s followers cleared the area from witnesses and potential enemies.
Above Diagon Alley, the make-shift anti-apparition wards glistened mockingly.

Severus reacted instantly as he saw a black-robed figure take aim at a young man who tried to jump into a shop through the broken windows.
“Stupefy!”
He hit the Death Eater straight in the back, before rushing behind a garbage bin for safety. Around him, spells were criss-crossing in a way that promised accidental death. The shouting, the sizzling of the wild magic, everything rang in his ears until he thought he could not process any more auditory cues. Like a rabbit, he jumped from cover to cover until he found himself past the sweepers and near the centre of the attack.

Around ten Death Eaters had clustered around Scribbulus Writing Implements. They unleashed a firework of curses against the shop front and the already burst store windows, definitely not caring who they might hit or whether the magic rebounded in their direction. The only thing that kept them from storming the building were the chaotic defensive reactions from inside. Their spells were just as unpredictable and dangerous.
“Most of them don’t even have a wand! You’re shaming our master if you cannot even overpower vermin like them!”
“Goyle is down!”
“Should I rennervate -“
“Avada Kedavra! Crucio! Avada Kedavra! Die, Mudbloods! Die!”

Severus jump-rolled behind the next bin. Who knew how long the caught shoppers could withstand the onslaught of curses?
Who knows, his mind supplied darkly, how long those idiots will need to figure out that they didn’t need to kill the shoppers one by one. That it was much more efficient to obliterate the building.

“Get in, boy!”
One courageous civilian tried to drag Severus into Madame Malkin’s, but he pulled himself free to jump behind a tumbled-over café table instead. Something green hit the space he had just occupied, driving the helpful man back into the supposed safety of the shop.

A red spell hit the other end of the table, as two members of the inner circle were now tag-teaming him after the man’s shout had given away his location.

The steps drew closer, and there was nowhere to go. Desperate, Severus grabbed his shoe, threw it to the right, then dived to the left and got rid of one of his pursuers before taking aim at the second one.

Waist-long, white hair flowed around the Death Eater’s mask.
Fuck.

Severus withdrew behind the café table in shock. Lucius Malfoy, definitely not burdened by two decades worth of friendship, sent another Avada Kadavra in his direction.

He could feel how the wood behind his back splintered dangerously.

There were other fights happening around him as some courageous civilians stood up to the Death Eaters instead of running for their lives. Occasionally, those that had sought protection in the shops also fired off hexes through the windows and open doors.
Their side was horribly outnumbered, though.

Severus remained stuck behind the fragile café table, listening under strain to Lucius’ steps.

“Almost didn’t recognise you with these clothes, Snape. Wrong place, wrong time. Get out of here, kid. I won’t stop you, but the others might.”

“You’re going to Avada Kedavra me in the back,” Severus spat.

“I remember your sympathy for our cause despite your unfortunate genetics, so I won’t. Stop wasting my time, though. Off you go, Snape. I’ll collect the debt later.”

Severus refused to move. While his pulse was sky-rocketing, he waited for Lucius to make good on his threat and exterminate him like the vermin the man considered him to be. Severus gripped his wand tightly. Right next to him, the stunned body of the other Death Eater lay on the ground, and his mask had shifted during the fall.
There was no way Lucius would let him go. If the Aurors were to collect his memory testimony, two Death Eaters could be put on trial with hard evidence to ensure their conviction.

Severus didn’t get to find out whether he could overpower Lucius Malfoy in direct combat or not. With a big bang, a cluster of Aurors broke through the apparition barrier and finally appeared in the middle of Diagon Alley.

The air around Severus once more exploded in sizzling spells and protective shields. Both sides gave as good as they got with no one shirking from deadly curses.

Mad-Eye Moody’s booming voice drowned out the chaos: “Drive them away from the shops. Separate them, then down them! Use whatever force is necessary!”

When he heard Lucius’ angry Crucio, Severus seized the moment and sprinted towards Scribbulus Writing Implements, barely protecting himself from the spells of the Aurors and Death Eaters alike.
His mad dash ended with a jump against the door which broke under his force. Wizards were stupid like that – they never considered Muggle means of violence when casting protections.
Ignoring the panicking families who had sought cover behind shelves of ink in all colours of the rainbow, as well as the trembling wands that had defended the shop so far and were now directed at him, he shouted like a maniac: “Out! Out! It’s going to collapse!”

Hellfire broke loose in the shop, as everybody was stumbling towards the back, until the shopkeeper cried out: “Stop! There’s no back-door!”

A salve of spells hit the shop front as the Aurors lost their surprise momentum and the Death Eaters returned to their original formation.
They were running out of time.

Severus raised his wand, directing it at the back wall. Fuck it. “Bombarda at three!” he ordered.

There were about ten men and women, and probably as many children if not more. Only four adults, though, drew their wands, led by one teenager who was the first to comply with a deathly-pale but determined face. Severus couldn’t place him, but he seemed familiar. Probably a fellow Hogwarts student.
Severus gritted his teeth, breathing heavily. He could feel blood running down his wand arm – the shop door had badly splintered at contact.
Why did these idiots bring their Muggle partners to Diagon Alley in this sort of political climate?
Fuck!

Six Bombarda had to be enough. They just had to.

“One. Two.” He swung his wand in sync with the other wizards and witches who seemed just as desperate as him. “Three!”
The hail of Bombardas hit the brick wall, the explosive power forced the structure to bend outwards. Instantly, the roof started to collapse, with some rubble and ash raining down on them as the first floor barely withstood its crumbling support beams. Something sharp hit Severus’ eyebrow, as he was too busy to shield his face. He sent a tripping hex over his shoulder to keep the two Death Eaters outside that tried to follow him indoors. The building shook heavily.

In a frenzy, the people rushed through the jagged gash in the wall, their only escape route. Everybody pushed against each other as if their lives depended on it. Just as Severus jumped through as well, there was a giant explosion from the street side, and the shop was obliterated.

***

***

Severus could only hear a ringing as his ears were still numb from the explosion. The force had blown him away like a wisp of a leaf. Severus hadn’t had any control as he had rolled over the pavement until he came to a stop on his back, with his arms now littered with scratches.
He had a vague notion he should consider himself lucky to not have accidentally split his head open in that blast.
Maybe he should start calling himself the man who just wouldn’t die.

Although he registered movement around him from the saved families, he was too dazed to do anything but stare up into the once blue sky, which was now hidden behind a gigantic dust cloud. Then, a green flash shot upwards, exploded, and the Dark Lord’s mark above them eerily illuminated Diagon Alley in shades of green as the smoky snake crawled around the grotesque skull.
Numb with pain in his back and face and everything, Severus clawed at his unmarked arm until he drew blood with his fingernails. What a day.

The teenager bent over him, definitely shouting going by the rapid movements of his mouth and the worried crease on his forehead. “Will you just leave me alone?” Severus groaned. Everything burned – his lungs, eyes, nose. There was dust everywhere.
Throughout the explosion, he had held onto his wand like a starving orphan to a loaf of bread. Even now, he gripped it tightly.

As the teenager touched his neck, Severus slapped the helping hand away and forced himself on his knees. The mountain of rubble behind them was too high to see how the Aurors fared on the other side, but the jubilant cheers and shouted spells slowly broke through the ringing in his ears. Then, there were at least a dozen apparitions, and Diagon Alley fell unnaturally silent.

It was over.

“- not broken then.”

Severus ignored the boy that was prattling on next to him. Instead, he took in the shell-shocked families around them, who were hugging and huddling together, as they stared at what was left of the shop. The children clung to their parents, some crying, some hysteric.
“I don’t want to go to that school anymore. Please!”
“I am scared! I want to go home! Moooommmyyyyy!”

Severus dragged himself upright, for once accepting the teenager’s helping hand. He ignored the warm fluid that dripped from his eyebrow to focus on the path ahead of them. This narrow back alley, which seemed to be where the shops kept their garbage bins, was a one-way connection to Diagon only twenty metres down the street.

He had to see.

“Are you sure you should be upright already?”

Finally, his ears were free to hear the insistent teenager’s voice. The boy seemed only slightly older than Severus, maybe a seventh-year. He had short, brown hair and a snub nose. The kind of kid who always would have a youthful appearance. There was a shade of a soft stubble, too.

“I’ll lie down when I am dead.” Severus leaned against the neighbouring shop wall when his ankle threatened to give out. Not broken, but definitely sprained. “We need to let people know we survived.”

“Guess so.”

The teenager grabbed Severus’ arm to support him as they walked, well, in his case hobbled towards Diagon Alley.

***

Diagon Alley was a battlefield. There were bodies everywhere; some wore Death Eater robes, some ministry robes, others were just unlucky civilians. Wherever Severus looked, there was rubble from destroyed façades, up-turned bins, benches, and broken chairs from the café around the corner.

The families behind them pushed through, relief overtaking their common sense to make sure that all danger had truly passed. There were also people from the shops flooding the streets to take in the bloody aftermath.
It was utter chaos and almost as bad as when the Death Eaters had attacked. There were bystanders everywhere, corpses, people desperately shouting the names of their loved ones after they had gotten separated during the assault.

The Aurors didn’t interfere with those that apparated away or rushed towards the Leaky Cauldron to escape into London, still busy with collecting their dead, their injured, their captives.

Out of the corner of Severus’ eyes, he spotted Mad-Eye Moody, on two legs, interviewing witnesses and taking in the sheer destruction around them with a grim face.

“I think somebody blew this guy’s face off.” The other teenager sounded as much in awe as sorrow. Severus followed him to the civilian’s side, careful not to put too much weight on his injured leg. The man had been hit by at least three curses, one of them had split his face open and revealed his cheek bone.

There was nothing they could do for the guy. Silently, Severus grabbed the man’s cloak and dragged it over his face.

“That one has the same kind of injury.” The teenager kneeled down next to a fallen Auror. “I think he’s still alive. What kind of spell is that?” The other boy pressed his hands against the wound on the man’s abdomen. “Help me!”

Severus hastily dropped down next to the teenager and added his hands to increase the pressure. However, the blood didn’t stop gushing.
“Hey!” The teenager called out to one of the Aurors who were frantically inspecting the crime scene and assisting the injured. “Your friend needs a healer!”
Nobody paid them any attention as there was too much going on in that part of the street. One civilian even stumbled against Severus who lost the grip on the injury that started gushing once more.

The teenager frenetically muttered healing spells but nothing managed to coagulate the blood fast enough. It just flowed too strongly.

Severus hesitated slightly, before he grabbed his own wand. “Don’t stop!” the other boy cried because nobody was putting pressure on the wound now, but he ignored that. Instead, Severus directed his wand at the groaning Auror’s abdomen: “Vulnera sanentur. Vulnera. Sanentur. Vul. Nera. Sanen. Tur.”
His sing-song was soon accompanied by the teenager who picked up on what he was doing.

Mid-incantation, Severus informed the boy breathlessly: “Imagine you are forcing the walls of the wound together. Don’t focus on healing. Knit the wound together. With force.”

The teenager gritted his teeth as he probably felt the pull on his magic.

“Quite dark,” he whispered while battling to keep up the magic flow into the wound.

Severus didn’t comment as he himself had started another round of incantations. Dark was one way to put it. In effect, all spells that required you to direct your magic into someone were.
He had been born tainted, what, with how easy Legilimency came to him.

Slowly, their magic forced the Auror’s skin to stitch itself together in an ugly but functional scar. Relieved, the other teenager touched the still unconscious body with his forehead as he bent over the passed-out man: “I can’t do this anymore. Today really sucks.”

“It does,” Severus agreed quietly. His eyes wandered across the other bodies strewn around them. Some were moaning, some were shouting in agony.

Then, a wand tip touched Severus’ eyebrow. Instinctively, he froze in panic, but the spell that followed was a meek: “Vulnera sanentur.” Unused to forcing his magic into a person, the teenager had to repeat the incantation two more times.
Then, the boy smiled at him weakly, removing his wand from Severus’ head. “That spell really scars, doesn’t it?”

“I’ll sue you if I don’t win the title of best-looking Slytherin next year.”

The teenager broke into a hysterical chuckle before collecting himself. His hand was still trembling, as he reached out to him over the Auror’s body: “We had a bit of a rushed introduction. Hippocrates Smethwyck. But call me Crato. It’s less pompous.”

Severus shook the hand mechanically from his crouched position, as his first thought escaped his mouth: “The healer?”

The boy seemed unfazed by his blunder. “Yeah, my family’s known for that. It’s not for me, though. I am not that great with blood.”

Severus facial lines softened, now sure of the teenager’s identity. “After today,” he commented kindly, “I think you’ll grow into your name just fine. It’s an honor to meet you. My name’s-”

“Severus Snape. I know.”

There was none of the usual sneering or disregard when people either remembered him for his dark leanings or from his Hogwarts days when the Maurauders left him a laughingstock.
A true Hufflepuff.

Their handshake was short and warm. For a moment, Severus could see the ghost-like memory of himself and a 40-year-old Smethwyck behind them. Their adult-versions shook hands just like they did, but in St. Mungo’s and Dumbledore stood next to him.
They had spent almost the entire Christmas holidays together until they found a cure for Arthur Weasley.
The memory of shared meals in the hospital cafeteria while discussing potions theory, and filling out crossword puzzles while waiting for their umteenth antidote candidate to get to the next brewing stage … it was overwhelmingly nostalgic.
They hadn’t been friends, but spending 24 hours a day together for roughly two weeks in a tiny lab created either a bond or you killed each other.

Teenage Smethwyck let go of his hand, ripping Severus from his memories: “What happened to your shoes, by the way? Not that I am judging.”

Severus broke into a half-hearted smirk, still rattled by the violence and adrenaline rush he had just experienced. “I threw it at a Death Eater. Don’t think he liked it very much, though.”

“Yeah, people usually prefer to have a pair of shoes.”

They shared a grin.

Then, the situation caught up to them, and both of the boys hurried to other victims to see what they could do to help.

***

Smethwyck was white as a sheet because he was pouring too much of his magic into the wounded people around them. Severus, too, felt the strain on his core. Vulnera Sanentur was meant to be a quick fix in a tight situation, not a general healing spell that you would use over and over.

“My turn.” He relieved the Hufflepuff seventh-year from their latest patient. By now, they had developed a routine.

Official healers had joined the scene a couple of minutes ago. Just one more. Severus felt himself become wobbly, as he knitted the torn flesh together that barely kept the leg on the body.

“You’re a monster, you know,” Smethwyck groaned. “How much magic do you possess?”

From his kneeling position, Severus let himself fall on his behind onto the pavement of Diagon Alley and wiped his sleeves over his dusty and sweaty face. “You know what they say about people with big noses.”

He probably was being too familiar with the kid, but he couldn’t rein it in. Their previous lab-banter had completely overtaken him.

Suddenly, a healer rushed to their side and took over the medical assistance. They, too, were looked over but declared healthy. At least, Severus didn’t need to worry about that ankle anymore.

By now, the Aurors controlled the street and wouldn’t let anybody leave without getting their testimony. Together, they walked up to the three guard posts.

“First thing I am going to do at home,” Smethwyck declared, “is bathe. I’ve got other people’s guts on my hands. No idea how mom and dad do this every day.”

Diligently, they gave their names and contact information to the Aurors, as well as a general report of where they had been and what they had seen. Severus, of course, watered down his statement to the point of insignificance. He definitely did not mention Avery, senior or junior, let alone Lucius.

“Quite lucky that you got out of that shop in time,” the bearded, near retirement Auror said, as he signed off their release slips. “That would have been nasty.”

A gruff voice behind them said: “I don’t know if it has so much to do with luck.”
Severus sighed inwards as he could feel a wand tip pointed against his back. Moody continued: “We have some questions for you, kid. Come with me.”

Severus slowly raised his hands, careful to let his wand, which still rested between his fingertips, be taken by Moody from behind.

***

Moody was in an awful mood, that much was certain, as Severus pressed his hand against the cut on his eyebrow. The scar had reopened when the Aurors had thrown him against the table in the interrogation room in the ministry. He had barely registered anything as they apparated him there and led him down the hallway of the Auror department. In his mind, Severus was working through possible scenarios of how this one would go.
He didn’t quite like his odds. Sure, this Moody seemed more stable and he didn't appear crazed about hunting Dark wizards yet. Still, that man was ruthless.
It had been Moody who had single-handedly taken Severus in after the Dark Lord’s fall. He had stepped into Hogwarts and forced him on his knees in front of his students during a Potions class. If Dumbledore hadn’t rushed to the ministry and called in a favour with the minister, that man would probably have killed him mid-interrogation. During his Order days, Moody had hounded him regularly in the hope of catching him doing something illegal. Severus’ occlumency shields hadn’t broken during the interrogation, but Moody had seen his mark when he had stripped Severus naked. From that moment onwards, he had been branded an enemy. For Moody, there was no such thing as redemption. Only a dead Death Eater was a good one.

Present-Moody threw his legs on the table and crossed them while directing his wand at Severus’ face and playing with a strand of his hair.

“Funny,” the Auror commented, tipping the wand against Severus’ bleeding eyebrow, “seems like this Dark spell unravels quite easily with a bit of force. Haven’t seen that one yet. You into researching the Dark, boy?”

Severus remained silent. He was well-versed in being interrogated. When he had been a marked adult, the Aurors hadn’t shied away from using physical pain. His treatment so far was rather benign in comparison.

“Can you guess why you’re here?”

Severus merely glared at Moody across the table while his hands were stuck chained to the table. The metal was scraping against his already sore wrists from the tumble after the explosion.

Moody still had two eyes and two legs but his face was still as grim as if somebody had mauled him recently. There was a glint in his eyes. Severus recognised the predatory quality. This Moody was looking for his first big catch to rise through the ranks of the Aurors.

No wonder he would soon jump at the chance to fight alongside Dumbledore.

Severus made sure to control his breathing. Showing weakness would just make him more interesting to the man.

“So, my friend. What were you doing in the upper part of Diagon Alley?”

“I was … walking.”

“Mr Snape.” Moody started to grin unkindly. “You seem to be … walking … into a lot of trouble, recently.”

Severus blinked, putting a lot of effort into not showing his surprise. How did Moody know about the cat incident in Hogwarts? Nervously, he let his eyes wander over the walls. Was Dumbledore anywhere close by?

“Let me rephrase,” Moody said. “How did you know the building would collapse before it did? Because I was quite impressed by your premonition. All witness statements claim you went in before the Death Eaters were even using exploding spells.”

“It just seemed like a thing evil people would do,” he bit back. “Problem?”

Moody narrowed his eyes. “Do you support You-Know-Who’s ideals?”

“I am a Half-blood.”

“A half-pureblood, yes.”

“And Half-Muggle.” Severus drew his hands back until the metal cut into his wrists. Pain was good. Pain grounded him. Besides, the more pathetic he looked, the easier it would be to get Moody's superiors to order the release of an injured minor. “Look. Are you accusing me of something or is this just discrimination against Slytherin? You didn’t take in Smethwyck who also performed underaged magic and the same spell as me in this emergency situation.”

“Is it discrimination when you lot usually are the criminals we’re looking for?” Moody got something from his pocket, then he smashed a satchel of coins on the table, directly between Severus’ chained hands. “How did these 75 galleons find their way into your jacket?”

Severus couldn’t keep himself from looking up into Moody’s eyes in alarm. He had forgotten about that!

Moody smirked. “Found it while walking around Diagon Alley?” he sneered.

Out of spite, Severus almost agreed. “I … I borrowed some money from a friend.”

“Name.”

“… Avery.”

Moody broke out in a nasty grin, swinging his legs back from the table to the floor as he circled Severus who could not follow his every movement with his head, chained as he was to the table. He hated how the man breathed down his neck. “Funny. Mr Avery did not mention that in his statement.”

“His … what?”
Severus froze.

Moody’s hands clamped down on Severus’ shoulders as if he was a supportive father figure. The way his fingernails pressed down felt deadly. Severus held his breath as Moody’s mouth got close enough to his ear to whisper: “Did you not wonder how we broke that damn barrier? Let’s say we got a tip-off.”

The apparitions! Severus closed his eyes in just as much pain as relief. Of course. Originally, the Aurors hadn’t arrived in time.

This was… potentially very bad. The future was changing, and he was losing control. Severus started to sweat as panic blubbered up in his chest.
Informing the Aurors about an attack was one thing. Knowing details like how to break the anti-apparition barrier? Avery, you stupid idiot! You outed yourself as dark.

“I sold potions that I stole at Hogwarts,” Severus admitted quickly. Definitely the lesser evil. “That’s how I got the money. Avery and I aren’t friends.”

“Even more curious,” Moody drawled while rumbling through his uniform pocket and slapping piece of evidence on the table. “seeing as that your not-friend asked me to hand this to you because he won’t get out of protective custody for some time.”

Severus paled as he stared at Magick Moste Evile.
There really was nothing to be said.

Moody’s hands left his shoulders after squeezing them once. “I had quite an interesting floo-call with your headmaster before joining you down here. You seem to get into a lot of trouble. Albus isn’t sure whether you attract it or cause it.”
Yeah. There was a bit of a shady overlap.
The auror once again sat down and faced him with a stern face. “Let’s start over, this time with less lying. What were you doing in Diagon Alley?”

Severus took a deep breath before facing Moody head-on. “I was walking.”

***

Moody’s face resembled a storm cloud when Severus walked out of the interrogation room 22 hours later, Magick Moste Evile and 75 galleons in hand.

“I know you’re involved,” the man growled. “Just because there’s no evidence doesn’t mean you’re innocent.”

The two Aurors who kept Severus in their midst frowned at their colleague’s enraged ranting but did not comment. Instead, they led him out of the department as quickly as possible.

“Where can we drop you off, kid?” the younger one asked once they stood in the ministry entrance hall.

Severus felt nauseated from dehydration and hunger. He held tightly onto his possessions, knowing fully well that he had gotten himself on Moody’s watchlist.

He felt like control had been taken from him. It unsettled him more than the violence he had experienced the day before. “I can manage on my own,” he bit back.

“Fine with us.” The older of the two Aurors grunted. “Don’t leave the country. We might need you again sometime soon for the investigation into the attack in Diagon.”

Then, the Auror went back towards the elevators. The younger one, though, hesitated. “You don’t look good,” he commented with an insecure bite on his lip. Apparently, it was a bad habit. There were purple marks on his lips. “You know, Liam’s usually my partner, not Alphard. You and that other kid, you saved him. Thanks to you, he’ll live to see his kid be born.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

The Auror sighed while holding his arm out in an invitation. “I mean it. Thanks. Aren’t you Slytherin? Take advantage and tell me where you want to go.”

Home. Home would be great. Take me to Hogwarts, 20 years into the future, please.
Severus sighed. Macdonald would probably laugh her head off once she saw how battered he was. “Can you spell me clean, first, though? I don’t want my girlfriend’s mom to think I slept in a gutter.”

Chapter Text

Once the friendly Auror had apparated him to the familiar apartment complex in Oxford, Severus took the elevator up to the third floor. During the ride, he studied his face in the mirrors that covered the walls of the cabin. The young Auror had kept his promise and vanished the bloodstains, however, there was quite a bruise forming around the cut on his right eyebrow. Nervously, he pulled some strands of hair over the injury.

That was one scar Severus hadn’t originally had. He wasn’t too sure how he felt about it. Severus definitely wasn’t the vain type – it was a slight change, true, but this person in the mirror didn’t look like him anymore.

When he squinted, he could make out the cut behind the curtain of black hair. He rubbed the spot as if it would come off if he just put more effort into it. Of course, nothing happened other than that the cut stung in protest of the harsh treatment.

Then, the elevator dinged as it arrived on the third floor.

Severus breathed out his worries, putting the emotions connected to the Diagon Alley attack firmly behind his Occlumency shields. In the long run, what did a small scar matter? Besides, he should count himself lucky to have gotten away with such a benign injury considering the slaughter he had lived through in Diagon Alley. Severus had no clue which of his actions had led Avery to alert the Aurors, but it had saved lives. For now, Severus had to compartmentalize and blend out the issue that he might have gotten Avery into deep trouble with the Dark crowd. Whatever happened to the boy would be his fault, no doubt. Right now, caring about Avery’s fate was a luxury he could not afford.

He did owe the boy, though. For whatever reason, Avery had not only convinced the Aurors to hand him the dark spell book but also to return his backpack. The boy must have picked it up from where Severus had discarded it in anger before rushing off to stop the attack in Diagon. Thankfully, there had been nothing incriminating in the bag by the time the Aurors got their hands on Severus’ belongings. Unfortunately, the potion flasks had shattered at some point. His mother’s wand was sticky, now, and the last of the poker prize money had also been drenched in the fake Calming Draught.

Before approaching the fourth apartment on the right, Severus checked for the final time that Magick Moste Evile was well-covered by his jacket which he had wrapped around the book to protect it from the remnants of the draught in the backpack.

***

“We don’t buy –“
Mrs Macdonald’s eyes became comically wide as she found him standing in front of their door. He probably looked ready to move in with his shabby bag and crumpled clothes. He still didn’t even wear a second shoe. “Severus!”

“Good morning, Mrs Macdonald. Is Mary in?”

The door instantly opened in a silent invitation. In the hallway, Severus pulled off his remaining shoe but held onto his backpack tightly.

“Did… something happen to you?”

He cleared his throat and focussed on their cover story: “I am sorry for my … disheveled appearance. There was no time to get changed. I went to London early to stay overnight at the Leaky Cauldron, so that I would make the train for the class trip tomorrow morning. There really aren’t any good connections from Cokeworth to London as you know. That’s why I was caught up in the attack on Diagon, and everything’s quite chaotic down there. I hope –“

“An attack on Diagon? Was it Death Eaters?” The woman bit her lip and held the kitchen cloth in front of her in a protective stance. Her fingers seemed to need something to keep themselves busy. “Did anybody die?”

“I am afraid so,” he admitted with a grim face. “The Ministry has secured Diagon Alley but … may I stay the night and go to King’s Cross with you tomorrow? I don’t feel safe at the Leaky Cauldron.”

Her face was haunted by worry lines as she nodded, a grave bleakness in her eyes. “Of course! Oh my, have you even had time to call your father yet to tell him you are alive? And your clothes… oh …. Maybe my husband’s will fit”, her gaze flickered over his backpack which seemingly was deemed unfit to house enough for a weekend trip to the beach, “and we can go buy a pair of shoes tomorrow morning, too. And sunscreen, you will need that! You should say hello to Mary, first, though, before you call your dad. She’s in her room. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Severus smiled embarrassed. “Sadly, no. May I join you?”

***

When Severus entered Macdonald’s room, which was covered in posters of bands on the walls and had stuffed toy animals sitting on top of the bookcases, he caught her in the middle of her preparations for the Hangleton trip. The suitcase was half-filled and rested on the bed.

“Snape! You look like a hobo! What are you even –“

“I got caught up in the attack in Diagon.”

“The WHAT?”

“Don’t you get the Prophet?” he asked as he closed the door. “Death Eaters blew up a shop full of Halfbloods and Muggleborns. I don’t know the death count but the Aurors intervened just in time to prevent a real massacre.”

Her face lost all colour. “Don’t tell mom.” Her tone was urgent. “She won’t let me return to Hogwarts.”

“Too late for that. Besides, she needs to know.” He lowered his voice even more. “Things are spinning out of control, Macdonald. I recognised one of the Death Eaters when I fought back. There is … a chance I might become a target. And everyone connected to me.”

“How likely?” She bit her lip.

Lucius Malfoy would not be above killing an innocent Muggle to send Severus a message.

“As long as I keep my mouth shut … which I will … fifty-fifty, maybe.” He walked towards the window and looked down on the small strip of green between the parking lot and the main road. Some mothers were playing with their children near the wooden swings. “I didn’t want to alarm your mother any more, but the attack happened yesterday, not today as I led her to believe. The Aurors kept me back for interrogation. I didn’t break, and I am hopeful that word got out to … this person … that I didn’t mention anything of value. They’re well-connected at the ministry. I can’t go home for now, though. I can’t endanger my father or Lily’s family like that. They’re Muggles. I have to settle the matter with this person as soon as possible.”

“Will a letter reach them? I don’t have an owl and we’re not connected to the floo network either.”

Severus snorted when faced with her pragmatism. “You’re not angry I am knowingly endangering your family instead?”

Macdonald didn’t smile but there was also no anger in her eyes. Only grim determination. “I understand priorities. If I had to, I would also choose Lily over you. And I would choose my mom over Lily every time. You made your decision, and there’s no use crying over spilled milk. You’re here now. Can you resolve the matter with a Muggle letter?”

Severus exhaled slowly, rubbing the hidden cut on his eyebrow. “It would never reach that person, but I could send a letter to Eeylops and book one of their owls. That’ll take about two days for the Royal Mail to deliver the message to the Leaky Cauldron, and then one day of processing in Diagon Alley. I think that’s the best we can do. That’s three days of uncertainty, all of which we both will be out of reach in Great Hangleton.”

Mary sighed but went to her desk and took out a quill and parchment. “I suppose we’ll have to brainstorm some phrases so that you sound properly submissive, right?”

“That would be most helpful.”

He sat down and took up the quill, pondering on how to keep this message as anonymous as possible.

“Who is it, anyway? Mulciber?” She sounded almost hopeful. “Avery? Macnair?” Then she added quietly: “Couldn’t you work something out with the Aurors and get them locked up?”

Severus shook his head as he got himself in a grovelling mindset to appeal to Lucius’ inflated Pureblood-ego. “Believe me: My word is dirt in comparison to his. You know that society doesn’t look kindly on Halfbloods that try to rise above their station.”

***

During dinner, Severus quietly enjoyed the home-made lasagna, while Macdonald was arguing with her mother about the safety of Hogwarts.

“Dumbledore is, like, You-Know-Who’s worst enemy. If there’s one place that’s safe, it’s Hogwarts, mom!”

“I just worry,” the woman explained frustratedly. “Come September, you’ll again leave for your magical world in which I can’t follow. I … I am not even sure Hogwarts would inform a Muggle like me if something were to happen to you.”

“McGonagall definitely would!” Macdonald raised her fork as if she thought it would help her make the point. “Besides, the Ministry’s fighting back. You-Know-Who hasn’t achieved jackshit so far! Muggleborns still go to Hogwarts, people still marry who they love, and there are even groups forming against his indoctrination.”

Severus lowered his eyes to his plate full of lasagna. Fear always had a higher capacity of spreading than courage. Soon, the Dark Lord would start targeting politicians and civilians alike. Nobody would feel save in their own homes, and speaking up against Pureblood agendas publicly would become a veritable Death sentence no matter whether you were a mere housewife or an aspiring Ministry official.

Before Mrs Macdonald could reprimand her daughter for her crude language, an owl crashed against the closed window. With an outraged hoot, it started circling between the kitchen and the living room, ramming itself against the glass over and over.

Hastily, Mrs Macdonald opened the kitchen window. “Oh, you daft thing! Don’t spill your brains!”

The brown fluffball landed on the dining table, its triangle-shaped ears peaking up as it turned its head between all three occupants. The bird’s tail feather hit a glass, throwing it to the floor. Then the owl bobbed its head while shrieking.

Severus grabbed the thing before it could ruin dinner any further. The owl wiggled like crazy but it didn’t bite him. Instead, it reminded him of an over-excited toddler, what, with the flapping and head-shaking.

“Letter,” he commanded, but the owl didn’t stretch out her leg. Instead, it flapped its wings until he dropped it when one strike connected, before it jumped back up on his arm and tried to climb him like a tree.

Mary came to his help, and together they managed to immobilize the moronic bird. “Get the letter!” she cried.

Severus wrung the parchment out of the bird’s talons before releasing the owl. With a sad face, it started hooting, reaching an ear-crushing level that got them an angry shout from the neighbours.

“Throw it out!” Severus suggested, and Mary complied. The owl remained seated on the outside window sill and looked inside with a bone-crushingly depressed look. Every couple of seconds, there would be a peck against the glass.

“What. Was. That?” Mary asked in utter shock.

“Apparently,” Severus answered after reading the short message, “her name’s Diva.”

“Yeah,” Macdonald frowned as her mother was busy cleaning the mess, “I can see why it’s called that. I dread to ask but … is the owl for you or me? Because just considering that someone I know would keep such a bird is scary.”

Severus slid the message into Macdonald’s hand. “Just a quick thank-you from a friend I met in Diagon.”

She scanned the short lines, then seemed even more confused than before: “What does he mean by I thought you might prefer a pair of shoes?”

Severus chuckled, then he opened the window, blocking the hyperactive owl from coming in again: “You. Did you by any chance lose a package when you crashed into the window the first time?”

The owl blinked, then put her head on the side as if it was thinking. Suddenly, it hooted in alarm before diving down to the ground before the apartment complex.

Not even ten seconds later, it once again crashed into the glass of the half-open window. Thankfully, Severus was quick enough to catch it, lest it drop the package a second time.
Overly happy with itself, Diva started love-biting Severus’ hand before he shooed the thing back to the window sill.

“You,” he proclaimed, “are a menace that only a Hufflepuff would endure.”

The owl shrieked, absolutely ecstatic about the successful delivery and too stupid to read the mood in the room.

“Leave!” Mrs Macdonald demanded from the owl as she was still sweeping together the shards of glass on the floor.

The bird hopped up and down on the window sill like a maniac, her eyes focussing on Severus as if he was prey.

“Oh for god’s sake!” He grabbed Crato’s note and a pen, then wrote a quick Your bird is a nutter, don’t ever send it back before throwing the piece of paper out the window and telling the bird: “Deliver that!”

Diva dived after the paper with a happy shriek, then she disappeared between the apartment complexes.

“Sometimes, I really hate magic,” Mrs Macdonald mumbled, removing the food to the kitchen. The owl had strategically sat down on the plate of lasagna.

“Me too,” both teenagers replied in sync.

Then, Severus opened the package, revealing a harmless pair of black Muggle trainers. Incredibly, they were only a half-size off. Severus noticed a little tag and opened it: “Now you have to think of me when you run into trouble :) “

Severus rolled his eyes fondly before placing the shoes in the hallway, ready for use tomorrow.

***

***

The inn in Little Hangleton was a dump, and Severus meant that in a nice way. There were far worse things he could be calling this … accommodation.

“Where did you find this place? In a magazine for crime scenes?” he whispered as the owner led them upstairs. The walls were covered in the heads of dead animals.

Macdonald hushed him with a red face as the old woman halted two steps above them.

“Everything alright, love?” Her voice resembled a frog’s croak. Even now, there was a lit cigarette between her fingers. Severus eyed the smoke-detector-free ceiling sceptically.

“My brother was just saying he absolutely adores this interior design.”

Her teeth were yellow. “Thank you. My Dan was a brilliant shooter. Just look at the size of these antlers. Dragging that darn stag back to the village was his proudest moment.”

Severus itched just from glancing at these moth-infested carcasses on the walls. “Fascinating.”

He could tell that next to him, Mary was shaking from keeping that chuckle in. He prepared himself for the parasites he would catch staying under this roof, as he followed the innkeeper to their doom.

***

“I think she’s lovely.”

Severus could hear Macdonald’s grin behind his back. Methodically, he put his clothes into the wardrobe. “She reminds me of a banshee.”

“Oh, come off it. You’ve been in a right mood since breakfast.”

“We’re not on holiday.”

There was a squeak as Macdonald threw herself on the ancient double-bed. “I sure hope not. There’s literally nothing to sightsee other than the graveyard, the woods where they hanged the witches during the Middle Ages, and the Haunted Manor. Believe me. I’ve studied the tour guide in and out.”

His hands, which pulled out his belongings one after another from the backpack, met the edges of Magick Moste Evile. Carefully, he stuffed it deeper down, pulling one of Magnus Macdonald’s shirts over it for added security, and threw the bag under his side of the bed. Then, he glanced around. The room was bare; there wasn’t even a chair, let alone a desk. Just a wardrobe, a bed, an adjacent bath. There were cobwebs all over the ceiling corners.
At least this horrendous death trap came cheap.

“It’ll do,” he begrudgingly praised Macdonald’s efforts to organise their trip to Great Hangleton. “Let’s get take-out, though. I really don’t trust that woman to have a hygiene concept for the kitchen.”

“Take-out?” Mary giggled. “There’s like one bar down the road, and that’s it. Unless you want to walk across the meadow to Great Hangleton in the dark. They may have a supermarket. Or a gas station.”

Severus sighed. “I guess I shouldn’t have told you that we were on a low budget. You took saving money too far. Is there even a bus during the day, or will we hike from place to place?”

“Oh, there is one. One in the morning … and one in the afternoon.” She smiled angelically.

***

During dinner, the widowed innkeeper kept chatting with Macdonald, which suited Severus just fine. The food was tolerable, as it resembled canned ravioli in tomato sauce in taste and smell. He wasn’t a picky eater, anyway – as a child, he had never had the freedom to reject anything as food was a scarce commodity in Spinner’s End.
He could do without the dead animals staring at him while he was chewing, though. The walls of the living room were also covered in hunter trophies.

Macdonald was yapping about the bird-watching they were supposedly on holiday for. She really was bad at cover-stories – Severus hadn’t learned his lesson from the Lily debacle yet, apparently, or he would have shut her up the moment the innkeeper asked for their reason for coming to Little Hangleton.

Silently, he watched how lively the girl gesticulated with her hands as she talked about different owl types and their behavioural quirks. Meanwhile, the innkeeper waxed about how one stuffed dead birds best.

Was it weird that he felt like everybody around him was mad and he was the only normal person who thought this was not appropriate for dinner conversation?

Fondly, he watched Macdonald share bird stories which seemed to be based on experiences in Hogwarts. He recognised some of her bent truths, like the majestic eagle who would bow before her as if it invited her to ride it. Definitely a Hippogriff.

In his previous life, Severus would have never found himself at the same table as Macdonald. How had he felt when he found out about her suicide? Severus couldn’t remember. He probably shrugged it off or shared a laugh with the other Slytherins. They would have said something like “one less Halfblood to cull. Seems like the trash is learning its lesson.” Right now, though … she would leave a Macdonald-shaped hole if she were to disappear.

“- and then, the owl attacked his head, and her claws got stuck in Severus’ hair. He was screaming in pain, and he couldn’t get rid of the thing! It tore out quite a patch of hair. Then, he fell down from the tree and actually broke his leg! Bird-watching is much more dangerous than hunting, you see! You need real courage for it,” Mary closed her latest story.

“If you’ll excuse me.” Severus abruptly rose from the table, so that his knife and fork hit the plate. He pressed his lips together to keep himself from snapping.

“Everything okay?”

He pushed the hand away that moved towards him. Macdonald seemed a bit concerned but mostly confused.

She was a child, he reminded himself. Just a stupid child. “It’s time for me to go to bed.”

A few minutes after he pulled the blanket over himself, Macdonald entered their shared room. She moved quietly in the dark, until she stumbled over her own backpack. “Fucking hell, damnit, to hell!” She started jumping up and down, rubbing her foot

He didn’t move to turn on the lights despite the fact that there was a switch next to his bedside table.

Finally, there was a dip on the other side of the bed, as well as cloth being pulled up. Severus closed his eyes and willed himself to ignore the movement. For a moment, he was afraid his body would betray him. While he didn’t desire a girl like Macdonald in spirit, he wasn’t so sure about being in control of his teenager hormones when it came to physical proximity.

As Macdonald got comfortable on the bed, Severus remained steadfast in his decision to turn his back to her. There was hardly any danger coming from him, and while it sort of hurt his manly pride that she seemed to agree on that point as she had booked a room for two to save money, he knew that there was still the chance of triggering her by accident.

“Are you angry at me?”

He tried to fake a slow breathing rhythm.

“…Is it because of the bird story?”

“Can’t you tell I am trying not to snap at you?” Severus buried his face in his pillow. It smelled musty.

“We won’t ever see her again after the weekend. So what does it matter if you sounded a bit lame to her?”

A bit lame?
That had been a magic-less, watered-down version of Potter attacking him with Oppugno to the point that he fell down a whole set of stairs at Hogwarts. He had had to take a dose of Skele-Gro since his leg had been shattered.
Severus turned around angrily, staring into the darkness in which he could barely make out her shadow. “You may find that story funny, but to me, it really wasn’t.”

There was nothing but silence until Macdonald’s voice broke through the darkness once more. “You do realise why Potter always targets you, right?”

It’s the fact that he exists.
Potter’s words haunted him way past his teenager days, forging his path towards an unhappy adulthood all the same.
“Oh, spare me that rant about how it’s my own fault because I just couldn’t accept to be the butt of a joke and always fought back with dark spells. How I should have just taken it like a man.”

“That’s not what I mean.” There was some rustling on her side of the bed as she drew closer to the middle. He could feel her warmth, and if he squinted, there was a hand almost reached out like in friendship near his pillow. “I mean the real reason. It’s sort of funny, so I thought you might be able to smirk about Potter’s insecure behaviour even if his pranks go too far and get you hurt.”

“The real reason?” He probably couldn’t sound more dubious.

“’Cause he feels inferior to you.”

Severus snorted. “Yeah, the others are right. You, my love, are blind.”

“No.” She was indignant and sat up in bed, her silhouette was now illuminated by the weak moonlight. “Don’t tell me you never saw the resemblance? You both have unruly black hair, you are built tall and rather slender. You both fulfil the same physical type, so he considers you competition. Sure, he’s not as light-skinned as you, but without the Quidditch hours in the sun, he’d be pale, too. And yeah, you’ve got a bit of nose issue. Potter, though, he’s blind as a mole without those glasses, and I don’t know who told him they looked good on his face, because they don’t. That squint he has got going would not look any prettier on a little baby girl than your nose, I can tell you.”

Severus scoffed, but Macdonald didn’t let him get a word in: “Potter just carries himself with more confidence. You tend to skulk in the shadows as if there was something you yourself were ashamed of, so everyone automatically thinks there must be something wrong with you. That’s why he’s the guy a girl would prefer to show to their parents if they had to choose between you two.”

Severus kept silent.

“He’s the financially secure, socially acceptable and boring match. You’re the more exciting decision. Socially totally inacceptable but you might actually listen to what your partner is saying to you since your head is not full of yourself. If you’re not in a snit, that is.”

“Just stop talking.”

“He’s the guy you marry. You’re the guy girls would keep on the side to fu-“

“ENOUGH.” Severus instantly turned his back on her as he was so done with the topic. Had been done with that topic exactly 18 years ago when Lily married James bloody Potter despite the fact that she knew him to be a bully.
Sometimes, Severus had secretly wished James Potter alive to see what kind of disappointment his dear son had turned out to be. A socially awkward, not particularly intelligent, not even remotely talented wizard who wore clothes almost as ill-fitting as Severus’ during their first year.
He would have made an awful father. The kind that would drop their kid the moment they didn’t turn out like they were supposed to.
Severus was all too familiar with fathers like this.
It had irked him whenever that stupid brat would ramble about the greatness of James Potter, completely unaware of how lucky he was not to have suffered the man’s indignation.

“Go to sleep, Macdonald,” he whispered unkindly, meaning to hurt her with every syllable to protect his sore soul. “Unless you want me to molest you since you seem so focused on my sexual prowess.”

There was a shocked silence.

He swallowed, knowing that he had let his feelings run amok. He pressed his eyes closed in shame. “Sorry.”

“That's what makes you ugly, Snape, not your nose,” was her quiet answer. “Honestly. Stop pushing people away when you’re hurting and just tell them how you feel. Someone with more self-respect than me might not accept that muttered sorry.”

Her words hit home despite not being voiced in a cutting way.
That’s what had happened with Lily. He’d said the M-word. She’d cut him off in her injured pride as if there had not been years of friendship.

He exhaled his anger, his past. All that remained was crushing shame. “Just… Good night, Macdonald.”

***

When Severus woke, the sun wasn’t up yet and Macdonald was still fast asleep on her side of the bed. In the first sunlight that hit the windows, she seemed incredibly innocent and young. There was no crease on her face, and her cheeks hadn’t yet lost the last of the child-chubbiness. It made Severus uncomfortable to think about the fact that in his timeline, she never got to the age where she would settle into her features.
Teenagers were horrible creatures, as their bodies morphed into their future version day by day. He himself had fought a losing battle with his voice between the age of 14 and 16. It had been somewhat satisfying when Potter and Black sprouted zits to disfigure them, too, just as much as his genes did with himself.

it was funny how you forgot about the physical struggles once you accepted your new body. It was the emotions, though, that just wouldn’t settle. Severus wondered if he was broken like that or if all people suffered this defect. He never felt like a boy again after he stopped growing, after he started shaving, after getting his voice. But when Dumbledore introduced Lupin as the next Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, it all had come back as if he expected those four Gryffindors to jump him from around the corner. The entire year of Lupin’s teaching, he had felt insecure in his actions, his words. As if they could be used against him once more.

Macdonald, too, was still mid-transformation into a refined woman. Her chest had already fully developed, her hips hadn’t yet. Now that he knew her mother, he could see where biology was taking her. In a year or two, Macdonald’s cheekbones would be more pronounced as well.
She was pretty in the wallflower kind of way. Not in the mesmerizing, full of life way like Lily. Lily dominated the room she entered and drew everybody’s eyes with her fiery hair and jungle-green eyes. She was outspoken, courageous, witty. Everyone paled in comparison to her.

Macdonald was the most loyal person he knew, though. He could see her mother in her – the woman who visited her comatose husband every second day and carried the strength in her to give her daughter a warm, secure home despite the uncertainty in her own life.

Deep in thought, Severus put his arm over the edge of the bed and fished for his backpack. After some feeling around, his fingers got a hold of Magick Moste Evile.

The sunlight was still weak but he opened the book nonetheless and held it over his head while studying the pages lying down. He worked his way through the horrible Middle English sentence structure in the chapter on life-prolonging methods.
Then, he found it.
It wasn’t much but he instantly had the impression that this … was it.

Of the Horcrux, wickedest of magical inventions, we shall not speak nor give direction –”

Thank you, that was spectacularly unhelpful and a waste of ink and paper. Frustrated, he let the book drop on his head.

He sighed whole-heartedly, his eyes still covered by the book. It smelled like mouldy paper and smoke. Then, he opened it once more and stared at the page.
Horcrux.
At least he had a name.

His knowledge of Middle English did not really help, as the word roughly translated to container of evil. Well, did the caster become a container for evil or did one spell something into a container? Unclear.

His memories swirled aimlessly until he remembered that the Dark Lord had drunk Unicorn blood in Potter’s first year to keep him alive. Could a Horcrux be neither a person or an object but a beast with magical properties to prolong one’s life? A beast could be a magical invention, right? Sort of. Maybe.

Annoyed, he opened the first chapter of the book in which the author tediously bragged about his own life achievements. Some yadda yadda about having a wand made of Elder. Who even cared about wand wood unless you were a gullible fool who also believed in divination?

His own was made of Acacia, and he still remembered the endless prattle Ollivander gave him about how these wands usually didn’t like people - Severus could empathise - and refuse to cooperate with users who weren’t their owners as Acacia wands were often ill-tempered. Sure, the wand always had worked for him … but so has his mother’s and the wands he stole from others. So who gave a damn about wand lore? It sounded just as fact-oriented as divination to him.

What was his mom’s wand even made of? Chipboard, by the feel of it. Severus snorted while leafing through the boring chapter on Godelot.

The Dark Lord had also been obsessed with a wand made of Elder. Go figure that he would believe not only in prophecies but also in wand lore. Severus rubbed his neck as he remembered the chilling death sentence: The Elder Wand cannot serve me properly because I am not its true master. The Elder Wand belongs to the wizard who killed its last master.”

Yeah, thanks Dumbledore.
Severus still held a grudge about that. Hadn’t he been true and loyal to Dumbledore for over a decade? Yet, the man had sentenced him to death without even telling him. Severus had no doubt in his mind that Dumbledore had planned from the very beginning that the Dark Lord would mistakenly kill him in his quest for Dumbledore’s wand. Why else had the man’s last will insisted on having the wand buried with him in that tomb? He must have known about the Dark Lord’s obsession with getting his biggest rival’s wand as a trophy.

And Severus had ended up a pawn in their game. What a surprise.

He closed the book and hit it against his forehead, muttering: “God, I am too stupid for this.”
He was missing some key information, and it was frustrating as hell.

***

After breakfast, Severus followed Macdonald towards Great Hangleton. As she had organised the trip, she had acquainted herself with the region. At first, he was sceptical about following her path which ran in the opposite direction of the main road, but the small hiking trail had led them past meadows full of cattle and towards the outreach of a bigger village with a population of maybe a thousand or two-thousand people.

“So, where’s the local council?”

Mary pointed towards an old building in the centre of the village. It had a belltower which probably had been used in the past to warn the nearby villages of fire and bomber planes during the war. There was quite a commotion on the main road as it was market day.

“Alright. I suppose we won’t be birdkeepers when we talk to them?”

“Best to play school children interested in their ancestry. People in the countryside love the back-to-the-roots thing.”

He shrugged. “Guess that makes me Severus Riddle, then?”

Mary grimaced. “Try Sebastian. They all had proper English names, after all.” She inspected him from all sides, then grabbed his hair as she had done on the train. “I am not sure if it looks better tied together or open.”

Severus drawled: “When you’ve decided, do tell me. I am so looking forward to your fashion tips.” He pulled his head back until she released the strands. The touch made him uncomfortable, as his hair usually didn’t feel nice, just stringy. “Do you think they’re going to buy it?” He was more than sceptical. He didn’t really pull off the noble looks one would expect with such a prestigious family.

She shrugged. “What’s the harm in trying? It’s not like they can prove you’re not Merope’s Riddle’s grand-son who is looking for his long-lost family, now having been orphaned at such a young age and being all so sad. You just wish there was someone left in this world to connect with. And maybe they can point you in the right direction. Pretty please.”

Severus sighed. She really had a flair for the overly-dramatic. “You tell the sob-story. I’ll try not to laugh.”

There was a roaring roll of thunder in the background, as the black clouds that hung over the valley since morning moved ever closer, threatening to engulf Severus and Macdonald in the darkness of the storm that was about to unleash over Hangleton.
Severus glanced upwards with a worried crease on his forehead before they entered the council hall.

Chapter Text

The first raindrops hit Severus square in the face when they left the council hall about half an hour later.
The receptionist had been somewhat suspicious at first, but had warmed to the idea of helping them quite quickly after hearing his pathetic sob-story. Macdonald had a way of worming herself into people’s hearts. It probably was the total-do-gooder appearance and earnest look in her eyes. As it was Saturday, there wasn’t anybody in the offices they could talk to, however, the receptionist, who had grown up in the area herself, was quick to point them to Little Hangleton, of all places.

“I can’t believe it’s been right under our noses,” Severus commented lightly. Side by side, they remained rooted under the tiny glass roof that protected the entrance from the pouring rain.

“Well, sometimes even we have to get lucky. Bend over. I’ll sketch out our route on the map.”

Dutifully, Severus let Macdonald put the map on his back. He could feel her circle the Riddle manor as well as the graveyard. Then, she drew a line, probably connecting their points of interests with the inn and their current location.

“Their sudden deaths without any injury sounded really suspicious, don’t you think?”

“As if the Riddles found an abrupt end in a green lightning?” Severus eyed their surroundings from his lowered position. The rain had forced most market stand owners to close early, since only few dared to walk through the rain which was carried sideways by the wind and circumvented the umbrellas some held close over their heads.

“That was my train of thought, too.”

She thumbed twice on his back, so Severus straightened out. Macdonald handed the map to him, pointing at the route she had drawn. “We’re here, at the centre of Great Hangleton. This morning, we took the path,” her finger traced a line, “through the meadows because it’s shorter than the six miles by road. It’ll be too muddy after the rain, though. So, we’ll have to resort to the main road that takes us to the wrong end of Little Hangleton near the inn.” Her finger hovered over a point next to the woods on the map. Severus supposed it was where the widow’s husband had gotten all those carcasses on the walls. The inn was located on the outskirts, after all, and the window of the bedroom even pointed towards the treeline. “Then we’ll have to walk through the village towards the hill. You saw the church yesterday, right? The bus passed it.” He nodded. “According to the secretary, the Riddle grave should be in the adjacent graveyard. It’s also the boundary of the Riddle grounds. Everything between the woods and the two hills here belongs to their estate.”

“Banished to the outskirts, huh? The family must have sold their land throughout the centuries.”

“Mom always says that if you got more rooms than you can clean in a day and a garden with more grass patches than flower beds, then it’s too big, so sell it.”

Severus hummed. He rather suspected that most of the Pureblood wizards would not agree with that pragmatic belief. “So, we’ll go pay a visit to Riddle manor this afternoon, then.”

“We should try to keep a low profile. From what the receptionist was saying, I don’t think the gardener Frank Bryce will like us intruding on the estate without permission.”

Severus shrugged. “Let’s grab some food, then, and wait the rain out.”

Mary grinned slightly. “And buy some binoculars. As bird-watchers, you can never have enough binoculars.”

He snorted. “Get some diving equipment, too, then, to prove to your mom what a nice time at the beach we had.”

Her giggle warmed him from the inside, as Severus shrugged off his jacket to hand it to Mary like a proper gentleman.

Their conversation at the breakfast table had been somewhat stiff after their hurtful exchange of words the night before, but as soon as they were on their way through the meadows, they had fallen back into their easy banter.

He didn’t know what had driven him to such crude and, yes, cruel behaviour. That Hogwarts story had brought out the worst in him. Oh, Severus didn’t deny that he had a mean streak. He knew exactly where that comment had come from as he was skilled at identifying a person’s insecurities and hitting them where it hurt. However, he was no teenager anymore, and he had had this part of his personality under control for some years. Spying had taught him the necessary control over his words to stay alive despite his double-dealing.

Somehow, he had lost control.

Maybe it was the uncertainty of what they would have to face. Macdonald, too, had seemed unusually uncaring of his reactions. Not that she should have to put up with his mood, his words were inacceptable, but she was good at knowing when he needed space. This time, she had pushed and pushed, as if she didn’t even notice his discomfort, and then he had snapped.
Maybe her thoughts had been negatively influenced by something as well.

“Macdonald,” he said quietly, as she held his jacket over her head and prepared for their mad dash through the rain towards the next shelter. “You know that I would never drag you into danger, right? This is just research.”

She blinked. “Are you trying to comfort me?” She seemed amused by the thought.

“Just saying.”
He wasn’t Albus Dumbledore. He wouldn’t have any underaged kids die for him.

***

They were about halfway between Great Hangleton and Little Hangleton, when Severus found the courage to finally confront Macdonald. She was walking in front of him, the newly-acquired binocular proudly around her neck. She actually did look like a bird-watcher. There was hardly any traffic, so they walked on the road itself instead of in the grass next to it.
“About yesterday,” he started, and instantly, Macdonald became tense. He ignored her defensive stance, because those words needed out: “You were right. I have a tendency to lash out when I feel overwhelmed by a situation. And … that’s a very low threshold for me. I don’t deal well with emotions. I am trying, though. I am trying to become better at … communicating my thoughts. That …. will take time. Have patience with me. Please.”

She turned around, and he felt even more embarrassed by the pity in her face than he did uttering that last please.

“I will tell you off when you overstep. Don’t worry.”

The next minutes, they walked in silence, before Macdonald started pointing out birds for fun to practice their cover story. “Do you think that’s a raven or a crow?”

“Dunno. Could be a blackbird, too?”

They went through a pitiful amount of bird names they actually knew, and the number of birds they could actually identify was even smaller.

***

The closer they got to the inn, the heavier Severus felt. It was the same pull on his mind he had experienced the day before. It must be that oppressive décor. It reminded him of Black’s tasteless house in Grimmauld Place. There had been severed elf heads all over before they started their cleaning. Macdonald, too, seemed more anxious. Their bird-related jokes had ceased when they got close to the woods that ran behind the inn.

“Let’s skip the inn,” he suggested. He felt like snapping at her again, and this time, he recognised that he was projecting his discomfort at her.

“Your trip.” Macdonald sounded unnecessarily miffed. “You make the decision, I just follow.”

“That I do.” As if he would allow a child to dictate his move-. It was happening again. He lost control of himself. Severus pushed the anger that suddenly had come from nowhere down, breathing in and out slowly. “To the graveyard, then.”

That would improve their shared moodiness, sure.

***

The graveyard was in a desolate state, with many tombstones overgrown with ivy. There were two residents from Little Hangleton paying tribute to their family plots with bouquets, but other than that, they were alone.
Severus pressed his lips together as he took in the place. Of course, graveyards all looked the same, yet … it seemed so familiar. He got goosebumps.

Methodically, Macdonald and he walked through the aisles, scanning the names and dates. Then, he spotted a white marble headstone with an ugly angle on top. It had a scythe of all things in its tiny hand, like a Death God instead of a saviour who guided one’s soul to heaven. Its fingers were skeletal, and its head was a mere skull, it seemed.
A shiver ran down Severus’ body, as he stopped mid-step. Macdonald bumped into him: “Ow, what’s wrong?”

Then, she took in the pompous and tasteless grave. “Ah, you found it.”

Severus blinked as he hadn’t even read a single of the letters on the headstone. Instead, his eyes had rested on the hillside behind the grave that sported a manor.

He had been here before.

Severus. If you are prepared.

He nodded. This time, there was no woman Dumbledore could dangle in front of him. This decision to risk his life was him, and him alone. This time, Severus donned the Death Eater robe for nobody but his own desire to right a wrong.

This was … where the Dark Mark had taken him on the eve of the Dark Lord’s return.

He had arrived last, and he had faced not just the Dark Lord’s wand when he was forced to take off the mask in front of everybody.

If it hadn’t been for Lucius …

If Lucius had not spoken out of turn, without the Dark Lord’s permission, to defend him and his actions after the Dark Lord’s fall …

He couldn’t say with conviction that he would have done the same for Lucius Malfoy.
This was what a life debt felt like, probably. It hadn’t completely disappeared even when he swore the Unbreakable Vow to protect Draco.
Emotion-related magic was …. illogical. Life debts were like a pull, an urge to pay back good with good. A debt would only be considered settled if you yourself truly believed without a doubt that you were even.

Severus raised his hand and let it rest on the marble headstone of the Riddle family, just above the name “Tom Riddle.”

“A family extinguished in one night,” Mary whispered, taking in the dates. The receptionist had described their fate, yet there was something much more chilling about seeing evidence.

There was no personal message, as there had been no next of kin left.

Well. Not to the Muggle authorities’ knowledge, that is.

Severus’ eyes were focussed on the manor above the hill.

“How is your Tom Riddle connected to their deaths, Snape?” Mary’s voice was quiet but urgent.

“Can’t you guess?”

“He killed his family, didn’t he? The one that abandoned him and his mom. The library book said it, the father rejected them,” she stated with disgust. “Even so: How can anybody do that? That’s still family!”

“Blood gives you expectations of what the other person should feel for you. And when they reject you … that’s a cut to your very soul.”

Macdonald looked at him curiously but didn’t reply.

“Let’s find that Frank Bryce.” He nodded towards the manor on the hill. “I want to know more about the Riddle family, and maybe he knows something about the mother, Merope Gaunt. She’s still a big question mark other than that she was rejected by her Muggle husband because of her magic.”

“Do you think,” Macdonald hesitated, “he killed his maternal family as well?”

“They would know he was not pure,” Severus concluded with a dark face. “He would not allow anyone to threaten his constructed identity, not even family.”

Together, they made their way up the hill behind the graveyard, completely fixated on the manor above them which proudly looked over the valley.

“I don’t like this place,” Mary confided while breathing heavily from the uphill climb. “There’s something dark hanging over Little Hangleton, pun not intended. It feels like … the darkness is pulling us under. It makes me think … dark thoughts.”

And say dark things, yes. Severus secretly agreed.

“One more day, then we’re out of here,” he promised.

Chapter Text

“Anything in that travel guide of yours on the layout of the grounds?” Severus asked as they drew closer to Riddle manor. The path was overgrown with weed but the white gravel hinted at the past beauty of the estate. Severus could imagine how once luxurious cars would drive towards the manor. There was something … royal about it.

Macdonald jumped over a large puddle that had formed after the mid-day rainstorm. “Most of the pages are about the annual pumpkin festival in Great Hangleton and about some kind of rare snake that has been regularly sighted in the woods. The Riddles aren’t even mentioned.”

Snakes? Lovely. Severus could do without ever facing another one of those reptiles in his life. “Where would you put the gardener’s shack if you were a rich and stuck-up squire?”

“Out of sight,” Macdonald replied instantly. “Probably in the back.”

He agreed. People like the Riddles would not wish to consort with the staff. “Let’s first have a look at the manor.”

Time had not been kind on the elegant building, as fern was slowly swallowing up its walls from the outside. Severus could imagine how the residents would have enjoyed breakfast on their terrace, with the picturesque view over the valley in front of them. Now, though … the white paint started to flake off the manor walls, and some of the windows were broken. Apparently, someone had tried to repair the damage with tape, but evidently, the person had given up that fight. There were also some shattered shingles on the lawn. The wind and weather must have chipped away at the roof until they were torn off.
Around Macdonald and him, there was no noise other than the peaceful humming of the insects that swarmed the wildflowers growing in the meadows.

Driven by curiosity, Severus stepped off the gravel path and into the knee-high grass in order to draw closer to the manor.

“Urgh!” Macdonald followed him with a disgusted expression as she hugged herself. The insects started attacking them, but Severus ignored the itching bites. “You really have a way of finding the most charming of places, Snape.”

“Do you think somebody has lived here in the past 30 years?” he asked while pressing his face against one of the broken windows. The edges of the glass were sharp, as something akin to a stone must have hit it brute force. Thieves, maybe, or pranksters from the village.
His eyes needed a moment to adjust to the darkness inside. It resembled a living room with family pictures on the walls and furniture protectively covered by white cloth.
“What did the receptionist say again? Where did the Riddles die?”

The girl didn’t answer.

“Hey, Macdonald,” Severus repeated his question a tad louder, while studying the layout of the room. “Where did that maid find the bodies?”

“Bit to the left of where you're lookin’ at. All three of ‘em.”

The male voice was gruff; definitely raw from underuse and age. Before Severus had a chance to react, a round object was put against his back. With baited breath, he waited for the command to turn around. “We’re bird-watchers,” he said slowly. “Tourists.”

“Only thing you’ve been wotchin’ is the house.” The pistol tapped against his back. “You here to cause trouble?”

Severus turned around, his hand secretly creeping towards the wand in his back pocket. Just in case.

Macdonald stood a couple of feet away near another broken window. She must have also been busy looking inside when the man surprised her as well. The girl’s eyes were trained on the pistol in the Muggle’s hand. She was shaking all over, and Severus could tell that she was not in the mindset to grab her own wand, although the man was not even paying attention to her.

The Muggle, roughly 60 years of age, wore a stained, chequered shirt and leaned heavily on a walking stick. His face was badly shaven, and he smelled of stale tea and soil. The eyes were blood-shot and shifting nervously between them, but his weapon hand was as calm as a veteran’s.

“Mr Bryce, I presume.” Severus hated that he could hear his own voice shaking.

“You know me.” The man narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “Awful lot of research for burglars.”

“We’re not thieves!” Macdonald bristled. She finally overcame the first shock and put her hands on her hips. “We’re on holiday, as my brother told you! The Riddle case sounded interesting, so we thought we’d check it out. Put the gun down! We haven’t done anything wrong!”

“You’re trespassin’, you wannabe detectives”, the gardener responded, which made Severus grab his hidden wand harder, but then the man complied anyway. He lowered the gun, yet he would not relax his stance. Frank Bryce was scanning Severus up and down as if he were assessing the danger level he posed. “You better leave this property and find some magpies to bother instead. If I see you loiterin’ ‘round the manor again, I’ll shoot. You can quote that for your magazine, you hear.”

“Rude! There’s not even a sign for private property, so -” Macdonald exclaimed but Severus cut off her rant: “Mr Bryce. We’re here to find out what happened the night the Riddles were killed.”

Frank Bryce’s face turned dark as he stared them down, his fingers closing harshly around the handle of the pistol. “Get your facts straight, boy. The Riddles had heart-attacks, all of ‘em. There’s no crime for you to investigate.”

“Collectively?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “A heart-attack?”

“Take that up with the police, you nosy brat. It’s what the coroner said. The first an’ the second one. Heart-attacks, all three of ‘em, and that got nothing to do with me. Write that in your newspaper if you must. An’ I thought I finally got rid of all those journalist pests. Can’t you guys just leave a man be? The Riddles have been dead 30 years. Let me an’ them rest.”

“The dead are dead and don’t care,” Severus answered savagely, drawing a gasp from Macdonald at his harsh words. “But you do still care about the shoddy investigation the police did. So, tell us what happened. Tell us your side of the story. What’s the harm?”

***

“Thank you,” Macdonald said as Frank Bryce put a cup of black tea in front of her. Severus didn’t pay his own mug any attention as he was too busy studying his surroundings.
The Muggle had invited them back to his two-room hut. There was barely enough space to move as the gardening tools occupied most of the area. The only luxury Bryce owned was a small black-and-white TV. Over the cheap electric heater, there was an empty showcase, and Severus suspected that this was the proper place for the pistol Bryce had placed on the table. Some medals on the walls hinted at the man’s military background. A rough-looking cat hissed at them from the sofa.

“Cosy,” Macdonald commented after stroking the unfriendly animal once. “Must be lonely so far from the village, though. Or does someone live in Riddle Manor?”

“Just me.” Bryce threw himself on the empty chair, putting his bad leg on a small stool. “Dunno who the property belongs to, people buy and sell houses to make a profit all the time. I just do my thing. My only visitors are teenagers who do dares and throw stones and destroy the flower beds. An’ noisy city people like you who accuse me of killin’ the Riddles.”

Macdonald nodded, inspecting the picture-less walls of the shack without even trying to disguise her interest. “Why didn’t you move away?” she asked. “It cannot have been easy to live in this community with that suspicion hanging over you.”

“People believe whatever they want to believe. Makes no difference to me.”

After a sip, Severus placed his mug on the dining table, ignoring the creaking of doom from the chair underneath him. Slowly, he folded his hands on the table. “Mr Bryce. Why did people suspect you? There were no marks on the bodies, right?”
Courtesy of Avada Kedavra.

Bryce became visibly upset as he grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey from the other end of the table. “They needed a scapegoat. You said it yourself, boy. It’s not like three people of different ages just up an’ have a heart-attack the same night by coincidence. The police came to my door straight away and said I poisoned ‘em with some of my supplies as a gardener. Didn’t wait for no body examination.”

“Do you have a motive, then?”

Severus’ question made Bryce take a huge swing from the bottle. “They were nasty folks, I tell you. Nobody shed a tear in Hangleton. They paid shite, and they treated the villagers like shite, too. Thought themselves above us, filthy rich as they were. Sure. I had a bit of a fight with the missus about the roses, I suppose. She didn’t like how I cut ‘em. And I got fired and re-hired couple times, too. Who didn’t, tho? But the police came to my door, not the maid’s. ‘Cause people always talked trash about me.”

“No,” Severus contradicted the man immediately before Bryce could even become angry. “How would a hated gardener have even managed to get access to the food in the main building? There must have been something else why the police chose you.”

The Muggle hummed annoyed. “Got a key, actually. Only spare one and there had been no sign of anyone breaking in.”

Of course not. Alohomora would have worked just fine if needs must. “Could they have let their murderer in instead?”

Bryce’s face became closed off. “Go bother someone else,” he demanded. “I got no information on the case other than that it wasn’t me.”

Macdonald flinched when Bryce grabbed his pistol, but the man merely placed in in the empty showcase. Then, he took their still-filled mugs and carried them to the kitchen, ignoring his two guests altogether.

Weird reaction.
Really weird reaction.

While Macdonald moved to get up, Severus refused to acknowledge that they were being thrown out. “Of course, it wasn’t you,” he said loudly. The footsteps in the kitchen stopped. Severus decided to gamble: “The murderer was seventeen years old Tom Riddle junior who took revenge on his father for rejecting him as a baby.”

A mug splintered on the kitchen floor.

Severus could feel Macdonald’s startled eyes on himself. He crossed his arms in front of his chest and waited for Bryce to slowly return from the kitchen. The man seemed haunted by the past as he stared at Severus with wide eyes. “What did you say?”

“You must know of Merope Gaunt. There’s no way the Riddles kept that scandal a secret in such a small community. Even if it happened before you worked for them.”

Bryce swayed until his back hit the wall behind him. His whisper barely reached their ears. “ … a pale boy like you, a sliver of a thing. Came up the hill.”

“Snape, I don’t think we should –“

He cut Macdonald off with a brisk movement of his hand. “You want revenge, right, Mr Bryce? For years of being treated like a monster. Help us get it for you. What did you see that day?”

A shiver ran over Macdonald. Severus could feel it where their knees met under the small dining table.

“You know ‘im?” Bryce croaked.

“All too well.”

Bryce grabbed the walking stick that he had abandoned at the entrance to the kitchen. The conversation had drained his energy as he needed the stick now to join them once more at the table. His eyes rested on Severus. Scanned him up and down. “… I thought you were ‘im, you know. When I saw you come up that hill like he did in the afternoon. He looked through that window, too. Pale and black hair and lanky, and wearing clothes too big for ‘im. Different nose and chin, tho. Not his son, are you?”

“No,” Severus said quietly, “I am nothing like him.”

Bryce’s voice shook as he continued: “I didn’t recognise ‘im, but now that you say it … could have been a Riddle. I remember him well because it was weird. He came from the woods. Not from the main road like you two.”

“The woods?” Severus frowned. An apparition spot, maybe? “So nobody saw him other than you? Nobody in the village.”

Bryce shrugged. He scratched at his untidy beard. “Made the police doubt my statement. Not that my word means anything to ‘em.” The gardener rubbed his forehead. “If he’s Merope’s son, it finally makes sense that he came from the woods.”

“What do you mean?” Severus asked sharply.

“Well, it’s where his uncle lives, right? Or lived. The police took ‘im a couple weeks after the Riddles died. He always was a nutter.”

“Uncle?” Severus repeated, his voice rose dramatically. “He had more family here?”

“Yeah. Morty or Morfy Gaunt, I think. Weird family. Dangerous lunatics, all of ‘em. The dad was already in prison when I became the Riddles’ gardener, but the son still lived in that shack of theirs in the middle of nowhere. The villagers knew to keep out of the woods while he was ‘round. He kept pet snakes and threw knives and stuff.”

“Why did they take the uncle?” Macdonald asked with a pensive look on her face. “Did they suspect he killed the Riddles? And why did he not return?”

“Dunno. It was special forces, I guess. Not our police. Some guys from London. He was a bit … disabled, they say nowadays. A total nutter. Only talked in hisses, not a real language. The mayor from Hangleton told us that his arrest was unrelated to the Riddles, tho.”

Severus tensed. “Hissing? Like a snake?”

“Guess so.”

Macdonald made a surprised sound. Her eyes were blown wide as she stared at Severus. He sighed as he answered her unspoken question.

A parselmouth, yes.

Severus breathed in slowly. “Did Merope also hiss instead of talk?”

“Never met ‘er.” Bryce frowned. “What I know about the Gaunts is just gossip from one of the kitchen maids. She had been workin’ for the Riddles all her life. Bessie, bless her, only one who didn’t think me a murderer. Well, not at first, at least. When she talked about Merope Gaunt, the girl sounded pretty boring. Unexpectedly ugly, too. Apparently, the young master was foolin’ around with her like with most girls in the village. Bessie said they probably had a pregnancy scare, the girl was really no marriage material for the young master. They moved out as a compromise ‘cause his family hated his choice, and they didn’t want that girl in the manor. They gave them one of the houses in the village. His wife was a bit rough, not a polished young mistress like his own mother. They made it, like, a year or so. One day, they had a big fight, and he appeared on his parents’ doorstep in the middle of the night and rambled about what a witch the girl was. The old masters were just glad they finally got rid of that bad match. There was no trace of the girl, tho, and the police started investigating. A real mess, Bessie said. The girl had just disappeared into thin air.”

“We found an article on Merope Gaunt.” Macdonald bit her fingernails nervously. “She gave birth to her child in an orphanage in London and died the same night. No wonder they didn’t find her. But why didn’t she go home to her brother if he lived in the woods?”

Severus cleared his throat: “I assume the Gaunts preferred to stick to their own blood and would not have welcomed the child which was half Riddle.” He exchanged a knowing glance with Macdonald. “What about Merope’s father who was in prison back then?”

Bryce shook his head. “The old Gaunt died soon after the police released him. Prison had weakened him.”

“Why was he taken, anyway?” Severus asked.

“There was some scuffle about his daughter, dunno the details. The old Riddles sometimes bragged that they got justice after the Gaunts attacked their son for romancing the girl. That was before the marriage.”

Macdonald looked to Severus in confusion.

Azkaban for hurting a Muggle, he sent in her direction.

Finally, the puzzle pieces slotted together to form a picture. Between what he knew from his past life, his research at Hogwarts and Bryce’s memory, the origins of the Dark Lord became clearer.

In a Pureblood family that apparently directly descended from Salazar Slytherin, a girl like Merope Gaunt truly would have been nothing but a broodmare. As he had surmised, she hadn’t gotten any magical education, not in Hogwarts, not anywhere else. Stuck in this boring village without any prospects of becoming independent from her father and brother, the idea of breaking free by romancing a rich Muggle must have been a thrill. Classic teenage rebellion.
Of course, the Gaunts, purest of the pure, could not have been keen on that relationship. On their broodmare to be sullied by a Mudblood. They would have hurt the Muggle to punish Merope – Purebloods did not like to risk permanent damage to their goods, and merely slapping the girl around would not have been enough to restore their family honor.
When the Gaunts attacked the Muggle boyfriend, they were arrested by Aurors. Without male oversight, Merope then pursued her mixed marriage. A girl like her would have turned desperate to find someone to take care of her because she wasn’t raised to be independent. She would have been like a damsel in distress, and she would have clung to that Muggle boy with all her might. Then, she got pregnant. There would have been nothing else on her mind after the marriage as girls like her were raised to think that children were their duty. That a child created an unbreakable bond.
Maybe she had hidden her magic at first in order not to be rejected by the Muggle. Pregnancy, though, it changed things. Sure, she could have hoped for a Squib, but people like her did not even consider such a ‘blight’. She would have presumed the child to be magical. So she confessed to the Muggle, thinking that pregnancy would tie them together enough to weather that storm like most witches in mixed marriages. Unlike in the Muggle world, divorce was basically unheard of in the Wizarding World.
Merope must have been shocked to find herself alone and with child, although she would not even have known how to take care of herself. In a way, looking for an orphanage was probably the most courageous action the girl had ever taken in her life. Severus could picture the girl, sitting on the floor of the house she had lived in with her husband for a year. Could imagine dinner on the table, broken glass from when Tom Riddle had thrown it after her in fury. Could hear the girl crying bitter tears of desperation.
She would not have been taught how to apparate, would have barely known any spells. In the middle of the night, as her husband knocked on his parents’ manor doors, she would have walked to the bus stop, the one Severus and Mary had arrived at yesterday. She would have cradled her stomach, shivering from the cold as she would not have thought to even bring her cloak.
Desperate, she would have started walking down the road towards the next village to leave the shame behind – she would not have waited for the morning hours when people could spot her at the bus stop.

Lies and deceit, Severus thought bitterly, make bad foundations for a happy marriage. His own family was the prime example of that.

Bryce seemed tired, the way he put his head in his hands and supported it on the table. “How are you two connected to Tom Riddle, tho?”

“He killed one of my friends,” Severus revealed quietly, sending Macdonald into a flinch. “He’s a murderer through and through. I want to stop him.”

The gardener hummed. “Good luck with that.”

***

They had silently made their way towards the woods without even having to discuss their next destination. Time was working against them, as they would need to get the morning bus to London. Macdonald’s mother expected them back by Sunday afternoon. Over them, the sun was already getting ready to set for the night. Orange streaks cut through the blue sky.
Near the treeline, Macdonald finally opened her mouth: “Was it true what you have told that man? Tom Riddle killed someone you know?”

Severus didn’t reply. There was no good answer he could share with Macdonald anyway. She would declare him a headcase if he told her Oh, he will. In about four years.

Macdonald seemed unhappy with his silence. “You said you can’t tell me any details because it would endanger me. However, you’ve already brought Death Eaters to my doorstep the moment you came to us after the assault in Diagon Alley. You could at least do me the courtesy of explaining what we’re doing here.”

“We,” Severus enunciated, “are on a fact-finding mission, as I told you in the London library. I want Tom Riddle dead, so I am researching him. That’s all you need to know.”

“Is it?” Mary came to an abrupt halt, forcing Severus to decide whether to ignore it or to stop as well.

Awkwardly, he turned around. They were already near the woods, and he felt the afternoon sun disappearing in the background. The air got cooler, and the treeline behind them swallowed most of the remaining daylight. A lone owl hooted.

“Is that really all I need to know?” The blond girl bit her lip as her eyes burnt with anger.

“For now.”

“I only know of one Parselmouth.”

Severus pressed his lips together as they remained in a standstill in the middle of the path that led to the woods. There was about two feet between them.

“I am afraid to turn my back on you,” Macdonald suddenly admitted in a quiet voice. “It feels like you will obliviate me. Maybe not with your wand, but with the one you keep hiding from me in your back pocket.”

He studied her face for a long second, before pulling out his mother’s wand. She flinched as he turned it between his fingers, rolling it around, and then demonstratively putting it in the front pocket of his jacket. “The only person my fingers itch to obliviate is Frank Bryce, but we don’t know if there’s a witch or wizard close enough to mask our presence. A burst of magic out here might get the Ministry’s attention.”

He turned his back on her and walked into the woods.

***

Her steps behind him were soft and reminded him like a constant pressure on his mind of the danger she posed.
Obliviate her with her own wand”, something inside him suggested. And send her back to the village. It will be safer.

It was the pragmatic, the Slytherin way of dealing with the situation.

“Careful,” he warned Macdonald, as a tree branch snapped backwards when he forced his way through the scrubs.

There was no clear path through the woods which seemed to be devoid of all life, even birds, ironically. There was something ominous about the silence. As if something was driving everything away.

Turn on her before she turns on you.

Severus continued towards the heart of the woods.

“Where are we going?” Macdonald complained. Fear laced her voice, and something in Severus seemed to respond to this. It gave him a thrill that she was so scared of him.
He pushed the unkind, the strange feeling away, supporting his weight against an oak and rubbing his forehead against the bark.

Severus felt disorientated. Drawn towards … something. If only he got rid of her. If only he …

“Snape? Are you okay?” She touched his shoulder, and Severus felt as if her fingers burnt their way through his skin and imprinted on his very soul.
Why did she even care? They were not friends.
He didn’t have friends.
He was …
He was …

Severus looked at Macdonald like a rabbit caught in the headlights of a car.

“There’s something in my mind”, he said alarmed. “And I think it’s also in yours. Are you thinking of attacking me, Macdonald?”

Her hand which had slowly crept towards the wand in her backpack stilled guiltily. “What?”

“Are you. Thinking. Of attacking me. Before I attack you?”

Finish her.

Her eyes were blown wide in panic.
Then.
She nodded.

“Don’t”, he said, grabbing her by the shoulders and staring into her eyes. “In the Muggle library… you told me … to trust you.” He pushed the darkness to the back of his mind. It remained a constant murmur, it constantly edged into his thoughts. “I trust you, Macdonald. I need you to trust me, too.”

It scared Severus to see a shadow swimming in her brown eyes, yet he did not allow himself to go for his wand.

“I need you to be strong, Macdonald,” he added, grabbing her hand, now. “Stronger than ever before. Whatever this is … maybe a protective ward around the Gaunt shack … it only wants one of us. So I need you to be my back-up. Whatever its plan … its power … it’s been trying to divide us from the beginning. We can’t. Okay? We can’t fight each other. Focus on the real enemy.”

He pressed her hand tightly. A second passed, then another. Finally, Macdonald responded in kind, and the way she grabbed his hand filled him with relief. “We could just leave,” she whispered. “We could just forget everything Bryce told us. The things we found out in the library. We could just go back to being Hogwarts students. Adults should do this, not us. Maybe we could tell Dumbledore -”
She cut herself off. Breathed in. Breathed out.
“You won’t, though, right? No matter what I say, you will go in there.”

In there? He frowned and turned his head in surprise.

Between the oaks, which blocked all light, there was a moss-covered shack with barely any tiles left on the roof as nature was busy reclaiming it.

The surprise weakened Severus’ grasp on his mind for a second.

Come, get me, the voice whispered, and finally it clicked who was talking to him.

“Lily,” he croaked, watching the red-haired woman which leaned against the door of the shack. Once their eyes met, the figure smiled and disappeared inside. “Lily!”

Severus jumped forward, ignoring Macdonald’s cries and raced towards the shack, stumbling over roots, and falling on his knees twice, making him bleed through his trousers.

“Are you crazy?” Macdonald tried to grab his arm but he pushed her off, going after Lily.

Help me.

Severus rattled at the door which did not give an inch. Time and age had jammed it shut. “Fuck!” he shouted. How had Lily gotten in? “Help me!” he demanded of Macdonald who had stopped in her tracks and refused to come any closer to the Gaunt shack.

“What’s gotten into you?”

“Didn’t you see Lily? She’s in there!”

“Lily?” Macdonald repeated confused.

Severus ignored her, pushing against the door with all his might, hitting it over and over with his shoulder. That had been his Lily, not the child-version in Cokeworth. In a frenzy, he braced himself against the pain as the loose door nails cut into his skin each time he slammed his body against the door.

Then, the wood shattered.

Breathing heavily, Severus stumbled into the dusty, dark shack. There was no light, no sign of life.

Help me, please.

“Where are you?” Severus turned left, turned right.

“Snape, focus”, Macdonald demanded but he pushed her calming hand away. He did not want her touch.

You owe me. Help me.

Frantically, Severus got out his wand and cast a Lumos.

“Snape! You said yourself, no magic!”

“Oh, fuck off!” he snarled, looking around desperately.

The stone, Severus, Dumbledore’s voice told him. A broken voice of a broken man, of another time. Release us from the stone.

In a trance, Severus circled the room looking for the stone, as his head was flooded by memories of the blood he had shed as a death eater. Of the pain he caused. Of kneeling in front of Dumbledore and begging for Lily’s life. You disgust me.

You owe us. Help us.

Severus crashed against a rotting table, throwing it out of his way as he started going through the shelves, trashing whatever he could get his hands on.

“Snape!”

“The stone! Find the stone!” he told Macdonald.

“WHY?”

He looked at her feverishly. “FIND THE STONE!”

Then, he saw the dead snake nailed against one of the floorboards in his wand light. Hastily, he scratched with his nails against the uneven floor tiles, driving dozens of wood splinters into his hands. Finally, the tile moved and revealed a box.

With bleeding fingers and bruised shoulders, he crashed onto his knees and opened the box, hungrily taking in its contet.

A golden ring lay in it, with a plain stone in the middle. The air sang a tune of victory as he began to reach for the ring.

The stone, Dumbledore informed him, You only need to remove the stone.

“Flipendo!”
Macdonald’s spell crashed directly into Severus’ chest, throwing him against the back wall of the shack and making him lose his lit wand. With a clatter, the ring rolled across the floor, glistening in the magical light his wand continued to emit from the side of the room.

The ring came to a halt directly in front of the girl.

Severus head throbbed as he had hit it hard against the sink. “The fuck, Macdonald?” he complained, rubbing his head. The trauma finally made him feel the cuts and bruises he had gotten in the past minutes. Severus doubled over, holding his arm. It felt almost like he had broken something when he had rammed himself against the door.

Why had he even done –

“Dad?”

Dad?

Severus opened his eyes in full-blown panic: “MACDONALD, NO!”

The girl reached down to grab the ring as Severus did the only thing he could: He tackled her away, both of them rolling over the floor fighting. Then, he could feel the darkness stretching out towards him again. Consciously, he pushed back, occluding with all his might.

It could only control one of them.

Instantly, the thing stopped pursuing him, as his defences were too high, but Macdonald renewed her struggle. The girl bit Severus in the arm as she fought his headlock.

“You will thank me later!” he shouted into her ears, as he hit her head against the toppled-over chair.

Nothing but his heavy breathing filled the cabin: Severus remained laying almost on top of the unconscious girl. A trickle of blood ran down her hairline, mixing with his own smears of blood.

“This week really can’t get any worse,” he mumbled. Then, his eyes shifted towards the golden ring that was barely a feet away from him.

Pick me up. You want to, right? You want to see your loved ones again.

Severus pushed against the thought, filling his head with the memories of Dumbledore’s hand. The darkened, cursed hand that he had bandaged for the man every second day, that he had put salve on, that he had bent over frantically when Dumbledore first showed on his doorstep near death.

He refused to fall prey to that thing, too.

Shaking all over, fighting his own mind, the enemy within … he grabbed Macdonald’s discarded wand and directed it at the ring. Loved ones be damned: “Bombarda!”

The heat of the explosion made him shield his own face, as dark shadows collected in the air, racing towards him and Macdonald. “Protego Maxima! Avada Kedavra!”

The green spell bounced off the ring uselessly as the black mass formed into… Lily.

Her green eyes were ablaze as she directed her own wand at Severus.

You betrayed me, she said with a crazy look on her face. It was The Dark Lord’s voice that spoke through her mouth, though. You betrayed me, Severus. You owe me … your death.

Lily raised her wand as Severus could do nothing but stare at the silhouette.

You owe me. With your lifeforce … with your magic … I will …

Severus’ hands shook as he enclosed Macdonald’s wand with both, directing it at Lily’s chest.

Will you kill me again?” it taunted. This time with your own hands, you coward?

“AVADA…. AVADA KEDAVRA!”

The spell hit her, her eyes widened in surprise, in pain. Severus could only stare in horror as her o-shaped mouth suddenly turned into a teethy smile.

“Lily?” Macdonald’s weak voice cut Severus like a sword. The girl had one eye open and was staring disorientedly at the ghost-like imprint before them.

Lily raised her wand: “Crucio!”

Severus braced himself for the crashing wave of pain, fully knowing what to expect. Seconds, minutes or hours – he did not know. When the agony stopped, he was on his back, wandless, with Macdonald firing off spell after spell, all of them having no effect on the ghost-like figure in front of them. Their shadows danced in front of the dim light his wand was mockingly emitting from the other side of the room.

Then, Macdonald made a mistake as she jumped away to escape a green blaze. It left her in a dead-end, stuck between the sink and the bed, with her foot stuck in the destroyed floorboard.

Lily suddenly morphed into Magnus Macdonald, now solely focused on the girl instead of Severus.

They were losing.
But they couldn’t …. Couldn’t let that …. Thing …. get out.

Severus grabbed his mother’s wand from his front pocket and with trembling fingers, he shouted at the same time as the mass of dark magic started to cast:

“Avada–“

“Ignis Maximo!”

The burst of fiendfyre from his wand cut off the deadly spell, as Severus could only see Macdonald’s and her father’s surprise as the stream of flames set the shack ablaze. A deafening shriek cut through the air, as Magnus Macdonald turned back into a black mass which winded itself from the roaring fire.

Extinguish the fire the voice demanded in Lily’s panicked voice. Or we all die.

Yeah, that was the plan.

Severus stopped the stream of fire from his mother’s wand, which served him loyally even to its own destruction as the flames around them had started to eat the wooden walls and floor.

I am sorry, Mary, Severus sent his apology towards the girl, who was still caught in the back of the shack, as he himself didn’t have the strength anymore to keep himself upright and crashed onto the floor of the shack after this feat of magic.

That thing must not feed from them to do … whatever. Severus would rather burn himself to death.

At the other end of the room, his own wand caught fire.

The shrieking became louder until the dark mass of magic, winding itself, disappeared in a burst, the ring completely engulfed just like the wood around them.

Severus closed his eyes as he lay on the scorching hot floor unmoving, the flames licking at his clothes as the fire-creatures sought out to burn everything in the shack to a crisp.

“You promised, Severus!” Mary’s voice cut through his throbbing, abused mind. “You promised you’d protect me!”

Her desperate Aguamentis did nothing on the fire engulfing them.

“You PROMISED!”

That he did.
Severus opened his eyes, blinking away the stream of blood from his head wound. Then, he fought himself back on his knees, crawling towards Macdonald through the burning flames and the smoke filling the cabin.

“Grab my hand!” he demanded, coughing and toppling over in the same second. Mary, still stuck in the floor panel, reached out and … their hands met mid-fall. Instinctively, Severus closed his fingers on hers.

Destination, determination, de…. Oh, screw it all.
Severus brute-forced his magic into apparating them outside the shack where they hit the grass hard enough to steal them the last oxygen from their abused lungs.

He couldn’t even move his head, tired as he was, drained, exhausted to death. Instead, he watched the flames reaching high into the midnight-blue sky.

“What,” Mary’s voice was rough from the smoke she inhaled and the bubbling tears she was crying, “was that?”

Severus shielded his eyes from the ash and sparks raining down on them. “I think … that was a Horcrux.”

“A what?” The girl sounded close to hysterical.

“Later,” he promised, collecting his limbs under himself. Mary was sitting in the grass. She was still slightly bleeding from the head wound he had inflicted on her to break the thing’s hold on her mind, and her foot was bleeding from how hard she had tried to pull it free from the floorboard. Her blond locks were full of dust, of ash.
He himself probably didn’t look any better, what, with the bloody knees, and the small wounds where the doornails had stabbed him in the shoulder, and the head wound from crashing into the sink from Macdonald’s Flipendo, and the wooden splinters in his hand.
“I just … used fiendfyre … which is super dark. Unforgivably dark. Even if they didn’t care about our previous magic… the Muggles won’t be able to extinguish it … we need to leave. The Aurors… “

She looked at him with tear-stained cheeks and trembling all over from the traumatic experience. Mary closed her eyes, wiping her face clean on her trousers, then she nodded. “Back to the village then,” she said, “and pretend nothing happened.”

***

***

“You’re brave,” Severus commented while she dragged him back down the hill to Little Hangleton, her wand ready in case they were attacked again. “A true Gryffindor.”
He felt a bit light-headed. Almost like drunk. Concussion or blood loss? Or just a depleted magical core?

“Oh, shut up.” Mary breathed heavily. “And move your feet, you lazy bastard.”

“No swear words,” he joked weakly into her ear as he tried to rely less on her support to walk. “Your mom would be horrified if she heard you.”

“Imagine what she’s going to say tomorrow when she sees us” Mary replied in a biting tone.

Chapter Text

“Stop looking at people as if you are a convict on the run,” Mary chided him as Severus once again took a peek at the people that got on their bus.

“Should I rather pretend to read a newspaper upside-down, then?”

She flushed, quickly turning the Guardian in her hands 180 degrees. Some previous passenger had forgotten it on their seats, and the girl had grabbed it immediately to hide her blood-stained face.

“I wish the bus would finally leave.”

Severus definitely shared that sentiment. Nervously, he corrected the position of the jacket with which he had sort of but not completely blocked their window from curious eyes on the outside.
The sun wasn’t up yet, so there was barely anyone on the streets of Little Hangleton. The driver had shown them mercy and let them in despite the fact that they had been half an hour early. Thankfully, the darkness had hidden their sorry state of appearance. “Don’ puke on the seats,” had been the only thing the bus driver had said to Severus, who had still been leaning heavily on Mary.

As there were only two busses scheduled a day, five other passengers had soon joined them to get to the nearest city despite the early hours.

“How many?” Mary whispered from behind the old newspaper.

Severus took a quick glance through the window before withdrawing his face. “Two or three in sight. There’s an old lady on the bench near the inn who wears a white nightgown. Not sure if she merely has dementia or no idea what Muggles wear outside.”

“Can’t believe they’re not searching the bus.”

“They’re not actively looking for us,” Severus replied quietly. “They think we apparated away. Last spell used at the shack, after all. They will collect evidence and testimony, though.”

The two Aurors wearing mismatching sets of formal shirts with red ties and blue jeans were engaged in a strategy meeting with lots of hand-waving towards the forest. The left one could have been that sullen Auror Severus met at the Ministry. Alphard.

The mother with the baby in the second row started gossiping with the bus driver about how shoddy the equipment of the local firefighters was and how the council saved its residents to death with how little it paid for its emergency services. “Those specialists from London, they used some chemicals, Dave said,” Severus heard her complain. “Why can’t our people have chemicals like that?”

The bus driver ranted: “It’s always the same! They never give any money to us people in the villages. Everthin’ goes into the upkeepin’ of Great Hangleton.”

Mary’s stomach suddenly grumbled in protest as they hadn’t eaten anything since lunch the previous day. “I really wish we could have grabbed a bite at the inn.”

He snorted. “Believe me, I would have gone in there if it had been a viable option.” He reluctantly let her in on his biggest concern right now. “Remember when I told you to get us back into the thick shrubs and wait for the bus to arrive? I saw an Auror in front of the inn. His name’s Moody, and he … he’s good. By now, he probably suspects that I was involved in the fire.”

“What do you mean?” She eyed him worriedly, lowering the newspaper for a second.

“I left a couple of things under our bed, so that my bag wouldn’t be this heavy. There’s a book in that guest room,” he admitted. “Moody saw me with it before. He’ll count one and one together.”

“And the book’s super rare, I suppose?” She closed her eyes exasperatedly but then resigned herself to this fact with a shrug. “Somehow, I feel like dealing with an unfriendly Auror is manageable in comparison to who you really intend to fuck with.”

She was, in a way, right.

“Though Avery will skin me-“ He stopped himself. Avery probably had more pressing issues than a missing book from his father’s collection.

Before Mary could ask about that comment, the motor of the bus jumped into action. Severus hastily looked outside where the old woman in the nightgown abruptly stood up. He held his breath but then, the woman moved past the still opened bus doors and back towards the village centre.

Constant vigilance, his brain supplied mockingly.
Little Hangleton sure was a creepy place.

***

During their bus journey, Mary and he borrowed a package of tissues from an old lady that was on her way to visit her daughter in Exeter. Back in their seats, they got started on cleaning their wounds, using the little water they had left in their plastic bottles from the backpacks. It stung a lot when Mary touched his head wound, but the dizziness had lifted after the first few hours spend sitting in the shadow of a tree at the edge of the woods while hiding from the alerted Aurors and flummoxed Muggle firefighters.

A depleted core, Severus concluded, rather than a concussion.

Maybe he should not have fought Death Eaters in Diagon Alley the same week he decided to almost burn himself to a crisp using fiendfyre.

Still, he was used to performing complex magic like this on a much larger scale. Why did he feel so … empty? He hadn’t noticed any difference before. Besides, it wasn’t really like a teenager’s magic was that much different from an adult's . It was control that students learned at Hogwarts, not how to expand one's core.

Pensively, he studied his mother’s frail wand. Could it be that it was working against him?

He discarded the thought immediately. The wand had performed willingly enough, going by that fierce fiendfyre. Mary’s wand, too, hadn’t given him any attitude. Nothing like that rot about wands being choosy that Ollivander tended to preach, at least.

It was as if something had secretly fed on his magic, instead.

“Mary, does your core feel … sore?”

“I feel exhausted,” Mary answered with a clear duh in her voice. “Who wouldn’t after that fight?”

Severus hummed, watching cattle graze next to the main road as the bus started to gain speed.

That … thing’s words repeated over and over in his head. You owe me. With your lifeforce …

Did Horcruxes suck on a person’s magical core? Similar to how Dementors preyed on souls?

It was a chilling thought, and he felt himself shiver all over despite the fact that the bus was pleasantly warm after a night of spontaneous camping in the woods without any blankets.

Was this how Horcruxes worked? Did they … store magic? And feed on magic around them to keep themselves in existence?
Maybe that sealed mass of magic could then be used to perform a life-extending spell?

Horcrux did translate to container of evil. How could life be evil, though? Because it fed on other people’s magic? Still a big question mark in his mind.

“Mary. What’s a container of evil to you?”

She seemed doubtful about where this came from but answered nonetheless. “A can of olives, I’d say.”

Severus frowned.
No, that had not been helpful.
He redirected his attention to the landscape that rapidly flew past them.

“The really evil thing is, I left all my clothes at the inn,” Mary sighed. “Do we have enough money to buy something at the train station that my mom won’t freak out about?”

***

The shirts they bought from the first tourist shops at Exeter St. David’s train station were garish, but Mary and Severus neither had the money nor the time to be picky.

“Why would somebody want to literally walk around as a Union Jack?” Mary grimaced as she got out of the public woman’s lavatory, her dirty clothes firmly stowed away in her backpack. He, too, handed her his things for storage but Mary only raised an eyebrow and nodded towards a bin.

“It’s not that bad,” Severus argued.

“There are burn marks and holes in it. Bin it.”

He sighed, then threw the bloody and torn clothes into the trash.

The bought shirt was too wide in the frame, and he found himself picking at the cheap polyester. “I don’t think these are my colours.”

She snorted, handing him the baseball cap that they also bought to hide the cut on his forehead. With a suffering glance, he donned it, finishing off the ridiculous look they both sported. “We should go to a football game. We certainly would fit right in with the crowd.”

Since they still had about an hour before their train would depart for London Paddington, Mary and Severus went looking for appropriate souvenirs. The shop keeper raised both eyebrows when they asked for something sea-related, but handed them a postcard featuring a generic beach and a stuffed dolphin.

***

“I should have gone for the pink unicorn shirt,” Mary joked, finally throwing her heavy bag under the train seat. “If somebody else asks me who’s my favourite Lion, I’ll scream.”

“Well, those guys certainly were puzzled when you said Smith.”

“It’s like the most common name, so it’s actually incredibly unlikely that there’s no Smith on the national football team.”

Well, he would not argue statistics with her, even though Severus fought the urge to point out that literally a majority of British people were not called Smith.

Severus slid the electric door close behind himself. The train was moderately full for a Saturday morning. However, he had paid the extra money at the station to upgrade their tickets to a private compartment. He owed Mary a conversation, after all.

Diligently, he got out his re-filled water bottle as well as the sandwiches they had bought at the train station, and handed Mary the one with cream cheese. Meadows and trees and villages flew past them as they satiated the hunger that had built over the course of the stressful weekend.

“So,” Mary started the discussion that was long overdue, “you’re after the Big Bad. And not in the way that James and Sirius always claim.”

Severus raised his arm to show off his unblemished skin since the sports tricot had no sleeves. She nodded, pushing the breadcrumbs off the thin train table and into the empty sandwich package. Then, she put it in the passenger mini-bin on the side of the bench.

“Did you intend to ever tell me? You sort of made me your accomplice, after all.”

“You weren’t supposed to be involved in any of the dangerous parts” he admitted in an apologetic tone. “I really thought we would only do reconnaissance in Hangleton. That thing that attacked us … I did not know it was being kept there. And I sure would have run for the hills instead of traipsing into the woods with you if I had considered at that point that there was any real danger.”

Sure, he had noticed its bleak power reaching out to them before but it hadn’t felt any different from wards repelling unwanted guests. Only once they entered the woods had he realised that these were not his own dark thoughts dragged to the forefront by a suggestive spell but … something in his head capable of thoughts and planning.

Mary frowned. “Humor me. What do you think I am mad about?”

“Almost getting you killed.” Severus hesitated. “Almost killing you.”

“That certainly was a nasty surprise but honestly, I think you made the right decisions during the fight. Even this.” Mary touched the scabs from when he had knocked her unconscious. They were well-hidden by her blond locks. “I am bloody mad, though, that you pretended you’re up to something shady when in reality, you’re trying to make a difference. Do you know how many nights I stayed up and looked at the ceiling of my room wondering why the hell I was supporting whatever you were up to? Whether I had gone crazy? You told me to my face in the London library that you would kill Tom Riddle. I had no idea who that was besides some half-blood. And your word that he deserved it.”

Severus blinked. “You shouldn’t follow someone so blindly.”

“Are you FOR REAL?” Mary shook her head annoyed. “So, what’s the next step?”

“What do you mean?”

Well, you found out he’s a dirty half-blood like us. Poor purebloods for following him like sycophants. However, I don’t think that will topple him. Enough people believe Muggles and wizards should not mingle. You can remove the head but not the idea behind this war.”

Severus looked outside to hide his own guilt. He himself did share that sentiment, at least to some extent. When cultures met, there was the chance for violence. For fear, but also, as his father had proven … jealousy.
Severus wasn’t just talking about himself. As Head of House, he had gotten to know a couple of mixed families with issues between a magical and a non-magical partner, and it was often the child that suffered the most. There were also Harry bloody Potter’s memories, which he had been forced to watch during Occlumency classes. They had shown that Petunia’s jealousy hadn’t gotten better with age.
When one person could do things that the other person couldn’t… it bred discontent.

“Don’t you sometimes just … feel that you don’t belong?” he asked quietly, still avoiding her eyes. “As if you’re too magic to live in the Muggle world because you miss being able to just … cast a quick Lumos in the dark or you would rather apparate than go by bus. But in the magical world, you …”

“You miss having choices?” Mary completed his sentence. “Because Muggles are more flexible about living and letting live?”

He nodded.

She sounded wistful. “The Magical world can feel pretty constricting, especially when you know what life outside is like. I don’t want to be a housewife and mother aged 20.”

His fellow Death Eaters sure would hate the girl for spouting such liberal nonsense. Even Lily had conformed to the Pureblood way of life, what, with marrying Potter after graduation and popping a child instead of making a career for herself. She hadn’t even finished her healer training. There were a couple of witches in the working place, sure. Widows like Amelia Bones, rebels like Nymphadora Tonks, or not-the-marrying-types like Rosmerta.
Proper witches, though, like Narcissa Black or Molly Weasley or Lily Potter, they stayed home and let their husbands be the breadwinners.

With the magical world, there was hardly a difference between 1976 and 1800. That was the problem when generations had such a long lifespan. There was little development, little evolution.

Yeah. Being half wasn’t so great for one’s mental health. It meant you belonged nowhere. Muggle and Magical lifestyles simply did not mix well.

Severus exchanged a meaningful glance with Mary who seemed to understand him all too well. He couldn’t remember having anyone around him as a teenager who would have shared that experience. There were few Halfbloods, let alone Muggleborns in Slytherin.
“Even if the ideology survives,” Severus concluded, “he needs to be stopped.”

The girl nodded.

“It’s not easy, though.” Severus played with the folds of the too-big shirt. “He used some obscure magic to make himself … immortal. I don’t know how many of that thing we fought are out there. I don’t even understand what they are. But they need to be destroyed.”

“And then you’ll face You-Know-Who in a duel to the death?”

Severus gulped. He hadn’t really thought that far ahead, too scary was the notion that his quest would bring him face to face with his murderer once more.
If even Dumbledore hadn’t managed to kill the Dark Lord, how was he supposed to –
One step at a time.
Severus pushed the panic back into the darkest corner of his mind.

His hand was still shaking, though. Hastily, he put it under his right leg to hide it from sight.

“How do you know that he’s immortal?” Mary frowned. “That sounds like a myth to me. Did you hear that in the Slytherin dorm? It sounds like something his fans would spout.”

“You saw it yourself,” he replied harshly. “That was one of the things that tie him to life.”

“Maybe you just misunderstood what we faced. You said yourself you don’t know what that thing was. It could have been a boggart. Or another shape-shifting creature.”

Severus almost snapped at her, but reined himself in, noticing that she seemed insecure rather than mistrustful. The girl simply wished he was wrong. She was afraid of the alternative.

“I am dead-certain that there are more of those things out there and that he can only be killed once all of them are gone.” He lowered his voice. “I could obliviate you … if you prefer to forget.”

She physically drew back, repulsed by his offer. Severus quickly averted his eyes in shame.

“So, how do we find the next Horcrux?” Mary asked carefully, ignoring the unethical proposal as a peace offering.

If only he knew the answer to this question.
Severus sighed from the depth of his heart, and shrugged.

She hummed. “Come on, think. Why was the ring a Horcrux? Why not … I don’t know … that evil chair you knocked me out with.”

He rolled with his eyes at the good-natured jab. “Emotional value, I suppose,” Severus guessed. “Maybe an heirloom from his Pureblood side. It was in the shack, after all.”

“Should we have gone into Riddle Manor, then?” Mary seemed alarmed. “Could he have chosen something that reminded him of his dad as a second Horcrux?”

Severus rubbed his eyes while considering her theory. “Not from the dad. He was Muggle. But something else that he would feel strongly about. That would tie him to his Pureblood heritage. He wouldn’t honor his other half.”

Severus put his head on the table tiredly. Had there been anything the Dark Lord had ever shown positive emotions towards? Certainly not his followers. Even Bella had been subjected to torture, and whilst Severus had shared some rather intimate alone moments with the Dark Lord to treat the man’s frail and often-aching body after his resurrection, there had been no trust between them. The man let nobody close to him.

…

Fuck.

Severus groaned loudly and buried his face in his hands.

“Is your wound acting up again?” Mary asked alarmed.

If only.

“I hate snakes,” was Severus bitter answer, rubbing his now-throbbing temples.

There will come a time, he heard Dumbledore’s warning in his ear from two decades into the future, when Lord Voldemort will seem to fear for the life of his snake.

Bloody brilliant.

Severus felt like laughing from despair. Parselmouth sure tied the Dark Lord to his Pureblood heritage.

Of course, that thrice-damned snake would haunt him even in the afterlife.

Chapter Text

Despite her obvious confusion about their outfits, Mrs Macdonald rushed over to hug her daughter tightly in a hearty welcome-back gesture as soon as she spotted Severus and Mary in the entrance hall of King’s Cross Station. Thankfully, there hadn’t been any delay between their connections, as they had had to take a train from London Paddington to King’s Cross to hide the platform they had originally arrived at.

“You’re both still so pale! Don’t tell me it rained in Brighton and you spent the weekend in front of the TV watching football instead?” Mrs Macdonald’s voice was muffled by the noise of hundreds of people coming and going around them. King’s Cross was as busy as always.

“Nah, the beach was brilliant. We simply wanted to take a group photo with everyone wearing the same outfit. Aren’t the tricots brilliant, mom? They came really cheap. Go, England, I suppose!”

“Oh, what a lovely idea. I’d like to see that picture, too!”

Severus did not feel like sweeping London’s streets for teenagers they could bribe to fabricate said evidence of their fake trip, so he swiftly interjected: “The camera fell down and broke. Sadly, we couldn’t do the group photo in the end.”

“Oh, no! Should I be glad or suspicious that none of you tried any underaged magic to fix it?”

You’ll get all the good stories,” Mary put the interrogation on hold, grabbing her mother’s arm. “but let’s hurry first. We’ll miss our train.”

“You will be alright on your own, Severus?” Politely, he nodded and mumbled his good-byes to the Macdonalds. However, the woman was not quite done with him: “Where did you leave Lily, though? I thought you two lived close to each other.”

“She went off to buy her school books in Diagon while she’s already in London,” Severus fibbed. “We’ll meet up to take the train to Cokeworth in about an hour.”

Quickly, Mary directed her mother’s attention away from Lily by starting to tell an odd holiday story about how one of their Pureblood travel companions had lost his wallet at the beach, then took a bus in the wrong direction after assuring everyone he could find the way on his own, was evicted for dodging the fare, and needed to be picked up from a drying-out cell at midnight after having asked some patrolling officers to cast a point-me spell for him.
Severus already felt annoyed with Steve without ever having met the guy.

If Mary could just lie that unashamedly to all adults, it wouldn’t be so bad that she knew about his target. Unfortunately, she was atrocious at keeping her emotions at bay when it wasn’t family. Severus had no idea how to deal with the combination of her unguarded mind and the critical knowledge she had acquired over the course of the weekend in Hangleton.
Their friendship certainly would not survive an Obliviate.

There was time to deal with that problem later, he assured himself with a sinking feeling in his stomach, as he watched Mary and her mother go up the escalator.

***

Once the Macdonalds were out of sight, Severus sat down on one of the benches and observed the coming and going of the passengers in the entrance hall of King’s Cross. In the middle of the Muggle hubbub, he felt incredibly small and unimportant.
Everybody was in a hurry to enjoy their Sunday afternoon with family and loved ones. The only people who seemed just as lost as Severus were the homeless on their blankets who stared into empty space while waiting for a generous passer-by to throw them a coin or two.

When did one become officially homeless, anyway?
Did it depend on whether you had nowhere to sleep like those guys, or was it more of a feeling of not belonging anywhere?

Even in the darkest of times, Spinner’s End had always been Severus’ home. It had given him respite from school bullies and later from the ugliness of the Wizarding World to which he himself had been contributing in the service of the Dark Lord.
As a teacher, he had kept his childhood home despite preferring his quarters in Hogwarts because it had been his dirty little secret from Dumbledore and Death Eaters alike, until Wormtail had given away his address to Bellatrix and Narcissa. Until that day, Spinner’s End had been the ace up his sleeves. More than once, Severus had imagined himself going to ground in the Muggle world if his prospects of surviving became any worse.

It would have been easy. Thanks to his father’s hatred of all things magical, Severus knew how to get by without a wand. He was used to doing housework, to going by bus, to paying your groceries in pounds.

He hadn’t done a runner in the First War, though. How could he, after endangering Lily by relaying the prophecy to the Dark Lord? Unimaginable. Instead, he had stayed to spy for Dumbledore. To correct a wrong.

The night Dumbledore had called him into his office to inform him about Lily’s death …. when Dumbledore had told him that it still wasn’t over despite his fading Dark Mark on the arm … that he had to remain in Hogwarts to protect Harry bloody Potter … Severus had felt crushed by the weight of his future.
Ten years of his life he had subsequently spent waiting for Lily’s boy to finally enter those damn castle halls. All this time, Hogwarts had never been home to Severus, but rather a prison sentence imposed on him by Dumbledore himself.

He is Hogwarts’ esteemed potions professor, Dumbledore had declared at his trial after the fall of the Dark Lord when Barty Crouch’s crazed hunt for remaining Death Eaters had ended with Severus in an Azkaban holding cell. Spy. Under my oversight. A man I trust with my life.
Being released into Dumbledore’s care hadn’t felt anything like regaining his freedom, though.

Like an idiot, Severus had harboured the hopeful delusion that he would muddle through the second war just as fine as he had gotten through the first one. So he had held onto Spinner’s End. Held onto his escape route.
Finding out Harry Potter had to die? Not the greatest moment in his life. There had been an upside to the hollow realisation that all his efforts to keep the boy alive had been in vain, though. Once Potter and the Dark Lord killed each other, he could finally be free from the messy Wizarding world. He had imagined himself disappearing into the Forbidden Forest while everybody was still busy clearing the battleground.

Destiny had had other plans for him.
Severus rubbed his unblemished neck until he felt the skin throb from the rough contact.

He knew what needed to be done.

For a third time, Severus would not have the luxury to hide away in Spinner’s End until the storm had safely passed.

Walking out of King’s Cross and towards the telephone booth that connected Muggle London to the ministry reminded Severus of following the Dark Lord’s call to the Haunted Shack in his final hour.

***

“Auror department, I said.” Annoyed, Severus repeated his request as the magical quill in front of him stubbornly refused to cooperate. “Brown hair, young. Partner’s name is Liam. Oh, come on. You must be magicked to deal with descriptions without names, right?”

The quill hovered over the paper. With a suffering glance, Severus observed the long queue in front of the only manned reception desk.

Next to him, a wizard corrected his own self-check-in-quill: “No, v! Not f. My name is spelled with a v. No! My name’s not No-vi!”

Severus sighed in defeat and gave his own quill a nasty jab against its feathers: “Fine, you win. Request to see Alastor bloody Moody, and send the message already.”

With a grim face, Severus sat down on the stone bench around the white marble fountain, his corresponding ticket in hand. Number 75.

He really wasn’t looking forward to his admission of guilt. Setting fiendfyre near a Muggle village probably would not be considered a youthful transgression anymore. The Aurors would push for a stricter punishment than a mere written warning not to perform underaged magic again.
On the bright side, he was a first-time offender and nobody had been hurt. The law didn’t allow for his wand to be broken in those instances. Handing himself in rather than waiting to be caught would also work in his favour in case the Aurors put him in front of a judge. He’d probably face a week or two in Azkaban for endangering Muggles.

Severus had calculated the risks, and this was the most efficient way of getting Moody off his back.

The thought of spending any minute, let alone days near dementors made Severus nervous. There weren’t a lot of happy memories to protect his mind from their presence.

If he got really lucky, maybe the Aurors would put him in a holding cell with some Death Eaters. It wouldn’t hurt to use his forced down-time to collect information on the Dark Lord and Nagini’s whereabouts.

He needed to cut this investigation short before the testimony led the Aurors to Frank Bryce. He’d definitely relay their interest in Tom Riddle junior, which was not ideal.

This thought alone kept him on the bench rather than bolting before the Aurors came to get him.
Lesser evil and all that rot.

Maybe it would get him some street cred with the other inmates in Azkaban that he had gotten in trouble with the law twice in a week, once for suspicious behaviour during the attack in Diagon Alley and then for setting fire to a Muggle village three days later. God, he really sounded like a proper thug, didn’t he?

Moody would love him even more than the first time around.

***

It felt like the Auror department kept him waiting for ages as the ministry’s entry hall steadily filled and emptied itself, replacing one visitor for another. By now, it was mid-afternoon, and he had been in the lobby for about an hour.

Was Moody too busy hunting him down to come back to the bloody office?
His father probably would not be a fan of hosting the grumpy Auror for tea.

Nervously, Severus kept tapping his foot on the ground. He was about ready to walk up to the desk and ask the receptionist about his case. The queue in front of her was still daunting, and people would probably listen in to his conversation. Brilliant.

Hey, I was wondering whether you could call on the Auror department. They might be looking for me - No. Just. No.

Excuse me, Miss. I really need to see Moody. Could you give me a badge with which I can use the elevator? I’d rather not discuss my reason publicly. Could he sound shadier? Urgh.

Then, a shadow moved over him.

“About time,” he complained. “No wonder you are atrocious at preventing crime if you take this long to –“
It wasn’t Moody’s scarred face that hovered above him when he looked up from his knees.

The headmaster did not wear his usual, unnecessarily bright-coloured robes. Instead, he had opted for a fashionable but aged grey three-piece suit. His beard was half-hidden inside the formal shirt, making him look less like Father Christmas and more … Muggle-y. For once, those hardened blue eyes seemed entirely focused on the presence rather than preoccupied by other thoughts, as they gleamed at Severus from behind the half-moon spectacles.

“Good morning, sir,” Severus greeted rather dumb-founded by the encounter.

“It is afternoon.” Dumbledore brusquely answered.

The headmaster remained standing in front of him, cutting off all possibilities of a quick dash towards the exit. Severus felt uncomfortably trapped, seeing as that the marble fountain behind him was a solid obstacle.

“Fancy meeting you here. I hope you have nice holidays.” Go away, please.

His lame small talk did not even get him a response.

Then, Severus noticed the dark shine on Dumbledore’s ring finger. His eyes zoomed in on the jewellery, so familiar and yet new.
The fiendfyre had left the ring a charcoal-like appearance, with only the stone in the middle still having ominous translucent streaks to it. The lighting in the lobby made it seem as if there was fog moving inside it.

“Do you like my newest accessory, Mr Snape?”

Severus gulped, tearing his gaze from the former Horcrux to the headmaster’s face. It was bewildering to look at the man who was no longer faking at being a jovial senior. This was the man even the Dark Lord feared. “I don’t like it on your hand,” Severus replied slowly.
It reminded him too much of when Dumbledore’s body had been rotting away in front of him, and it dragged the memory of his fateful promise to the forefront, and …
What was wrong with that man, anyway, that he would decide for the second time to wear this cursed thing? It was ugly as hell, and dangerous.

Dumbledore didn’t seem to appreciate Severus’ remark about the ring, as his eyes narrowed and he pursed his lips.

Suddenly, the headmaster slapped the Daily Prophet into Severus’ lap. It showed a forest entirely ablaze.

Death Eater attack foiled by Aurors
Yesterday night, our heroic Aurors saved the Muggle village of Little Hangleton, Devon, from destruction as Death Eaters had set one of the residences in the nearby forest on fire. The perpetrators fled due to the fast Ministry response before they could put their hateful mark into the sky. “We will bring that scum to justice”, a source from the Auror department promised our reporter. “Targeting helpless Muggles calls for the harshest of punishments.” As reported in last week’s edition, the Wizengamot will vote on the proposed law reform tomorrow. Readers, tell us your opinion – should the ministry go forth with giving caught Death Eaters the Kiss by default without wasting public money on a trial? Summary of the proposed law reform on page 3.

“You’ve made headlines,” Dumbledore commented coldly.

Last time, Crouch’s law reform hadn’t passed by a small number of votes, otherwise even Dumbledore couldn’t have saved Severus’ marked future self. He crushed the newspaper under his fingers. Would the fiendfyre incident sway public opinion and the Wizengamot’s decision? Had he changed the future for the worse? “I am not quite sure what you’re implying, sir. This attack has nothing to do with me.”
Severus looked up challengingly into those ice-cold blue eyes.

“And here I thought you had come to the ministry to explain to the Aurors why your belongings were found in the local inn near the crime scene.”

Severus averted his gaze. “With all due respect, it’s none of your business why I would seek an appointment with the Auror department.”

His attempt to rise from his seat was stopped by Dumbledore pressing him back onto the stone bench with a violent push. There was raw power in the man despite his age. Severus grabbed the edge of the stone bench and dug his fingers into it until they hurt.

“You should be glad Alastor Moody reports to me first.” Dumbledore shooed two visitors away that were sitting next to Severus, so that nobody remained in listening distance. “Your appointment? That’s with me, Mr Snape, seeing as that Alastor has ceded all testimony and evidence related to you to me rather than submitting them to the investigation team.”

Severus bit his lip hard enough to taste blood. So Dumbledore held onto Magick Moste Evile, as well as Mary’s and his clothes. And possibly the memories of the villagers that saw them.

The headmaster was telling him that he had leverage against him.

Regretting every single one of his life choices, Severus replied calmly: “So, is now the time when you invite me into your office, sir?”

“Now is the time,” Dumbledore said, “when I take you home to your father. You have not been charged with anything, so there is no need for you to be at the ministry. I’ll apparate you. Not like you can do that on your own, seeing as you are underaged, right?”

Unsure, that was the adjective Severus would use to describe his inner turmoil. He really did not feel like accompanying the headmaster anywhere. He especially didn’t trust the man to apparate him to Spinner’s End instead of God-knows-where.

The question everything boiled down to was: What did Dumbledore want with him?

Severus wasn’t sure of the answer, and it made him rather nervous to leave for a less public place with less witnesses.

“Where’s Professor Slughorn?” he blurted out. “A head of house is supposed to deal with one’s underaged magic.”

“Horace is busy dealing with one of your classmates. You will have to make due with me.”

Avery was still being held by the ministry, then. Severus’ heartbeat increased. It had been three days since the attack on Diagon Alley. Avery was a minor – what were the Aurors up to? By law, they should have released the boy around the same time they had had to let go of Severus after the attack on Diagon Alley!

Dumbledore grabbed Severus’ arm and forcefully dragged him to his feet before heading towards the exit into Muggle London. The headmaster seemed to trust his common sense not to run, as he was allowed to follow Dumbledore rather than being frog-marched.

The air around them seemed frigid. Severus did not dare talk to the headmaster who hadn’t wasted another glance on him. Silently, they took the telephone booth back into Muggle London.

“I consider you a public danger, Mr Snape,” Dumbledore finally said once they stood in the cramped telephone box in the middle of Whitehall together, the afternoon sun and London street noise filling their ears and eyes as tourists huddled around the government building in the background. “I can see that you are not marked thanks to your rather … patriotic outfit, but this is the second time in a week that you have found yourself near a crime scene. Alastor insisted we investigate your wand but I imagine that you are clever enough not to come to the ministry with damning evidence.”

Severus became acutely aware of his mother’s wand in his jeans pocket. Well, for once Dumbledore was wrong. Severus didn’t feel like he had scored a victory, though.

In an instant, Dumbledore drew his wand, tipping it against Severus’ chest. He did not dare move even an inch. “Coming to the ministry to confess in order to lower the punishment after you have left behind evidence? Ingenious. And quite ruthless.”

That mocking tone … Severus had only heard it once: When he had first cowered in front of Dumbledore to seek protection for Lily and was told that he disgusted the man.

“I didn’t intend for anybody to get hurt,” Severus defended himself. Sure, his appearance in the ministry had been born out of careful deliberation rather than a genuine feeling of guilt, but Dumbledore made it seem like he was a scheming bastard.

“Oh, I know,” the headmaster said almost casually, his wand still touching Severus’ chest. “You were looking for something, and there probably was some magical protection you needed to destroy. Hence the fiendfyre.”

Severus’ heart skipped a beat. “You know about them already?”
In the First War? And he hadn’t acted until way after Potter’s birth?

Dumbledore’s eyes bore into him like a predator, and he could feel the hostile Legilimency bounce against his mental shields. “Know this, Mr Snape. Power is fickle. You would do well not to look for tools to increase your might. Even if your idol may have inspired such interest.” The wand tapped against his chest most insistently. “I advise you to focus on your studies. Otherwise, you might find yourself on the other end of my wand. Neither you nor I would appreciate that particular duel.”

Severus felt distinctly threatened, but instead of cowering in fear, it enraged him. Who was Dumbledore of all people to tell him to go be a good boy? “If you know about those things already, then it should be your job to go after them instead of waiting for others to do the dirty work for you,” he spat, his fist hitting the glass of the telephone booth and cracking it. “But you’re too much of a coward, I know, because it’s sort of personal, because you were his guardian at Hogwarts and you failed him as well as the Wizarding community! Whatever! Just suck it up already and tell me where I can find the bloody snake instead of wasting my time. I can’t believe you think me on his side when I go around looking for those bloody things.”

Dumbledore’s icy face suddenly turned pale at the off-hand comment about his relationship with the Dark Lord, then confused. “Snake?”

Okay, they were not talking about the same things. Severus blanched. “Never mind.”

Dumbledore definitely looked like he did mind the comment a lot, now retreating a half-step. More, the telephone booth didn’t allow. Dumbledore’s gaze fell from his ring to his own drawn wand, then back to the ring, before studying Severus intensely.
Seemingly feeling uncomfortable as the attacker, the man removed his wand from Severus’ chest and put it back into his own pocket, his hand did not stray from it though, but rather shielded it protectively.

“You do not side with Voldemort,” Dumbledore repeated almost pensively, but with a rather dark shadow over his face. “because you prefer to lead rather than follow? Is that why you seek power?”

Severus really had enough problems of his own, thank you. He did not need other people’s issues loaded on him as well. What was it about his own self that seemed to inspire Dumbledore to always think the worst of him?
“Believe what you will. You always do.”

Severus was done with trying to get the man’s approval. Almost 17 years he had been loyal and true and … done what was being asked of him. It hadn’t gotten him anywhere with Dumbledore. Until the end, the man had not entrusted his secrets to him. Not the ones that really mattered.

Dumbledore seemed weirded out by the familiar tone of that particular accusation. Sure, by this point in their lives, Dumbledore had hardly ever spent ten minutes talking to Severus. The only time they had truly been together in a room had been when Dumbledore had warned him not to spill Lupin’s wolfish secret, lest he wanted to find himself thrown out of school.

“Can you truly hold my suspicion against me?” the headmaster finally asked in a quiet voice. “It worries me how easy it was for you to leave behind the ring. It calls to us. It taunts us with the love that we lost. Yet you left it behind because it wasn’t the tool you desired. When I look into your eyes, Mr Snape,” Dumbledore nervously caressed his own wand in his pocket, “I see darkness.”

Geez, thanks.
“I hardly think it’s such a great thing to fall prey to magic. It’s not love that thing gave. It used memories against us.”

The headmaster’s mouth turned upwards in disgust. “Had the stone truly nothing to offer to you? No comfort?”

Did the headmaster, honest to God, serenade him about that dark magical thing the ring had hosted? “Well, if you love its effect so much, you can keep the ring.”

“Yes, you left it behind like rubbish in the burning shack.” Dumbledore’s face turned solemn. “For the sake of protecting life, let me tell you one more thing. That which you truly seek does not reside with the Potter family. They have only the cloak. So leave them be.”

With that, Dumbledore left the booth, leaving Severus completely flabbergasted

Yeah, Severus had not considered the Potters to have a Horcrux, thanks for the useless information. Those Muggle-lovers were hardly in the Dark Lord’s favour.

Outside, the headmaster waited for Severus to join him. There were no remnants of anger on his face, as if the man had scrubbed himself clean of all emotions.

Occlumency.

Oh, well. Not like Severus would have dared to look into the headmaster’s mind.

“Come along now, Mr Snape. For the sake of the wizarding community, let us hope your father has enough sense to ground you for the remaining weeks of the summer holidays.”

Dumbledore held out his hand in an invitation to apparate. However, Severus crossed his arms in refusal. His eyes sprang towards the telephone box, then back to the headmaster. “If you have time to deal with me, you also have the time to free Avery,” Severus demanded in the middle of the Muggle street. To the tourists passing them by, they probably looked like an exasperated grandfather with his moody teenage grandson. “He prevented a bigger massacre in Diagon, and the Aurors keep him locked away like a criminal as a thank you.”

Dumbledore seemed intrigued by his Hufflepuff-like speech. However, there was also an undercurrent of suspicion on the man’s face. “I fear you may be misinformed. Mr Avery is not kept in the holding cell due to an investigation, but rather because nobody of his kin has agreed to collect him. He was deemed a traitor to his blood.”

Oh. Fuck.
Was it wrong that this was the thing Severus truly felt guilty about? Not setting fire to a forest?
“Are there threats against him?” he asked.

Dumbledore inclined his head. “He was disowned. Matters seem to be resolved thanks to Horace’s intervention. Mr Avery, senior that is, values his old teacher’s opinion quite a lot, especially since Horace had a hand in kick-starting his ministry career. In those Pureblood circles, Horace’s name carries more influence than mine, I daresay.”

Severus nodded slowly, for once grateful to his potions professor.

“Are you friends, then? With Mr Avery?” Dumbledore inquired.

Severus almost blurted out a rather unfriendly No way but reined himself in. “I owe him a favour,” he admitted reluctantly. “If …. If my father offered to take him in, would he be released from the ministry’s custody?”

Dumbledore scanned him upside-down. “Do you think it wise to draw the ministry’s attention to you not even an hour after having escaped a stint in Azkaban thanks to my intervention?”

Well, Severus was still on the fence whether he preferred Dumbledore to have all that evidence against him rather than directly getting charged for endangering Muggles. Just because Dumbledore seemed to let him off with a rather direct threat to the face not to venture any further into dark magic, it didn’t mean the man wouldn’t bring his involvement in the incident to the ministry’s attention in the future. Dumbledore could have him sent to Azkaban for a couple of weeks whenever it suited the man.

“The Evanses then,” he suggested. “They will host Avery.”

“I doubt they –“

“I’ll persuade Mr Evans. He likes me.”

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “Persuasive, are you, now, Mr Snape? You do seem to have developed a certain pull.” The man gave him a weird look that almost seemed approving of his scheming. “Very well. I believe our interests align when it comes to young Mr Avery. Your idea to remove him from the eyes of Pureblood society has merit. Just in case not only his father may seek revenge for the Death Eaters captured and killed in the attack on Diagon. After talking to your father about your habit to roam around in the English countryside and use magic despite being underage, let us visit the Evans family to discuss your proposal with them.”

The headmaster once again offered his arm to Severus who finally grabbed it. For a moment, their eyes met in silent acknowledgment. There was definitely no trust between them, but neither considered the other an imminent threat to their plans.

Not yet.

Severus could feel that Dumbledore was acutely aware of him, however. Even while the world disappeared around them to morph into Spinner’s End, the headmaster would not let his eyes stray from Severus even for a second.

Chapter Text

With a collective murmur of “thank you, mom” and “thanks, Mrs Evans”, everybody picked up their spoons. However, Avery merely fiddled with the cutlery rather than digging into the generous portion of steaming potato stew in front of him. He looks like a lost puppy, Severus noted between mouthfuls of broth, the way he stares at the flowery Muggle wallpaper. There was no telling whether it was Avery’s picky palate or the changes in his life that overwhelmed him.
Severus shoved another spoonful of stew into his mouth to keep himself from barking at the boy to stop whining about his situation. It hadn’t even been two hours yet since the Aurors dropped off Avery at the Evans home, and Severus already felt his patience running low.

He really had to control his temper around Avery, though. If he snapped at the boy, Mr and Mrs Evans would probably realize that he had lied to them the day before. During the talk, his main job had been to stress how emotionally connected he felt to that poor teenager, best friend, yada, yada.

There was an odd tension at the table, as Mr and Mrs Evans tried their best to engage the four teenagers in conversation. Especially Mrs Evans switched back and forth between asking Avery questions about his personal life and addressing her two daughters, both of which mostly grunted and shrugged.
Petunia, of course, already disliked the idea of having Severus around, let alone another magical boy. Why can’t I invite Claire for dinner if Lily gets to have two friends over in one day? had been the only full sentence she had spoken since sitting down for lunch.
And Lily? Well, she seemed rather sullen about the situation, although she had agreed to cooperate with Dumbledore’s request fairly quickly the day before. In a gesture of good will, she had even refrained from revealing to her parents that they were now hosting prime-material for the Dark Lord’s Death Eater circle. A fact the headmaster had conveniently forgotten to mention to the Evans family.
It didn’t help the mood at the dining table at all that the sisters would have to share a bedroom until the end of the holidays due to their guest. Still, Severus was impressed by how stoically both girls suffered Avery’s presence. There really was something to be said about Dumbledore’s ability to convince people to trust his judgement.

Severus had expected the Evans parents to accept Avery into their home. They just had that do-gooder gene. He himself had experienced their kindness when they had opened their home to his neglected and mannerless nine-year-old self instead of looking at him like something the cat had dragged in.
He hadn’t expected how easy it would be, though.
Working alongside Dumbledore had been incredible. The man oozed honesty, and even Severus hadn’t picked up any deceitful body language despite recognising the headmaster’s deliberate lies of omission. Avery sounded like a hero in his retelling of the events: “A vulnerable young man” who “courageously stood up against his father and reported the man to the police” because “it was the right thing to do” only to be “left all alone in the Wizarding world, abandoned by his family and disowned by his now-incarcerated father”.

Their arguments had slotted together like puzzle pieces to create a solid reasoning – leaving no doubt that Avery needed help, and there would be nobody but the Evans family to offer it.

The headmaster’s final argument had shattered the last of Mrs Evans’ inner resistance: “I personally will look into finding a permanent home for the boy, but alas, it is short notice and interviewing foster parents, doing the paperwork - that take days, if not weeks. I do believe no child should suffer for their father’s sins. In some ways, our Wizarding world could learn from Muggles. It is not like your social service, they call it, right? Our community is too small for orphanages or state-organised foster care. Instead, the boy has been kept in a holding cell for three days now because there is no one to sign his release papers. It weighs heavily on my mind to keep young Mr Avery in Ministry custody for weeks until a guardian can be found. That is why I was ecstatic when Severus reached out to me with the idea that you, Mr and Mrs Evans, might find it in your heart to open your door. I wish it would not sound this overly-dramatic, but you are the only hope that Mr Avery has of not spending the next weeks without freedom or access to his friends or someone to talk to after being rejected by his family in such a horrible way.”

Of course, Dumbledore had been unkind enough to offer Severus’ services as a mentor of all-things-Muggle to Avery, his best friend. Which meant he was now stuck babysitting the other boy until the end of the holidays.

Well-played, Dumbledore, well-played.

Prior to visiting the Evans house, Dumbledore had taken him home to be chewed out by his father. Tobias Snape, though, had barely reacted to the accusation that he let his son run amok (Why the hell should I care where that boy is?).
So, Dumbledore had, in effect, grounded Severus himself by chaining Avery like dead weight to his ankles. He really would need to check on the other boy daily to make sure he didn’t cause the Evans family any trouble.

There had been a smirk-like twitch to Dumbledore’s lips when he proposed that solution to Mr and Mrs Evans.

Payback, in a way, for the smirk Severus had sported when Dumbledore had talked to Tobias Snape and met a rude, disinterested father who categorically refused to cooperate with authorities, Muggle or wizard.
When he had returned from the Evans house without Dumbledore, Severus had gotten an earful for bringing trouble to Spinner’s End, anyway: The short version was: Sort your shit out yourself, I don’t want no wizard around to waste my time.
Fair enough.

So far, Avery had been on his best behaviour, but Severus had made sure to gift him the most uncomfortable stare from the stairs when the boy was brought into the Evans house by two Aurors shortly before lunch. No harm in reminding the boy to show some manners towards the Muggles. Severus was used to herding uncooperative teenagers, and Avery better not cause him any trouble.

***

Once most plates on the table were empty and Mrs Evans rose from her seat, Severus was quick to suggest: “Ave and I will do the dishes.”

The panicky look on the other Slytherin’s face amused him rather a lot. Dirty grunt work, yes. No house-elves to clean after you. Welcome to Muggle life.

“Thank you, Severus,” Mrs Evans replied with a smile. “Then Lily and I will now head out to the shops.”

Why me Lily mouthed pointedly, trying not to be impolite in front of Avery. However, her mother merely gestured her to follow and got up from the table. The others also dispersed, Petunia storming off into her, well, now her and Lily’s room, and Mr Evans had to leave for the afternoon shift at the office.

As soon as they were alone, Severus grabbed one of the clean rugs in the kitchen and threw it towards Avery. “I wash, you dry.”

The boy held the rug awkwardly like a house-elf that had just been freed and didn’t know what to do with himself. Spending three days in a Ministry holding cell had taken him down a peg. He was slouching and holding himself like a nervous deer. There was barely any pride left in the teenager, although it seemed like he had been kept fed and clothed by the Aurors. He wore a plain white shirt and some black trousers, nothing incredibly expensive or hand-tailored unlike his usual attire.

Severus turned towards the kitchen sink and let in some water.

“Snape, I-“

He stopped the boy before the conversation could turn into anything material. “Get the dishes, will you?”

Severus put some soap into the sink until bubbles covered the rising water surface. He could already feel his skin shrivel as he held his fingers under the stream rushing from the tap.
He loved that about Lily’s house. There was always hot water.

Quietly, Avery put the dirty dishes from the table into the sink, splashing some water on himself and grimacing. “I don’t know how you can stand it. Muggles are such peasants.”

Severus hummed, cleaning one dish after another before handing them to Avery who clumsily struggled through drying them.

The kitchen window was directed at the backyard, and it was such a sunny day. Severus reinforced his Occlumency. A part of him just wanted to enjoy the silence, the non-stress after these tense and fast-paced two weeks.

First, he had died. Then he had researched the Dark Lord, befriended Macdonald, almost blown himself up in the Diagon Alley attack, suffered through an Auror interrogation with Moody, then hiked through the English countryside until he had set fire to a cursed ring in the Dark Lord’s ancestral home. Dumbledore’s threats hadn’t been pleasant, either.
There were still some open leads, and it worried Severus on the one hand, on the other hand …. Right now, it felt good to know that he would not have to fear for his life in the next five minutes.

Being stuck in Cokeworth suddenly felt great.
In the long run, though…

Lucius would demand his pound of flesh for not hunting down Severus who had witnessed the pureblood’s involvement in the Diagon Alley attack.
Dumbledore, too, may have collaborated with him on the Avery matter, but the man severely mistrusted him. Although they had come to a shared agreement that they weren’t on opposite sides right now, he had gotten on the headmaster’s radar. Lovely.
Then, there was the matter of the Dark Lord’s immortality. Severus didn’t know how many of those Horcruxes existed. He didn’t even know what they exactly were, or where to look for them. He had a general idea of how they worked, though: They seemed to store magic, and probably their main purpose was not to use that magic defensively like the ring had done, but to revive their owner.
The procedure was unclear to him, though. For example: Did the Dark Lord not return for so many years because Horcruxes themselves needed that long to activate? Or did you have to do some ritual and they then worked instantaneously?
Those answers did matter. For instance: Could Severus kill the Dark Lord before getting all Horcruxes and then use their down-time to hunt down the rest? Or would killing all of the Dark Lord’s followers resolve the issue, too, even if he missed a Horcrux, because there would be no one left to do the revival ritual then?

Always more questions than answers. With a sigh, Severus rubbed the last plate clean underneath the soapy water surface.

“I don’t think I can deal with that Muggle stuff for weeks,” Avery suddenly whispered while putting the cutlery into the drawer.

“Needs must.”

“I wrote to the others,” the boy revealed. “I asked them to petition for my release. They ignored me.”

Well, Avery had betrayed the cause, so what had the boy expected? A gesture of friendship from Mulciber or Macnair? Really?

“Every sane Pureblood would have ignored you, Ave. It probably was already dangerous for them to receive your owl in the first place. Be happy they didn’t kill it as a statement of loyalty.”

Avery’s eyes watered. “I … I had to use a ministry owl. Flavius hasn’t returned from mom’s. I told her I was sorry straight after I was done with the interrogation and the Aurors said I wasn’t really a prisoner and could go home.”

Ah. Severus didn’t comment. He suspected that it wouldn’t offer the boy any comfort to hear that Muggles preferred letters to bird-carried mail anyway.

“I thought about writing to you, too,” Avery continued, this time there was something akin to defiance in his voice, “but I figured that since you left me to rot in the ministry holding cell after they released you on Friday, you wouldn’t care. After all, we aren’t friends, right?”

Severus pulled the plug to drain the sink. “Let’s be clear, Ave. I don’t owe you anything. You are not entitled to anything from me. You didn’t save me, you didn’t do me a favour. You saved your own father’s skin, nothing more. Better in prison and alive than dead. That was your decision.”

“You manipulated me!” Avery cried out, throwing the soggy rug into Severus’ face. “You fucking manipulated me into going to the Aurors! I thought …. I didn’t know what to do … You said … do you not even care that I am now fucked? That my future is fucked, that I am now stuck at some Mudblood’s house without any money or belongings or anyone I can trust?”

Severus clenched his fists as to not reacted violently to the assault. There was an angry red streak on his cheek where the rug had hit him. “Go cry in the corner for all I care.”

Avery now shed the tears that had been collecting in his eyes. It was ugly, the way he rubbed his shirt sleeves against his face.

“Don’t you realise,” Avery sniffed, hiding his eyes from Severus behind those sleeves. “Don’t you realise that I am nothing without my dad?”

Severus slammed his hand against the kitchen shelf next to Avery’s head which startled the boy into looking up. He was about three inches shorter than Severus. “If you are nothing without your dad,” he said, “stop whining and make an effort to stand on your own feet already. You are almost of age, not a baby.”

“You don’t understand. I don’t have anything. I am poor like a fucking Weasley!”

Severus removed his hand from the kitchen shelf. “Well, they are perfectly happy despite being poor, and they have a house and food and friends, and I think that is something worth striving for. You need to reflect on what you expect from life, Ave. You want a good job? Well, time to study like the rest of us peasants. You got two years until NEWTs.”
Severus exhaled his anger, taking in the pitiful boy in front of him that reminded him so much of the Slytherins that had come to his door, anxious about the war, about what kind of world they would head into after leaving Hogwarts with their degree.
“If you ask for help, Hogwarts will always give it. Remember: Slughorn has always been on our side,” Severus admitted grudgingly. “He won’t carry you like your dad did, but he has connections. Besides, you got weeks stuck here in Cokeworth. Brush up on your school work. I am sure Lily will help you if you admit to her how much you need to forge your own path now that you burned your bridges with the other side.” On a side note, he added: “And don’t call her Mudblood.”

Avery blinked the last tear away, still obviously upset at his miserable situation. “I don’t know what happened to you,” he said. “You never talked this disrespectful to us Purebloods.”

Severus felt like rolling his eyes. Such uppity even in the face of being homeless. “I talk to you like an equal, Ave. All I am saying is that,” he sighed, channelling Mary who had reprimanded him to control the harsh words that were quicker to leave his mouth than his kinder thoughts. His insults had overshadowed the meaning behind his words, to the point that he was upsetting Avery more than helping him. “All I am saying is that you did well,” he praised, breaking the tension between them. “You did the right thing, and I know that wasn’t easy. Have faith, Ave. It can pay off to do the right thing. Maybe not today. But you’ll find a way to bridge over the disadvantages you suffer now. And you’ll come out stronger in the end.”

Maybe. Hopefully.
God. As Mary said… when you talk, Snape, you lie.
Well. In a way, it was the truth Severus wanted to believe in. Would she count that as improvement?

“Let’s hope so,” Avery replied lamely, picking up the rug he had thrown into Severus’ and putting it in the sink.

***

Day Two of Avery’s stay at the Evans house was as unremarkable as the first day. Severus mostly spent his time helping Mrs Evans with household chores to keep himself busy and the conversation time with Avery at a low. The boy mostly sat on the sofa – of course with the feet up like a spoiled brat – and read Lily’s old school books.

Lily herself seemed unsure about the situation, as she would switch between also helping her mother with cleaning and pretending to watch TV from the dining table in the living room while secretly keeping an eye on their house guest on the sofa.

She reminded Severus of an attentive German shepard. Lily seemed totally fixated on Avery as if she expected him to break his role any second and Avada Kedavra her whole family

After the house was spot-less, Severus joined Lily at the table, two cups of tea in hand. She acknowledged him with a weak smile.
Since his return to Cokeworth, Severus and Lily had barely exchanged a word because the Evans home was now filled with one more person, and they just never found a quiet minute.
Swiftly, he placed one of the tea cups in front of his childhood friend. Lily took it up and blew on it, only to burn the tip of her tongue anyway.

“You’re always too impatient,” he smirked, putting his elbows on the table to watch her plight.

“Oh, shut it!” Lily laughed quietly, still touching her sensitive mouth.
Once again, they fell silent, merely watching each other while drinking tea. Severus could tell that Lily’s gaze drifted to Avery from time to time to check that he hadn’t used the distraction to do evil things.

He couldn’t blame Lily. Teenagers were evil creatures. And unlike children, they were sort of capable of scheming.

“Thank you,” he said, not quite sure what he was thankful for the most. Her patience when it came to Avery, a Slytherin in plight who had shown enough malicious intent around Muggleborns in the past years not to deserve her empathy? For keeping up the lie towards Mrs Macdonald about the class trip?
Or for having given his uncouth, ill-mannered self a chance when they had been nine?

Lily’s red strands of hair loosely fell forward over her shoulder as she shrugged.
She really had been pretty. Severus took in her smooth skin, her sharp jaw line which she showed him from the side because she was once again looking towards Avery.
It was a different kind of appreciation he felt. He knew where she would go. What she would become But he also knew who she had been.
“Are you happy?” he asked quietly, startling her.
Lily’s green eyes bore into his. They were full of questions, of life.
Potter’s eyes had been sadder. Less vibrant.

It was odd. He had always compared the son to the mother … now it was as if the future was haunting him rather than the past.

“Are you okay, Sev?”

“Always.” He took a slow sip from the Earl Grey. It was bitter, just the way he liked it. No milk, no sugar. “Are you happy, Lily?”

She hesitated, also taking a sip. “I worry al lot about where our world is heading,” she replied. “I could have been there at Diagon, and the thought scares me. I mean …we’re not safe.” She checked Avery’s position on the couch. “Sometimes, I feel less hopeless, sometimes more… do you think the Purebloods will do the right thing when things get too extreme?”

Severus shook his head. “Ave is an exception. We are heading to war, don’t fool yourself.”

Lily’s green eyes turned angry. “You don’t know that. You just … you always believe the worst of people.”

He averted his gaze. “People rarely surprise one in a good way.”

“Well, you get what you sow,” Lilly whispered.

Their conversation died down as both of them looked over to Avery who was oblivious to their stares. He was deeply engrossed in their second-year potions text book.

“I hope,” Severus broke the silence minutes later, grasping his now-empty tea cup tightly, “that we will get the chance to sit down at this exact table and enjoy a cup of tea in ten years as well.”
Not that his survival was obligatory. Hers was, though.

Lily smiled a sad smile. “I can see it, you and Mary sitting over there. Imagine, you might even have kids by then.”

Time needed to be upheld.

Severus exhaled painfully: “Quite the double-date to look forward to, right? Because you’ll be there with Potter and your kids.” Well, kid. “I saw the letters you exchanged with him since the start of the holidays. Your mom made me take up your clothes into your room earlier. I wasn't snooping. I didn't read them. Anyway... maybe Potter will surprise me in a good way.”

Which James bloody Potter wouldn’t. But that was okay.
It wasn’t about Severus.

His eyes burned as he gave Lily permission to strive for her happiness.
Not that she needed permission.

***

Severus liked to lick his wounds in peace, so he sat alone on a bench in the backyard of the house. It was an even sunnier day than yesterday. There were lots of birds flying around and bees buzzing over Mrs Evans’ flowerbeds. Despite the harsh sunlight, Severus felt cold.

Merely five minutes later, Avery nervously joined him on the bench, his hands clutched in the pockets of his Muggle jeans. The boy was starting to develop a twitchy walk. Hardly a sign that he was integrating himself well into the Evans household.

“No talking,” Severus ordered, closing his eyes to shut out the other boy. Sometimes, he wished humans could just put themselves on stand-by. A break would be nice.

Avery managed not even two minutes of silence. “Shouldn’t we tell those Mu-… Muggles that their water pipe is broken?”

Severus frowned. “What do you mean?”

“The water pipe. It’s splashing water everywhere.”

Severus looked towards where the boy was pointing. Then he sighed. “That’s a sprinkler. Muggles keep their plants alive by watering the garden that way.”

“So it’s supposed to do that?” Avery still seemed suspicious. “Muggles are so weird.”

“Is there nothing you find amazing about Muggles?” Severus asked curiously.

“The TV,” Avery admitted after some thinking. “We only have radio. That’s so boring in comparison. I wish we had TV shows. I watched one set in a hospital with Mrs Evans last night, and there was a really rude doctor. He reminded me of you. He didn’t have any magic and had two sick patients, a married couple. Turns out they were actually siblings and had a genitical disease. I wonder if wizards can have those, too.”

“Genetic,” Severus corrected. “It means it runs in the family.”

Avery hummed. “I think the Malfoys have a genetic disease. They only ever have boys. No girls.”

Severus shrugged. He actually had taken that for granted. “Don’t talk about that at Hogwarts. Purebloods don’t like to be told they are deficient.”

“But maybe wizards and Muggles could help each other fight illnesses.” Avery bit his lips. “There was a preview of today’s episode. Some old guy was talking nonsense, and Mrs Evans said it was dimintia. That it was not treatable. I looked it up today: Maybe wit-sharpening potion could help Muggles with diminitia.”

Severus blinked. It was a more thoughtful suggestion than he would have expected of Avery. Maybe he should have set down his former students and shown them hospital dramas to inspire them about practical uses of potions.

“How did you get Lily to let you off the leash, anyway?” he commented lightly.

“Her sister came home and they are fighting over a hairbrush, I think.”

Severus snorted. Then, he became pensive as he stared at Avery. “You can never go back home, you know that, right?”

The other boy flinched as if he had been punched in the face.

“Do you know that, Ave?”

Looking at his feet, the boy nodded silently.

Severus licked his lips hesitantly: “There is something Dumbledore needs to know. He wanted me to get that information from you. Provided you can keep his interest a secret. Which I think you can manage easily. Right?” He began to whisper. “Do you know anything about the Dark Lord’s pet snake? Does he maybe… send it on missions sometimes? Or keep it in the home of one of his Death Eaters?”

Avery stared at Severus as if he had suddenly grown a second head. “Pet Snake?”

“I know the Dark Lord stays over at his followers' homes. He must have been at your place before, right?”

Avery inclined his head.

“His pet snake. Do you know anything about where he keeps it, or where he sends it. Things like that.”

“I didn’t know he had a pet snake. I mean… he sometimes talks to snakes around the house. But they come and go. He doesn’t really keep them.”

Severus blinked. “Nagini. Have you never heard the name?”

The name got him no reaction whatsoever. Upset, Severus stood up from the bench, walking in circles with his hands crossed. “I don’t understand,” he muttered.

Avery watched him with a confused frown on the forehead. “What does Dumbledore want with the Dark Lord’s snake anyway? And why does he think there is such a thing?”

Severus stopped in his tracks.
“Fuck!” he shouted. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”
He kicked a stone into the grass, relieving some of the tension he felt by hitting it as hard as he could.
What had led him to assume the Dark Lord kept Nagini around? Well, his memories. Memories of the future.
Nagini wasn’t a thing yet, so she wasn’t a Horcrux. Not in 1976.

He had nothing.
No clue. Nothing.

How could he have been so stupid?
Well, everything had fitted together. The Dark Lord would have honored his Pureblood heritage by making a snake his Horcrux, a symbol of his ability to speak to snakes.

“Is there any snake he keeps around?” Severus stopped mid-circling, redirecting his attention to Avery. “Please. Is there any snake he likes to talk to more than the others? Any?”

“No. Not to my knowledge.”

That couldn’t be. That mustn’t be. Severus had no other clue, so there just had to be a snake. It would honor his Slytherin heritage. The snake ….

Oh god.

Severus suddenly bent over, throwing up tea right into Mrs Evans’ flower bed. He was still dry-heaving when Avery kneeled beside him and helplessly hit him on the back.

The boy was also talking to him but Severus ignored the senseless pratter.

There was a snake still around in 1976. One connected to the Dark Lord.
The basilisk in Slytherin’s chamber.

“Are you okay?” Avery asked for the umpteenth time.

Severus looked up into those dim-witted eyes. “I really hate snakes.”

And here he had thought killing Nagini right under the Dark Lord's nose would be nearly impossible. How was he supposed to off a basilisk on his own?

Chapter Text

“Thanks for meeting me here,” Severus greeted Crato with an apologetic nod when the boy stumbled through the entrance door of the dingy pub and came over towards the table in the windowless corner near the bathroom stalls. The teenager treaded carefully, definitely unused to the heavy tobacco smell, the greasy air promising soggy fish and chips, and the general uncleanliness of the Muggle underbelly that was Cokeworth. “As I promised in the letter, drinks are on me.”

“They better be. I almost splinched myself because your chicken scrawl sucks. I read the address wrong.”

“Almost means you didn’t,” Severus replied nonchalantly before pointing towards the empty seat opposite of him.

This was the most he could offer, now that he was sort of grounded by Dumbledore. Cokeworth didn’t have many places where you could be sure not to be overheard as there were street rats everywhere with no home to go to. His house in Spinner’s End was too much of a dump to invite anybody over, and Lily’s house nowadays was overrun by people. Avery certainly had made it his mission to camp out on the sofa in the living room with a school book in hand. Severus and Lily would regularly quiz him on his studies. Progress was slow, but Severus would not complain. It kept Avery occupied.

As Severus had predicted when proposing this meeting through a rent owl of Eeylops Owl Emporium, the pub was nearly deserted this afternoon, seeing as that most of Cokeworth’s time-wasters were busy watching the July Cup horse races on the grainy TV screen at the betting office next door. Even Tobias Snape who disliked not just owls but animals in general didn’t miss the opportunity to put a big chunk of this month’s dole money on the vain notion that he was gifted with the ability to assess which horse out of a bunch of similar-looking horses would run the fastest around the track given it was beaten into submission by a dwarf of a rider in a ridiculously coloured suit.
No, Severus did not consider himself a fan of horse-racing. He had an innate hatred of anything and everything that wasted time and money.

With a raised eyebrow, the brown-haired teenager put the pack of cigarettes and a half-empty glass of beer on a vacant table to make room for himself. The waitress hadn’t bothered with cleaning their table after the previous guests had left, not even when Severus had sat down ten minutes ago.
“Lovely place for a date, Snape. Really.”

“With that attitude,” he warned Crato jokingly, “you get tap water, and nothing else.”

The other boy flipped him off before flopping down on the tattered bar stool. As Severus had suspected from their interactions in a previous life, Crato knew how to dress in public, as he wore white Nike sneakers, a jeans jacket and some Muggle band shirt underneath. He was the modern type of Pureblood. The kind Avery and his ilk frowned upon whole-heartedly.

The waitress that had ignored Severus so far suddenly hurried towards their table to take their order. Annoyed, he watched as the girl wrote down Crato’s request of a soda. She was visibly flustered by the other boy’s charm. He wasn’t smarmy, he wasn’t flirty. Just Hufflepuff nice.
Severus mumbled his way through his own order of a glass of water. He felt somewhat jealous. There was only one year between them – ignoring the messy issue of mental age – but since his return to 1976, nobody had taken Severus seriously so far. Everybody treated him like a kid. His shoulders just weren’t broad enough yet to frame his height in that distinctly masculine way of an adult male.
There was such a difference between a 16- and a 17-year-old boy. And even more so between a 16-year-old body and a 38-year-old one.
Oh, there were perks. He sincerely doubted Dumbledore would have let him off with a slap on the wrist if he had been of age, let alone a fully-developed adult. But having all those restrictions on what he should do, what he mustn’t do, where he shouldn’t be? It sucked.

“Maybe I remember it wrong from Muggle class,” Crato started, focused on the retreating back of the overly friendly waitress, “but shouldn’t they, you know, check our ID first before letting us in?”

Severus snorted. “Believe me, nobody around here actually gives a damn about anything as long as you got money. Not like the coppers care to patrol in this part of town.”

“Got drunk before, then?” Crato’s voice was partly judgemental, partly worried. “Not on your own, I hope.”

“I don’t drink.”
Not even a sip during those frequent occasions that he had felt ill to his stomach in the war after watching torture and murder and brewing illegal stuff that could and would kill the Dark Lord’s enemies.
Drinking yourself into a stupor until you forgot? It had been a tempting thought. Only the image of Tobias Snape had kept him from becoming a drunkard like Black who ran from the consequences of his own life choices. The man had freed himself from his cell in Azkaban only to chain himself to the bottle in Grimmauld Place.
Life sucked, so what? It sucked for everyone. Wallowing in self-pity sure didn't solve any problems.

Crato smirked. “Maybe I should invite you to one of our Hufflepuff parties next school year to get you to loosen up a bit.”

“Please don’t.”

The waitress finally returned with their order before winking at Crato on her way back to her seat behind the bar. There was a scribbled note with some numbers taped to the glass of soda.
A landline. How classy.
Then, Severus remembered that cell phones didn’t exist yet. Sometimes, this time travel thing still gave him whiplash.

Crato frowned before pulling off the note and folding it together.

“It’s her phone number,” Severus blurted out. “She wants you to call her. It’s like talking to someone over the floo network.”

The boy looked back towards Severus with an amused smile on his lips before putting the slip of paper into his jeans pocket. “I know what a phone is.”

Severus hadn’t expected that answer. Hogwarts’ Muggle class was notorious for being outdated and useless.

“I’ve used the phone before, actually,” Crato revealed conversationally while picking apart the cheap paper napkin underneath his drink. “One of my friends is Muggleborn. In the holidays, Ben and I often go to music festivals and stuff.” Crato blinked slowly. “I don’t intend to call her, though. She’s not my type, but I don’t want her to feel embarrassed.”

Hufflepuffs really were goody-two-shoes. Severus sighed before taking a sip from his glass of water. “Suit yourself,” he said before turning more serious. ““Did you bring what I asked for?”

“Thanks for convincingly pretending you’re interested in catching up. My holidays have been great so far apart from almost being blown up in Diagon Alley and spending too much time doing research for an acquaintance I’ve met, like, once.” Crato rolled his eyes good-naturedly, then searched the inner pockets of his jacket before slapping a crumpled parchment on the table. In the empty space on top, the boy had scribbled Most Macabre Monstrosities, edition 25, p. 724.

Severus grimaced as he carefully stroked the page until it was less … crinkly. “How can you treat a book like that? Just how?”

“Easy. I went to Flourish and Blotts, bought the book the shop assistant recommended to me, by the way, hell of an expensive favour, Snape, then I opened the page, and ripped it out. You’re welcome.”

“Heathen,” Severus mumbled while skimming the extract of Most Macabre Monstrosities. “And that’s the only reference you found?”

“Well, besides Fantastic Beasts, but you said you don’t care for that one.”

Well, he didn’t. That was one text book he had gotten his hands on even during his forced down-time in Muggle Cokeworth.
The same day he realised his error concerning Nagini, Severus had trashed his childhood room looking for his own copy of Newt Scamander’s magnum opus. Funnily enough, the book had seen more action in the past week than in the six previous years together. Despite being a school requirement for first-years, no teacher at Hogwarts had ever told them to read a single page of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. First-years didn’t even have Care of Magical Creatures.
Severus had only taken Kettleburn’s class in third year because he figured he would save his mother some money this way, seeing as that he already possessed the book. Well, the joke had been on him. Kettleburn hadn’t used Scamander’s textbook either. The man only believed in the power of action, not words. So, Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them had been busy collecting dust underneath Severus’ bed for six years.

Severus probably wouldn’t have remembered he even owned that copy if Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them hadn’t been the biggest annual insider joke in the teachers’ lounge when the staff met during the summer holidays to finalize the requirement list for first-years.
Each year, Dumbledore would add the title to the list like an afterthought before closing the meeting. Minerva would usually roll her eyes while Filius just shrugged it off. It was the Defence teachers, the eternal newbies, that would be thrown off by the requirements list the most. “What subject is that for?” they would ask, and the staff would gleefully make up stories on how they used it in their classes because Dumbledore expected interdisciplinary lessons for when he came round for inspections (which he didn’t. Ever.).
The new Defence teachers would then scramble out of the staff room as quickly as possible to buy a copy of the book themselves to incorporate it into their already pre-planned lessons.
It had been a ritual, of sorts, to deliberately mess with the new faces. Lockhart, for example, had thought it wise to introduce students to imps in the spirit of interdisciplinary teaching methods. Lupin, as well, had presented his students with a myriad of magical creatures because like the nerd he was, he wanted to present himself well in case Dumbledore came round for a surprise inspection.
Fondly, Severus remembered the sceptical look Umbridge had given him when the staff had played the same prank on her in the summer holidays. “I make the first-years look up what kind of animals they are chopping up,” he had fibbed spontaneously. “It makes it more personal.” Somehow, that sadist lie had gotten him in her good books for the rest of the school year. Minerva had rushed out of the teachers’ lounge so that she wouldn't give the game away by laughing in front of Umbridge. Sadly, the cow hadn’t been interested in getting into Dumbledore’s good books. Severus would have loved to see what insane creature she would have introduced to the students. Dementors, probably.
Dumbledore had probably known what his teachers were up to, but he had never interfered in their tradition.

“Dare I ask why you’re so interested in Basilisks?” Crato played with his glass of soda, caught between curiosity and wariness. “You don’t strike me as a guy who loves creatures. More like the sort who would dissect them for potions ingredients going by your Hogwarts reputation. And you especially don’t strike me as the type of guy who believes in fairytales and hearsay. To my knowledge, Basilisks don’t exist anymore.”

Severus took his time reading the ripped-out page of Most Macabre Monstrosities carefully.

Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and live many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it.

The crowing of a rooster?
Utter rubbish. That wasn’t even a magical being, so why should a Basilisk die from that?
A snake also didn’t have ears.

Severus looked up and pushed the page back towards Crato. “I am merely checking up on an academic hunch.”

The other boy raised his eyebrow.

Grudgingly, Severus elaborated: “I prepared for Care of Magical Creatures classes in sixth year and studied Scamander's Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. There are some things that just don’t make sense in his entry on Basilisks, and I wanted to follow up on that.”

With a nervous glance towards the waitress and the lazy barkeeper, both of whom were paying the two underaged teenagers no attention whatsoever, Severus pulled out his copy. He then turned the book around so that Crato could have a look.

His fellow teachers would have seen the irony in him pouring over Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them all night with a flashlight in one hand, and a pen in the other. The page on Basilisks was barely legible now, with all those underlined parts and comments in between the lines.

“Oh my god, Snape. What kind of benefits do you offer to the teachers? How do they not fail you by default with that handwriting?”

“Stop whining and compare the two entries on Basilisks already.”

The boy would spot it, Severus was sure of it. He remembered Crato’s keen intellect from when they worked on the remedy for Nagini’s venom.

He studied the other boy’s face intensely while the brown-haired teenager skipped from one text about Basilisks to the other. Then, a frown formed on Crato’s forehead.
“That’s oddly specific.”

Severus crossed his arms, as he felt a rush of satisfaction warming his chest. So he wasn’t just imagining things. “I know, right? How does Scamander know the colour of a Basilisk’s eye if the stare itself is deadly, for example? Or that males have a scarlet plume?”

Crato narrowed his eyes, pensively tapping Scamander’s text. “Maybe he bred one. He does reference the toad-chicken egg-thing.”

Severus shook his head. “I doubt it. Take note of the indirect speech. Scamander is very precise in his use of language throughout his book. He quotes Herpo the Foul on the creation of Basilisks because he himself cannot confirm the method.”

“Then he must have met a Basilisk to describe their appearance like that,” Crato concluded, closing the textbook in front of him. “Is that the big academic mystery that got you all excited, Snape? Really?”

“You still don’t see it. The interesting part is: How did Scamander survive looking into those eyes?” Severus raised the question that had bothered him before. “I thought maybe he copied that information from an older text, but you said it yourself. There’s no other recent source on Basilisks other than Most Macabre Monstrosities, and that seems to be ancient. And it doesn’t say anything about gender differences. Or gender in general which renders the toad-chicken egg-thing illogical in itself. Or eye colour. That’s entirely new information added by Scamander on the topic of Basilisks.”

Crato frowned. “Maybe he saw a dead one?”

Severus hummed. He had spent most of the week pouring over Scamander’s text, as he had a rather vested interest in getting as much reliable information on Basilisks as possible. His life could, after all, depend on it. “There’s something else wrong with that entry in Scamander’s book.”

“Because he omits how to kill those things?” Crato suggested. “The other text mentions the rooster. He doesn’t.”

No, that made perfect sense to Severus. On the one hand, he suspected that Scamander only put in reliable information, and that the rooster thing was superstitious rubbish from the Middle Ages without any scientific value whatsoever. On the other hand, Scamander was known to love creatures. He wouldn’t include information on how to kill beasts, no matter how gross or deadly. “What’s the book called?” Severus asked before giving the answer himself. “Fantastic Beasts. And where to find them. Where’s the information where to find Basilisks?”

“Well, you can’t find them. They don’t exist anymore,” Crato interjected.

“I think he’s hiding some information,” Severus finally revealed his theory. “He must have seen at least two Basilisks to find out about gender differences. Two dead ones when nobody has spotted a Basilisk in like, forever? Quite the coincidence. Then there’s the eye colour. I think he not only found a population of live Basilisks, he also found a way to combat their deadly stare.”

Crato huffed before shrugging. “So what? Do you want to write a paper for Kettleburn over the holidays for extra credit or what’s all this about? I sincerely doubt Scamander's gonna tell you where to find Basilisks, especially if he kept that information out of the book to protect them.”

“It's not about the location. Let’s say I have more of an interest in how to stay alive around a Basilisk.”

Crato watched Severus with dawning suspicion, looking at both texts in front of him, then up again. “You already know where to find one of those things, don’t you?”

“Now, you said it yourself. Basilisks don’t exist anymore. It’s just an academic … interest.” Severus blinked innocently at the other boy. He was met with a hard stare.

“You want me to tag along as your apparition-buddy on your holidays quest to talk to Scamander, don’t you? Because I am 17 and you are not. That’s why you’re telling me things.”

Severus chuckled slightly, on one hand feeling caught red-handed, on the other hand impressed by Crato’s ability to connect the dots. “I also think you’re quite competent in combat going by your performance in Diagon Alley,” he assured the other boy. “You’re not just a free ride to me.”

“Combat?” Crato sounded alarmed. “So you also want me to fight a Basilisk for you?”

“That’s a bit far into the future. Let’s take one step after another,” Severus placated the other boy. Although he had an inkling that fighting a gigantic snake on his own probably would be impossible. Not that he wouldn't try.

Crato emptied his soda in one go. “And that was not a no, Snape, so … alright. Cool. Cool.” He raised his hand to get the waitress’ attention. “A Gin Tonic. Make it double,” he ordered, then eyed Severus suspiciously. “You pay for the second round, too,” he demanded. “That’s an advance fee for my services.”

As the waitress walked away to get the Gin Tonic, Crato sighed loudly before rubbing his chin stubble. “Tell me one good reason why I should go Basilisk-hunting with you during my last summer holidays of freedom before I have to become a responsible adult after the NEWTs.”

“You could become famous for developing an anti-venom,” Severus suggested. “That might come in handy.”

“Why? Do you intend to get bitten?” Crato snorted. “Developing an anti-venom for a magical creature that officially doesn’t exist anymore. That’s your pitch to get me interested in your quest?”

“… Yep.”

Crato chuckled quietly. “You do realise you are a madman, Snape, right?”

Severus replied unfazed: “I have been called worse.”

“Yeah,” Crato exhaled, before smiling at him in that charming, completely inoffensive way, “I can imagine.”

Chapter Text

Severus felt his brain cells dying while he tried his hardest to follow the poorly-scripted and over-acted hospital drama with its plethora of past and present relations between the staff. On the one hand, he really didn’t care who slept with chief doctor What’s-His-Name or lusted after Blond-Nurse-2, on the other hand, it irked him not to get the references that made the other two whistle in praise or insult the screen with language foul enough to make even a pirate blush.
If he had to rate the show …. well, no sane person would ask Severus for his honest opinion on trash like that.

At least, it filled the time until Crato’s arrival.

After breakfast, Mrs Evans and Avery had retired to the living room to watch their favourite medical drama – not even the early hours could stop them as Avery had expertly switched on the Evanses’ brand-new video recorder, rewound the tape and started his favourite episode.
Since joining the two on the sofa, Severus had already watched a patient slowly die from cancer until there was nothing left of the person other than skin and bones. That had transitioned into the episode with the failed heart transplant. Uplifting start into the day.
It seemed like this torture would never end, especially considering the collector’s box next to the bulky TV with its grainy colour saturation.
In this episode, a person’s blood needed to be cleaned because of some rare infection, so they were pumping the patient literally dry.

“When did you say your friend would pick you up?”, asked Mrs Evans during an especially gory surgery. Someone on set really had had fun cutting into an animal cadaver to make the scene look real. Severus felt the urge to shield Avery’s eyes with his hands. Lily had made the right decision when she had hurried up the stairs and shouted call me when lunch is ready as soon as her mother moved to the sofa.

“Ten.”

Avery had both of his feet on the sofa, and his hands were slung around his knees as he stared at the screen in utter fascination. His teeth constantly bit down on his lips.
One week in a Muggle home, and Avery had already become addicted to the TV. And here Severus had thought the one good thing about time travel was the lack of students whining about how Hogwarts didn’t have any electricity.

“I didn’t even know you had friends,” Avery added to the conversation. “You’re really whoring yourself out lately.”

Severus merely rolled with his eyes. “You will be okay without me for the day?”

“Of course, I will,” Avery said with a pout. “I am totally fine with living like a Mud- … Muggle.”

“I wasn’t talking to you.”

Mrs Evans shushed them with an exasperated smile on her lips. “Avilius and I will be just fine, Severus. We might even go shopping for some swimming trunks. Which reminds me: Do you need some, too?”

“I’ll be fine,” he interjected quickly.
Severus would not prance around half-naked in front of the Evans girls or anyone else for that matter. Spending Friday afternoon at the crowded community pool full of misbehaving children and chatty seniors was torture enough.

“One could think Mr Allister hadn’t taught you how to swim,” Mrs Evans goaded him without any ill intention behind her words. “God rest his grumpy soul.”

“He did his job just fine,” Severus defended the moody ex-boxer-turned-teacher. “Swimming’s not for having fun. You can drown even in shallow water if you get a cramp or over-estimate your stamina.”
The primary school teacher’s main training method had been to throw the first-graders into the deep end of the pool to fend for themselves. It hadn’t been the most enjoyable learning experience to splash-crawl yourself to safety but they all had mastered how to stay afloat in a rather short timeframe.
Children learned best when they actively saw use in acquiring a skill.
Had Severus maybe threatened to poison idiotic students’ pets to get the point across that, yes, you did need to be able to brew antidotes yourself rather than to rely on having a bought one lying around?
Well, guilty as charged.
Maybe it wasn’t the hottest teaching method on the market, but it had worked on himself just fine.

Avery added haughtily: “We wizards actually don’t need to learn how to swim. There are spells to keep you afloat.”

“Magic is not an acceptable solution in public,” Mrs Evans reminded the boy. “I am sure Severus will teach you how to swim at the pool. Even if he himself refuses to go in.” She threw him a pointed glance. “Or Lils or Tuney can do it.”

Severus began to smirk. Now, there was finally some entertainment to look forward to on that blasted family trip to the pool. Avery spotted his overly pleased facial expression and threw the box set at him.

Mrs Evans interrupted their childish display by taking the box set out of Severus’ hand to rescue it before it could be thrown back against Avery’s head. “Oh, Severus, dear! Where did you say you and your friend were going? I hope there’s some shade, it’s such a sunny day.”

“We got tickets to the London Zoo,” he muttered and ignored the strange glances. That was hardly the worst cover story he had had to defend in the past weeks. “I should be back by dinner.”

“Are you sure you’re dating that Macdonald girl and not this guy?” Avery asked with a smirk.

Before Severus could retaliate, the doorbell finally rang.

“Enjoy yourself!” Mrs Evans patted his elbow. “It’s nice to see you take some time for yourself. You’ve been holed up here with us for the past week.”

Severus acknowledged her kindness with a nod before grabbing the heavy bag off the floor. He didn’t know what to expect from this trip, so he had packed a plastic bottle of water, two protein bars, his copy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, as well as some Muggle and Wizard money.
His mother’s wand dug into his back as a reminder to be better safe than sorry.
Constant vigilance.

***

“You’re absolutely rubbish at apparating,” Severus commented after losing his balance, tumbling three steps forward and then crashing into a Muggle wheelie bin. Crato himself had fallen face-first onto the asphalt. Thank god, there was no traffic on the rural street.

“Everyone’s a critic,” was the gruff response from the ground. “I’ve never transported a second person.”

“Yeah. I can tell.” Severus held his stomach to keep the nausea at bay. Then, he reached out his hand to help Crato back onto his feet. “Are we even anywhere close to 52 Greenfern Road?”

Crato had landed them in front of a cottage with a white fence around its property. There was a family van parked near the house, and a children’s swing gentle moved in the wind. Behind them, there was a wheat field.
Oh, joy. First Exeter, now Dorset. Severus hadn’t thought tramping through the English countryside would become a thing. Fighting the Dark Lord sounded much more exciting than it actually was.

“Number 50. I wasn’t that far off,” Crato defended his apparating skills as he read the mail box inscription.

The sun above them was unbearable as the two boys headed down the narrow road, hoping that they were moving in the right direction. There was no way to tell.

“We’re close to the sea.” Crato held his head into the air and sniffed. “It’s pretty out here. When I am old, I also want to live somewhere like this.”

“With a wife, two kids, and a pet crup?” Severus couldn’t stop himself from commenting sarcastically.

Crato eyed him from the side as they both made their way up a small hill. “You don’t really know a lot about me, do you?”

Finally, the next cottage could be spotted. It was surrounded by enclosures with hundreds of sheep.

“Why? Are you a kneazle person instead? No crup for you?”

That got him a smile. “Diva would never share my attention with another pet.” Crato’s breathing got deeper, and Severus noticed that his body, too, was struggling under the summer sun. There wasn’t a single cloud in the sky. “What about you? What’s your dream other than becoming serpent-slayer of the century?”

A dream. Severus didn’t have something like that. He probably should make us some rubbish about marrying Mary, his girlfriend. Severus didn’t feel like lying to Crato, though. “I suppose living out here would be okay. With nobody to bother me and some peace and quiet.”

Crato snorted. “You do hear yourself talk, right?”

“Why?”

“You’d be bored to death, Snape. I mean, your idea of a great summer vacation is to fight a murderous snake. And when you see Death Eaters, you run towards them rather than for the hills like a sane person.”

“I don’t enjoy doing these things,” he defended himself put-out. “It’s just that someone has to do it.”

Crato smirked at him from the side. There was sweat running down his forehead, and his brown hair that usually stood tall was now a wet mess. “It’s sort of funny, you know. You’re like the bravest and smartest guy I’ve ever met. Not the most cunning, though.”

What was that supposed to mean? As a Slytherin and former Head of House, Severus felt rather insulted. “I am cunning,” he argued. “I got you to accompany on this trip. You’re not getting anything out of it, and yet you’re here.”

Crato held his stomach from outright laughter. “That,” he said, “was not cunning what you did in that bar yesterday. Any other person would have said are you nuts and walked out on you. Snape, I am here because I find you amusing. Not because you tricked me into it. Sorry to burst your bubble.”

Huh.
Severus frowned as he tried to put together the puzzle pieces. “What about our past interactions has been amusing to you?”

That earned him a fond smile. “Your face right now, for example.”

***

52 Greenfern Road was a small cottage with two stories and white curtains all around. The pale-blue paint of the façade softly shimmered in the July sun, and Severus observed the empty paddocks next to it. To the Muggles, this must seem like any other of the farming houses they had passed. However, he could feel the tingle of a concealment magic that hugged the property like a warm blanket.

The red mailbox was stuffed to the brim, and he could spot the name “Scamander” on some of the envelopes.

“There’s something over there, isn’t it?” Crato whispered in his ear.

“Yes, I can feel it, too.”

Together, they walked up to the entrance door. For a second, it felt as if something brushed against Severus neck when they passed the paddock closest to the house, but there was no touch. Merely warm air like a breath.

The ringing of the bell got them two things: An excited four-legged thing scratching against the door from inside of the house, and a female voice that told them that she was coming.

His wife Porpentina, Severus reminded himself. He had studied up on the man in advance to this visit.

“Back off, Monster!”

The boys looked at each other alarmed.
There was a sharp cat-like hiss, then the door swung open.

Porpentina Scamander seemed like a stern lady who knew what she liked, and especially what she didn’t like in other people. Based on his notes, she had to be 75 years old, but she didn’t look her age. Yes, there were lines on her neck and on her cheeks, but they seemed to be half-formed by stress, half-formed by joy. As if her life had taken a turn for the better mid-way. Her hair reached over her ears but not to her shoulders, and it was completely grey. On her arm, she carried a mongrel of a kneazle. The black thing had only one eye, and the tail definitely shouldn’t look this jagged. Silvery scars peppered its dark fur. As a greeting, the kneazle put forward its paw and showed Severus its razor-sharp teeth.
“You are not the postman.”

“We’d like to speak to your husband, Mrs Scamander.” Severus tried to catch a glimpse of the inside of the house without the woman noticing his interest. “It’s about his book.”

The woman sighed as if this happened all the time. “Do you have an appointment?” Then, she shook her head. “Of course, you don’t, otherwise you would have met Newt in the city.”
The kneazle bit her in the arm but she seemed immune to the attack. There were lots of scratch marks on her skin. “Earlier in, earlier out. Come in, then.”

Silently, Severus followed the woman inside. The hallway was full of knickknacks like tribe masks and hand-painted vases. Pictures of creatures littered the walls. Some had a plaque underneath, with a name and a death date engraved.
“Are those hippogriffs?” Crato asked. “I didn’t know they could have stripes and spots.”

“My mother-in-law was a famous breeder.”

“Amazing!” Crato didn’t really pay attention anymore as he walked from one picture to the next, taking in the creatures. “Is this your husband with that Abraxan foal?”

“He was rather proud of Aurelia. She was a nightmare foal, if you ask me. It didn’t help that the neighbours thought Newt to be a drunkard, what, with how much Single Malt Whiskey we ordered to keep her fed. The ministry actually asked us to take Aurelia in. Her mother had been killed by poachers for her wings. They are quite popular as trophies.”

Crato made a disapproving sound as he walked into the living room, still fascinated by the memories on the walls. Mrs Scamander and he exchanged some more stories while Severus awkwardly sat down at the table.

There was an open kitchen connected to the living room. In the sink, there were some dishes which moved themselves through the water, only to be cleaned by a levitating cloth. That was the first sign of magic. Severus let his gaze roam freely. Behind the flower pots, there were two, no, three bowtruckles watching him with fear in their eyes. It was as if they played peek-a-boo with him, because once they noticed him looking, they rushed behind the pot, only to come back out a couple of seconds later to check whether he was gone.
Tiny wooden sticks with leaves on their head. That was the sort of creature he was comfortable with.

Suddenly, the black warrior cat sprang off Mrs Scamander’s arm and onto the table, so that it hissed right into Severus’ face.

“Oh, Monster, stop that!” the woman scolded the kneazle.

“It’s called Monster?” Severus asked incredulously.

“I insisted on that name. Newt calls her Lady. You can go for whatever, she doesn’t listen anyway.”

“She’s brilliant!” Crato declared, throwing himself in the empty seat and putting his hand on the table, so that the kneazle tried to scratch him, only to pull his hand away. Then he repeated the game, again and again.

“Humphrey,” Mrs Scamander called, and an adult niffler came running from the kitchen, a silvery spoon in its beak-like mouth. The thing reminded Severus of a hybrid between a mole and a platypus. “Go tell Newt to come up to the house, please.”
With a squeak, the niffler took off through the window.
“Can I get you boys something to drink?”

“Water, thank you.”

“And some milk for the lil’ monster, right?” Crato added, now play-touching the black kneazle on its head only for it to try biting him. For some reason, the bastard thing began to purr. Severus put a couple of inches between himself and Crato’s chair.

“So, what brings you to our home?” was Mrs Scamander’s first question once she had put a glass of water in front of each of her two guests. The kneazle meanwhile lapped milk from a bowl near the table, but it stared at Severus as if to promise him death once it had finished.

“An academic question that arose while I read Fantastic Beasts.”

“People usually send letters for those. Especially the poachers and breeders. Or incapable ministry officials.” Severus looked up from the kneazle with which he had held a staring contest so far. He had been too preoccupied to notice the intense gaze Mrs Scamander was sending his way. American ex-auror, he reminded himself. Not a woman to be underestimated. Probably way more dangerous with a wand than her husband.

“I’ll discuss business with Mr Scamander if you don’t mind.”

She narrowed her eyes dangerously “Newt and I work together on his research. Your question can be answered by me as well, I bet.”

Crato interrupted them with a placating gesture: “My friend’s not good at explaining. His question could be seen as … delicate? And he knows that your husband will have to talk to him because he won’t give just anyone the answer. It has something to do with, uh, exterminating a dangerous creature.”

“We don’t deal in that sort of thing.” She was so upset that her American accent broke through.

“That’s why I would like to explain my position to your husband,” Severus said. “I am sure we will come to an understanding that is mutually beneficial.”

“He doesn’t mean he’s going to attack you gangster-style,” Crato interjected, reading the mood way better than Severus did. “He’s actually not even of age, so not the dark overlord he sounds like. My friend’s just really bad at communicating with normal people.”

Severus threw the other boy a nasty glare.

“That is something I can relate to,” a soft male voice stated from the hallway.

Unlike his wife, Newt Scamander looked exactly his age. His knees were beginning to buckle under his 80 years, so he was slightly bending over and dependent on a cane. His hair was thinning out, although it was still somewhat brown rather than grey, and he had wrinkly hands. Moles mottled his arms, a keepsake of decades of hard work outdoors with his creatures. He wore a plain white shirt with sweat stains under his arm pits, and rugged jeans. Newt Scamander’s eyes were rather awake, in contrast to his physical tiredness.

“You know how to deal with humans. You just don’t want to,” his wife ripped into her husband good-naturedly.
She stood up, kissed him on the cheek, and Severus was sure she also whispered something into his ear but he couldn’t catch the words.

Aided by the cane, Newt Scamander made his way towards the table and sighed in relief when his back hit the chair. Mrs Scamander brought him a small stool, on which he put his left leg.
“An introduction would be a good idea, I believe.”

Mrs Scamander brought her husband a cup of tea before taking a seat on the couch. The table didn’t hold room for another person.

“My name’s Severus Snape. I’m a student at Hogwarts. And that’s Hippocrates Smethwyck. You might know his family, they’re healers.” No use in lying, especially since Crato would probably mess everything up by calling him the wrong name. “I am here because I think you might know more about Basilisks than what you put in your book.”

Newt Scamander didn’t even blink. He merely crossed his arms.

Severus gulped nervously while Crato started to play with the kneazle again. “I believe you might know of a method to combat their deadly eyes. You’re the only source that states the eye colour of a Basilisk, after all.”

Still no reaction. Looking into Newt Scamander’s eyes was like a staring contest with a Hippogriff.

Severus wet his lips. “Could you give me more information on that topic?”

“What do you want to do with that information?”

Next to him, Monster began to purr as it had decided that Crato was allowed to pet it behind its ears.

“Stay alive when I fight a Basilisk. That’s sort of my main goal.” Severus exhaled. He slowly gazed towards Crato, towards Mrs Scamander, then to Newt. Time to spill a part-truth. He wouldn’t be getting anywhere without showing at least some of his cards. The man was unlikely to accept a private discussion.
“You went to Hogwarts, right?” No answer. “You know about the Chamber of Secrets. The one hidden in Hogwarts by Salazar Slytherin. There’s a Basilisk in there, and it killed that girl in 1943. It could kill again.”

“Ow!” Crato held his bleeding thumb as he hadn’t been paying attention to Monster for a second. He, too, had been startled by Severus’ revelation.

“I am so sorry!” Mrs Scamander jumped up to get a band-aid but Crato stopped her. “It’s fine. My owl always bites me way harder.”

During their exchange, Newt Scamander had been staring holes into Severus’ eyes. Even without a conscious read, he received wisps of thoughts. Suspicion, mostly. Fear, too, but not of Severus. Regret. The one word Severus didn’t like was Dumbledore. Like a ghost, it returned to Scamander’s brain over and over again.

Severus narrowed his eyes, which increased Scamander’s suspicion tenfold. There was something like … recognition in that mind. As if the man suddenly had a revelation about Severus.

“You don’t want me to tell Albus,” he stated as if to prove his theory. Severus grimaced. “Give me two reasons why I shouldn’t tell the headmaster there’s a deadly snake hiding in his school.”

“Two is a bit much,” Severus tried to buy time.

Scamander raised one eyebrow.

“First of all, he’s busy fighting You-Know-Who, and the wizarding world cannot afford him to be distracted. And secondly, there’s no proof, so he won’t follow up on it anyway. Besides, he doesn’t know how to get into the Chamber.”

“And you do?”

Severus was about to lie, but reconsidered. “Not yet. I am good at working things out, though.”

Scamander took him in from head to toe, in his ratty clothes, his not-yet-adult body. Then, he scanned Crato who was avidly listening to their conversation while stroking the bloodthirsty kneazle.

“I didn’t finish my morning round. Walk with me or leave. Your choice.”

The man got up on his feet and had a wordless conversation with his wife who seemed upset but trusted him to dictate their next actions.
Likewise, Severus nodded towards Crato.

He didn’t really have a choice. Nobody but Scamander knew how to deal with Basilisks, after all. Grumpily, he got up, followed by Crato who, however, was held back by Mrs Scamander. “I’ll borrow this one. You seem strong. There are some boxes I need from the attic.”

Crato looked towards Severus, who shrugged with a sinking heart. It was clear that the Scamanders were separating them.
Choice. Yeah, whatever.
In truth, the couple held all the cards.

***

Newt Scamander led Severus outside through the backdoor, which lifted the concealment spell that previously had kept the guests unaware of the menagerie around them. The paddocks, once empty, suddenly were full of hippogriffs, of giant Abraxans roaming the meadows, of weird creatures that looked too foreign to belong to this continent. One had a trunk like an elephant, but the body of a rhino.
Severus followed the man ill at ease. That was the perfect place to die accidentally. He wasn’t so sure if he trusted Newt Scamander with his frail body to keep those things in check.

“Mr Snape, right? We’ll start with the hippogriffs. They haven’t been fed yet. Get the bucket over there.”

Severus let himself be treated like a house elf by Newt Scamander. The bucket was full of dead chicks, probably hatched mere days ago. Dutifully, he carried it towards the Hippogriff enclosure which housed seven animals. All of them stared hungrily at him, greeting Newt Scamander with a sharp shriek. They came running towards them, only stopping three yards from the fencing. The ground still vibrated from their gallop.

“They are magnificent, aren’t they?”

Severus hummed half-heartedly.

“They are very proud creatures, indeed. Have you ever seen one that was insulted by a human, Mr Snape? They are rather peaceful unless provoked. Their talons can decapitate a human in one slice. There’s so much power in their feet, and even more so in their wings. Despite how frail they look, hippogriffs can carry up to two adults easily. Many end up in circuses, and children ride them for fun. You need the right sort of character to take such abuse because usually, they only allow humans on their back that they respect. Griffs that were too proud or rebellious would be deemed a danger and put down. That’s how you breed them to be more docile until they forget who they are. The ones you see in this paddock are rescues. The ministry confiscated them. I am trying to let them be hippogriffs again. They are never forced to accept anyone onto their back unless they invite it.”

Scamander came to a halt and put his weight on the cane while looking into the eyes of a chestnut-coloured hippogriff, before the creature quickly bowed to him. Then, they exchanged a friendly push, animal head to human chest.

“Give Rowan a treat, would you? He’s always so patient with me. He knows I can’t bow anymore.”

Severus grabbed one of the cadavers and threw it towards the hippogriff. The thing caught the chick out of the air and gulped it down in one go.
Disgusting.

“About the Basilisks-“ Severus tried again but was cut off.

“I always told Albus that it wasn’t a giant spider that attacked that poor girl.”

Startled by the change in topic, Severus looked up.

Scamander, however, was already hugging another Hippogriff, rather than paying attention to his guest.

“Don’t forget to feed them, Mr Snape.”

Grudgingly, he threw the chicks into the enclosure, one after the other.
Once he was done, Scamander started to walk towards the next paddock.

“What should I do with the empty bucket?”

“You’ll need to fill it with water for the Abraxans.”

Lovely.
Severus sighed and heaved the metal bucket back towards the cottage to fill it before returning to Scamander’s side. The sun was still burning down on them, and by now, his own shirt was just as drenched in sweat as Scamander had been from the start.

Only when Severus slipped under the fence into the enclosure to fill the trough did Scamander continue talking: “It is not publicly known but the ministry consulted me on the case.” The elephant-sized winged horses crowded around Severus, who nervously tried to put distance between his feet and their hooves. “When they found that poor girl in the bathroom in 1943. I … “ he sighed. “Long story cut short. Headmaster Dippet didn’t trust my judgement. He believed me compromised, as I had originally reported the Acromantula egg missing that was later found hatched in one of the student’s rooms. Headmaster Dippet believed me to have sold it and to be partly at fault for that girl’s death. I would never sell a creature! Never. However, my claim that Acromantula venom could not have killed that poor girl, it was dismissed because of my entanglement.”

Severus’ head exploded with the information. “You knew it was a Basilisk, then?”

Newt smiled sadly while petting a petite Abraxan mare. “I had my suspicions. However, the incidents in Hogwarts stopped after they apprehended a student,” Hagrid, Severus supplied the name in his mind, “so what difference would it have made to bring that up? Later, Albus became headmaster. He would have believed me but by then, the Basilisk probably had left the castle already. You are the first person to ever raise doubt over the identity of the creature, let alone the first to share my suspicion.”

“It’s not gone, though. Just dormant.” Severus’ voice turned more insistent. “It needs to be exterminated.”

Newt Scamander once again appraised Severus from head to toe. “How old are you if I may ask?”

“16.”

“Your eyes seem older. But I suppose that’s because they see so much more.”

Severus blinked in confusion. “What do you mean?”

Scamander softly grabbed Severus’ chin and lowered it so that their gaze met.
I have seen eyes like yours before.

Severus shuddered as he took in Scamander’s projected thought.

“Tina’s sister has the same gift,” Scamander explained. “To her, it sometimes was more of a burden, though.”

“She lost the ability?” Severus asked in alarm.

Scamander nodded slowly. “It went with her eye sight. There are, of course, ways to fix it. Muggle and wizard. She has decided that she has seen enough of the world.” He sighed. “Queenie prefers to look inward now that she’s a widow. Her husband was a Muggle, not gifted with our lifespan. He died three years ago.”

“He’s gone,” Severus said pointedly. “I don’t understand how she could cripple herself like that. Sacrificing her sight won’t change anything.”

“Have you never done something illogical born out of deep emotions? Grief, love, anger, fear. Be it human or creature, we all feel those and are capable of the most selfish as well as self-sacrificing actions.”
Severus picked up images from Scamander’s thoughts. Of a cow-deer-creature with scaly skin engulfed in green light, its dying body falling on top its new-born twin calves. Of a tiny Abraxan foal helped up by its mother’s muzzle, of a niffler jumping in front of Scamander to take a red spell to the chest. A gigantic bird flying over a city, bringing rain to ease people’s pain and spread welcome oblivion.
“In my experience, Mr Snape, humans lean more on the selfish side.”

Scamander turned his back on the Abraxans. “There are two more we need to feed. They become rather fussy if they do not get something before noon.”

“I don’t suppose they’re Basilisks,” Severus mumbled.

Newt Scamander let out a deep laugh that ended with him coughing.

The trip was weirding Severus out. It was as if everything Scamander did had him on the wrong foot. The man was leading him, and Severus felt utterly out of control.

***

To Severus’ confusion, Scamander led him back indoors before heading into the basement. There was nothing in that room other than a desk with a closed brown suitcase on it.
“Youngsters first,” Scamander said, opening the suitcase.

A ladder continued downstairs into a magical space. Severus hesitantly followed the invitation, climbing into the suitcase. It reminded him of the first time he had used the floo network or walked into the barrier between platform 9 and 10 at King’s Cross Station.

The room itself seemed normal in comparison to the weird location. It was full of drawings of creatures, and books on creatures, and … bowtruckles. Hidden everywhere.
“They breed rather quickly,” Scamander excused the over-population once he landed with a groan on the floor. “I really need to buy that levitating chair thing they always talk about on the radio.”

“Where are we?”

“It’s a magical reserve. I’ve reduced the number of creatures I care for, but in my heyday, I would travel a lot, and many animals do not do well outside specific climate zones. In here, you will find a bit of everything, be it jungle or desert. There are only two stragglers left. I must confess I would like them to move out, too. Making my way downstairs three times a day is exhausting.”

Scamander got out a small box from his jeans pocket, then enlarged it with his wand. With a sigh, Severus grabbed it, already used to being considered the muscle on their operation. The box smelled fruity. It raised his hope that the next creatures would be of a more acceptable size.

Silently, they made their way through different areas, all of which were abandoned, be it a lake the size of Hogwarts’ Great Lake, or a cave that should definitely host bats.

At the end of the cave, there were two doors. Newt turned around, again taking in Severus head to toe.
Why did the man do that every couple of minutes?
Severus refrained from reading the man’s mind, although that behavior bugged him.

Then, with a sudden jerk, Scamander chose the left door. There was a silvery-white veil they had to cross. It felt like moving through a spider’s net, then Severus found himself shivering in shock. They stood in the middle of a snow desert, and there was only darkness other than the glimmering white veil surrounding the room and illuminating the snow. Severus broke out in goose-bumps and hugged the box tightly against his chest, putting his head closer to his body to preserve warmth.

Scamander walked across the snow desert, not paying his guest any attention.

The man was insufferable.

Quickly, Severus followed, feeling out of breath due to icy air filling his lungs. His hands stung from exposure to the cold.

Then, a black mass came in sight. There was a translucent roundish ball around it, and in the middle of the fluid-like black thing, there was a white light that reminded Severus of a weak Patronus.
He rather heard than felt the box falling out of his hands. Some apples and bananas were strewn around his feet as he approached the mass. Whispers filled his ear, dared him to touch…
Scamander’s arm hit him like a barrier. The man had put his hand out to stop any further advancement.

“What is that?” Severus whispered. Because one thing was clear. Whatever that …. thing …. was, it was something special.
And dangerous.

“Obscuri.” Scamander’s voice wavered for the first time. It lacked the distinct love it held for that weird menagerie he had been introducing to Severus before. The man got out his wand and raised it towards the black mass. “Diffindo.”
Suddenly, there were two masses, both of them patiently remaining in their place.
To Severus, they felt like wild dogs waiting to attack their prey.

“Are they … alive?”

Newt threw him a pensive glance. “Does that matter to you? Whether they are alive or not?”

Yes. Yes it did matter whether those things were capable of thought and would attack. Severus took another gulp of the cold air.

Scamander just sighed, putting his wand back into his pocket. “They are parasites who inhabit children repressing their magic. It’s a deadly illness, Mr Snape, one with no known cure. An Obscurus will erupt from a child once it has fed enough, killing its host.”

Lovely.
Just lovely.

“I suppose they are not the creatures we brought the apples for,” he whispered harshly. Severus backed off two steps. That was not something he wanted to get infected with.

“I would not classify Obscuri as creatures. They are an added bonus on our way to the real stars,” Newt joked grimly. His face was hardened by anguish and sadness.

“They have different …. voices,” Severus noted. “Male and female?”

Newt hummed. “The one on the left is from a Sudanese girl. I tried to save her by extracting her Obscurus, however, she did not survive the process. The one on the right …. Male, of age. Towards the end of his illness, he wished for a planned extraction to prevent others from coming to harm.”

Assisted suicide. Even more lovely.
Weren’t creatures fun.

That wispy exterior was creepy. As was the constant whispering around those black masses – like memories. He wasn’t sure if those were the voices of their former hosts or … something else. They reminded him of…

“Do,” Severus’ voice was shaky, “do Obscuri grow?”

“Ask what you really want to ask.”

“They remind me of dementors,” Severus admitted. “Are they …. related?”

Newt looked at him with something akin to acknowledgement. “I cannot say whether Obscuri grow. Those two haven’t in decades. However, they have been closed off from human contact. I cannot say if they have the capacity to …. feed after they left their hosts. To grow.”

Severus felt sick to his stomach. “Is there a way to destroy them? Fiendfyre, maybe?”

Scamander sighed. Something swung in his voice. Disappointment?
Severus felt like he had failed a test.

“Let’s continue. My old bones cannot stand the cold like yours anymore.”

***

The heat of the next room hit Severus like a wave. It swapped into him, leaving him without breath for a second until he adapted to the hot climate in the jungle area. Everything was vibrant green, and it smelled like fresh earth.

A small shriek greeted Severus, before a talon clawed at the now-open and re-filled box in his arms, grabbing one banana before flapping away, a tail feather hitting him straight in the face.

Scamander broke out in laughter, welcoming the fierce yellow and red phoenix onto his arm. It didn’t nuzzle him like the other creatures he harboured, but gurred before hacking into the banana with vigour.

“You said there were two.” Severus looked around, until he made out a dark bird between the leaves of a palm tree. Unlike its roommate, it didn’t come down to be fed.

“Is it about to molt?” he asked, noticing its dark feathers.

“That’s an Irish Phoenix. Come down, Patrick.”
Newt let the other phoenix fly off his arm. That hell-bird grabbed one more fruit out of Severus’ box after circling him twice, again hitting him with its tail.
“Show Patrick an apple. He loves those.”

Annoyed, Severus stared at the phoenix that reminded him of Fawkes. Hitting him twice? That thing did it deliberately, he was sure of it.

Severus picked an apple and showed it to the Irish phoenix above him with about as much enthusiasm as Harry Potter had shown when Severus returned graded essays.

The Irish phoenix hopped down, slowly approaching Severus as if he was Monster, the kneazle.

Close up, he could tell that it was no normal phoenix. It reminded him of a vulture with its dark feathers, hunched back, and sad-looking face. Where its brother was proud and fierce, it was shy and self-conscious.

Severus sighed, and made sure not to look it in the eyes lest it died of shock. “For you, Patrick,” he stated clearly, throwing the apple towards the thing so that it wouldn’t have to get any closer. It definitely was already fighting its instincts to even come that close to Severus.

Patrick grabbed the apple out of the air, but didn’t eat it. Instead, it held it in its talons and fixated Severus as if to consider what nefarious purpose this gift could hide.

Suddenly, the red phoenix came flying again, this time swishing Severus with its talons against his ear.
“I’ve got enough of you!” he shouted, protecting his head with one hand, closing the box with the other, earning him a shriek near his ear. Then, the bird was called back by Mr Scamander.

“He has awful manners, sorry. In my defence, he wasn’t trained by me.”

Severus rubbed his ear before taking out a banana from his box and throwing it in the general direction of the red phoenix. Better to keep the beast busy.

When he turned around, he found himself staring into gigantic yellow eyes. There was a clicking beak way too close to his own nose. The Irish phoenix had snuck up on him and now sat on a tree branch only a yard away.
Hesitantly, Severus handed the bird an apple. Unlike its brother, it took the fruit carefully out of his fingers, not letting him out of his sight. Then, it trilled as if to say thanks.

“They are also called Augureys,” Scamander filled him in. “In Ancient Rome, priests would investigate their flight paths to make predictions about the future. They were seen as omens of death and oncoming sadness. In truth, the only thing they really can foresee is rain. Unlike this one,” he nodded lovingly towards the red phoenix, “Augureys don’t have any healing powers.”

Patrick took another apple out of Severus’ hand. Great. Of course, the useless bird would like him.

“Phoenixes are interesting creatures,” Scamander picked up his explanations again. Severus almost tuned out, seeing as that he was quite familiar with phoenixes. “They can carry a lot of weight, and their tears can heal wounds and dispel poison. They also are immortal – that, which usually kills, cannot harm them.”

Did Severus imagine this or did Scamander stress the phoenix description much more than he had the other creature descriptions? Yeah, great birds. He got the message. “Why does this one stay with you if you aren’t its original owner?”

Scamander’s voice turned sorrowful as his eyes shifted towards the door they had come from: “Phoenixes, as you seem aware of, are the most loyal creatures known to humankind. I believe he is staying with me because he sees a rest of his owner in me. It keeps him from leaving to begin anew. Even when he burst into flames each month, he cannot burn his emotions for his dead owner out of himself.”

The phoenix flapped its red and golden wings, trilling sorrowfully before hiding its beak in its feathers to get some sleep. Suddenly, the Augurey joined it, pressing itself close to the other one as if to comfort it.

“You reminded me of them. That’s why I wished to show them to you.”

Severus shook his head to focus on the presence. He had been lost in thought while staring at the bonded phoenix pair.

“I tend to compare people to animals to understand them better. You seemed very proud like a Hippogriff. Then I noticed you accepted the tasks I gave you without complaint like an Abraxan. You were somewhat grumpy like a Kneazle, too. In the end, though, I think you’re just unfinished. Still changing. Burning your old self from the inside, but potentially also burning others in the process as collateral.” Scamander turned more serious all of a sudden. “I will not help you with your quest to kill the Basilisk.”

That rejection felt like a blow, as Scamander had delivered the line so skilfully in a moment when Severus had been distracted by the weird comparison to stupid creatures. “Why not?” he demanded to know. “You acknowledged yourself that it killed before.”

“Because I do not trust your judgement. I have observed you the past two hours, and I can tell you do not like creatures.” Scamander left no room for a counter-argument, his voice was too final. “I fear you would always condemn the Basilisk to death rather than look for a compromise that protects its life.”

Severus’ shoulders fell in defeat. “I see,” he mumbled.
So he had failed the test.
The phoenixes above them gurred in their sleep.
He clenched his fist. “Will you keep this from Dumbledore, at least? Please.”

“If I am asked directly, I will not lie to a friend,” Scamander answered. “But I do not see any need to take the initiative. Your charming companion seemed alarmed enough when you talked about the Chamber. He’ll make sure you don’t get yourself killed because of your stubborn pride that keeps you from seeking adult help.”

Well, adults tended not to help, Severus felt like throwing into the man’s face who had rejected his plea for help mere seconds ago. However, he knew when a battle was lost.

“I’ll head upstairs. I know the way,” he muttered, hiding his face and bitterness.

When he passed the phoenixes, Scamander spoke up once more: “I said I do not trust your judgement. However, there is someone whose decision on whether the Basilisk needs to die I would trust.”

Severus came to an abrupt halt, looking over his shoulders in a mixture of apprehension and hope.

Scamander called down the red phoenix, whispered something into its ears, before plucking a single feather. Then, he held it out to Severus. “I can tell that you have already gained a healthy respect of death. You fear the Basilisk and what it could do. It’s probably the same with humans. You tend to see the worst version of them, right? From your haughty face, I can tell you consider evaluating people your biggest strength. Lose that haughtiness, Mr Snape. That’s my advice. You haven’t gained respect of life yet, so your perception is nothing but flawed. Maybe you’re too young in years, or too jaded in mind. I don’t know." There was as much pity as judgement in those eyes. "This feather will take you to someone who does. Someone who respects life more than anything in the world. It’s a one-way ticket for one person only. I’ll contact her later, so she’ll know you'll drop by soon. If she decides your quest has merit … and that your decision concerning the Basilisk is right … then I will accept it, too.”

***

The phoenix feather in Severus’ hands felt like a burning reminder of the scathing character assassination he had suffered from Scamander. And Severus couldn’t do anything but accept those words in shame.
Did he respect life? The chance of what someone could be?
Of course, he didn’t! He knew what would happen in the future. He knew what would become of people.
Even if there was some doubt …
With some things, you just couldn’t risk being wrong.

The memory of Barty Crouch jr. and Regulus Black holed up in the library, studying for their exams and laughing like the children they were, like the Death Eaters they would become, swam to the forefront of his mind.

“You ready to go?” Crato asked once they had said their good-byes to the Scamanders. By now, it was mid-afternoon. The boy had been prattling about the household chores he’d done for Mrs Scamander, who apparently was just as much a slave-driver as her husband, but who made great burgers and fries and who had told Crato about missions she had been on as an American Auror.

Severus looked back towards the cottage, now again with empty paddocks all over, before nodding. “Ready.” His voice was brittle.

Chapter Text

Severus stood bare-foot on his bed, red pencil in hand. Sweat was running off his forehead from the persisting summer heat that made sleeping unbearable recently, as he performed his nightly routine of drawing an angry cross over the finished day on the wall calendar.

Friday already.
Only six more weeks of freedom.

The pencil in his hand felt tiny. It was blunt and a bit chipped, just as it had been when he had used it in elementary school.
On the first day of summer vacation, Severus had taken out his old pencil case from a box underneath his bed. Just looking at its fading textile print of playing puppies had made him bury his face in his lap. Severus couldn’t say how long he had sat on the dusty floor of his childhood room with the pencil case cradled carefully in his hands.
It had been acquired from a garage sale, and it had been his only birthday present, and he hadn’t had all the colours the teachers wanted them to use in class anyway, but his mother had tried to fill it to the best of her capabilities.

Severus didn’t remember thanking her.
Being given second-hand stuff had always left him ashamed. And resentful.

As a child, he would simply take what was given to him. No complaints. There had been an innate understanding between Severus and his mother that you just had to accept what life was giving you. During his teenager days, though, it had come easy to him to start snapping at her, too. She was great at taking Tobias’ jabs, so he had joined in. It hadn’t gotten him new stuff because there just wasn’t any money, but venting his anger had made him feel a bit better about himself.
The first time around, Severus had felt utterly betrayed by her suicide in his fifth year to the point that after the funeral, he had taken their only family picture off the mantelpiece and smashed it against the living room wall. Then, he had taken the print out of the broken frame and torn it to shreds. Looking back at it, looking back at how he had behaved towards her before her death … it seemed like he had betrayed her first by no longer cowering alongside her.

Severus let himself plummet on the bed in one go, so that the springs creaked in protest. Then, he put the red pencil back into the threadbare case on his nightstand. He couldn’t stand looking at it, didn’t want these memories, so he had left it open, with the puppy print firmly out of sight.

Next to it, the phoenix feather shimmered dark-red in the moonlight.

Slowly but steadily, September 1 was creeping up on him, and once he boarded the Hogwarts Express alongside Lily and Avery for their sixth year, there would be no chance of escaping the dreary castle walls until at least Christmas.

With each red cross on the calendar, Severus was more on edge. Looking at the evidence of the relentless passage of time upset his stomach.

No matter what he did during the day – be it remedial lessons for Avery, or writing school essays with Lily, or playing Muggle board games with both of them, or watching that stupid hospital drama with Mrs Evans and Avery - the phoenix feather Severus always carried with him was burning holes into the back-pocket of his jeans. Not literally, of course, but Severus felt as if its permanently warm touch was a constant reminder to follow Scamander’s advice as soon as possible.

Leaving for an undetermined destination posed a logistical nightmare, though. It wasn’t like Severus could apparate himself back to Cokeworth. Well, he could but the Ministry probably wouldn’t like his underaged magic. Besides, he had the slight impression that Dumbledore would not be especially keen on hearing again from Severus this summer.

One-way feather, such a stupid concept.

Severus had spent the past four days arranging a method of communication. It wasn’t the greatest plan, but once he was done with meeting Scamander’s ominous contact, he would call Crato from a public telephone booth, who had promised him to stay close to the landline in his Muggleborn friend’s home. Severus would then relay his location, so that the boy could fetch him.
Severus was essentially relying on a teenager not to get too distracted while hanging out with his best friend. God, he was doomed. He would probably find himself stranded god-knows-where.
With his luck, the feather would even abduct him to a different country, rendering even the apparition idea impossible. He could just imagine himself spending the remaining holidays tramping back to Cokeworth from the middle of the Amazon jungle.

***

“I might sleep over at the Evans home tonight,” Severus interrupted his father’s busy morning schedule of watching football on TV. The man was balancing a half-empty bottle of beer on his lap.

“Wha’?”

Severus ignored the rush of irritation at not even receiving a glance.
Not a priority. Yeah, he had never been one.

“Today’s the picnic I told you about.” Had he, actually? Severus couldn’t remember. They rarely met despite sharing a roof, what, with him spending his days at the Evans home to oversee Avery’s behaviour around the Muggles. “I am not sure how long I’ll be. If it gets late, I might stay over. So …. You don’t need to worry.”

Tobias Snape finally looked up at his son who stood awkwardly next to the tattered couch. Did the man even shower? His hair was worse than Severus’ had ever been after two hours of brewing potions. “I wouldn’t have worried.”

Yeah. Good talk. “…Now you know anyway. Well... I am off.”

His father merely grunted, already once more fixated on the Tottenham match against Arsenal. “Don’t be a burden to them.”

Severus suppressed the urge to fling an insult into Tobias’ direction. Instead, he turned around to leave the house, planning to at least throw the door shut to express his feelings towards his father, then he stopped mid-movement.
Cautiously, he studied Tobias. Since their bitter falling-out at the beginning of the holidays with his wand pointed at the man and threats issued, they had been civil to one another. Well, civil was maybe not the word, as they were both exceptionally good at using words as a weapon. However, they mostly ignored each other these days. “Dad,” he started, once again feeling nothing but annoyance when he couldn’t get Tobias to look up from the TV screen, “do you think I’ve changed?”

That, at least, got him a glance full of incredulity. “I couldn’t tell,” Tobias said. “Aren’t you running late or something?” The man made a shooing gesture towards the entrance door.

“I mean as a person.” Severus didn’t budge. He remained standing where he was. “Do you think I’ve grown? Or do you think I am still lacking something?”

“Well, yer not especially observant if you can’t tell you’re getting on my nerves. That’s something you can improve on right this second.”

Okay, that had been even less useful than he had anticipated.
Thanks for nothing.

“I guess,” his dad suddenly mumbled, swinging the bottle in Severus’ direction to emphasise his point, meanwhile spilling some beer on himself, “you stand up for yerself now like an adult rather than always cowering like a lil’ girl and crying as if anybody cared ‘bout that. It’ll do you good in life to open your mouth when you deal with those rich and haughty folks. Like I did with the boss in the mine.” Mid-sentence, Tobias frowned. “Tho’ I sort of liked it better when you didn’t talk back to me.”

Severus thought about the comment for a second, then he decided to discard that piece of anti-wisdom. The only thing that his father’s loud mouth had gotten him was fired. It was more about knowing when to open your mouth and when to keep it shut, and Severus had a hunch that neither his father nor he himself were good at judging when to do what.

***

The pool was just as ghastly as Severus remembered it from his childhood: Lots of squealing children, naked old people on their lounges and the sun was bearing down mercilessly.
Right now, he was putting up the three camping tables in the leisure area behind the pools while Mrs Evans had the other teenagers bring the salads and other foods from the trunk of the car.

He just had to suffer through the afternoon for Mrs. Evans’ sake. She really loved these family outings.

Suddenly, someone put a bowl on his back.
“Very funny,” he snapped at Petunia who walked right past him to grab a chair and sit down. She was already wearing her bikini.

“Oh, I am sorry. I mistook you for the table that you still haven’t put together properly.”

“Go die in a fire,” he mumbled.

“God, you’re so lazy, Tuney,” Lily complained as she drew closer alongside Avery. Both of them carried the barbecue set together. “Mom still has so much for us to carry. Get up!”

“Let the freeloaders do it. It’s not like they even should be here.”

“Sev’s family!”

“Not mine. And your new bestie there definitely isn’t. Or did I miss the wedding announcement?”

Avery was kind enough to take the bowl off Severus’ back, so that Severus could move again without risking to break Mrs Evans’ glassware.
“She’s such a tyrant.” Avery’s cowardly mumble barely reached Severus’ ears before the boy hurried back to the car to escape the fight.

After some more heated back-and-forth between the sisters, Lily stormed off to continue helping her mother. Petunia, though, remained cross-legged in her seat like a queen. Her eyes strayed over the open leisure area. There were lots of families picnicking, and doing barbecues, or eating cake, or playing on the two beach volleyball courts against each other. Some teenagers also held a ping pong tournament whilst the younger kids enjoyed themselves in the large sandbox or under the water fountain.

Severus focused back on the damn leg that just refused to slide into the metal brackets on the underside of the table top.

He actually didn’t really know much about Petunia. He had never met her again after his falling out with Lily in fifth year. Did she date that Dursley guy already?
All his memories of adult Petunia came from Occlumency lessons with Potter. She certainly would not become less horse-faced in her age. Unlike the teenage girl in front of him, the 17-year-old who was checking out all the boys walking by, the older Petunia had seemed more exhausted. More bitter. Less optimistic about the future.
Severus actually had no idea how Petunia had ended up with such a fat oaf in the first place. She herself had always been right on the edge of an eating disorder to fulfil her beauty ideals or whatever. The Petunia Severus knew in his childhood had never been satisfied with her looks.

“Are you going to actually do anything or just stare at the table leg? I don’t think it’ll put itself together.”

Severus rolled his eyes. “Try it yourself then, if you are such a know-it-all.”

To his surprise, she actually left her chair with a huff and crouched next to him in the grass. She smelled like hair spray and a bit grapefruit-y.

“Give that to me.” She didn’t really wait for his compliance but forcefully took the table leg out of his hands. Then, she fumbled around, her face turning more frustrated each time the plastic refused to snap into the metal contraption.

Severus was content to watch her struggle with the table rather than help.

Petunia married before Lily, that much Severus knew. However, their children had been about the same age, so it couldn’t have been a baby-induced shot-gun wedding.
Why would Petunia choose such an unattractive, and based on Potter’s memories, angry person?
She should have known better with such kind parents.

“Stop staring at me,” Petunia suddenly reprimanded him in a vicious manner.
She was looking up at him, and he could feel her discomfort at wearing nothing but a bikini in front of him. Well, he had always physically repulsed her. From the first time the sister had talked to him at the playground, her feelings had been clear to him even without voicing the insults. “Try to be somewhat useful and push the leg while I guide it into the bracket.”

Together, they forced the plastic to snap into place, so that both of them sighed in relief. “Finally! Dad really needs to buy a new set.”

They repeated their efforts on the other two plastic camping tables and pushed them together to form a table large enough for six people.

Without any talking, they moved the dishes that Lily and Avery had placed on the chairs while the table was still in construction.

The group of teenage boys that had been busy playing ping pong went past them, chatting and laughing loudly. Petunia’s eyes followed them, and there was a red tint to her cheeks. However, none of the boys paid her any attention whatsoever. As soon as they had passed their spot, Petunia’s shoulders fell and she seemed more withdrawn, even biting her brightly coloured nails.

She radiated sadness.

Being a natural Legilimens sometimes was really awkward. Couldn’t Petunia at least try to be more private about her feelings? He hated it when people drowned him in their issues. He had his own set of problems, thank you very much. It was nigh on impossible to blend out emotions once he had already noticed them. “So, do you enjoy your summer holidays so far?”

Please, just focus on something else than your inability to find a mate.

“I finished school,” Petunia replied with some venom in her voice. Anger was good. Anger was much easier for Severus to ignore. He actually liked to get a rise from people sometimes. “Once my apprenticeship starts, I’ll finally rent my own flat. Then Lily has the room all to herself to do whatever with your creepy friend. Must be difficult to be passed over. Not that it comes as a surprise, he is more attractive than you.”

So much defensiveness.

“Congrats, then. I hope you’ll have a great start.”

Petunia seemed extremely dissatisfied with his reaction. “Looking down on me for working, aren’t you, Snape? At least I do honest work and don’t just laze around like your dead-beat dad or magick everything around me.”

“Our world’s not so different,” Severus explained quietly. “Lily will also have to do some training after getting her degree. It’s not all wands. Lots of wizards and witches work with their hands.”

“Like what?”

“Brewing potions requires manual labour, for example. Doctors and nurses need to touch their patients. Aurors - they’re like detectives - they also need to investigate crime scenes in person and talk to suspects. There are also people who work with creatures. Dragon-breeders, or …. magizoologists.”

Petunia still seemed somewhat miffed, but there was a greedy glint in her eyes as she listened to his description of their world.
Then, her concentration broke as Avery returned with a large bowl of potato salad. “Your mom wants you. Lily snitched on you about shirking work,” he said while putting the food on the table. “And you are supposed to get changed and show me around, Mrs Evans said.”

“You really live to inconvenience me. Do you need to be babysat all the time?” Severus accepted the new pair of swimming trunks from Avery without any grace whatsoever. “I hate you.”

Avery pouted. “I am your only friend!”

“I found a better one. He’s of age and actually fun to talk to.”

“Oh, go die with the mudbloods, Snape!” The other Slytherin headed off towards the cabin with his own swimming trunks in hand.

Only then did Severus notice that Petunia was blatantly staring at him with a frown on her forehead. “Something on my face?”

She shook her head somewhat upset. “I need to help mom with whatever.”

“He wasn’t threatening you or your family. It’s just a nasty slur, you know,” Severus explained.

“Why would I be worried about that loser? He regularly falls over his own two feet. He’d probably wake up the whole house by tripping over a chair if he tried to kill us in our sleep.”

Severus sighed. “Yeah, he probably would. He’s pretty ineffective in everything he does.”

Petunia hesitated as she was in-between leaning against the table and rushing off towards the parking lot. One of her hands nervously played with a dark lock of her shoulder-length hair. “Some advice, Snape. Tell him to stop harassing girls. It’s incredibly embarrassing to watch, especially when we’re at the supermarket and everybody knows us. If he does his usual thing half-naked at the pool, he’ll either get socked in the eye or taken in by the police.”

Severus raised his eyebrow in alarm. “Does he molest people?”

Lily’s sister seemed somewhat uncomfortable, as she crossed her arms before her chest defensively. “He doesn’t touch, but he’s really thick. He doesn’t notice when he’s not wanted. And walking up to people and whispering ‘I am magic’ into a stranger’s ear is creepy.”

He groaned as he put his hand over his eyes in emotional pain. “I am going to skin him alive. Your mom hasn’t said anything about that to me or I would have intervened sooner.”

“Of course, she hasn’t told you,” Petunia said with a snort. “Mom has a thing for strays. She tries to protect him from your bullying. I myself, though, would rather he stop that behaviour than to protect his itty-bitty feelings.”

His bull- what?
“Excuse me!” Severus frowned. “My what?”

“Oh, stop playing coy. You must enjoy being on the other side for once.”

Her comments completely puzzled him. “What’re you on about?”

“He thinks you’re his friend but you command him around like a dog. Guess that’s something you learned from Lily. Must be nice to no longer be the one that is always criticized and told off.”

It was a dig against Lily. Of course. Severus stared the teenage girl down. “You know, jealousy is not especially attractive. Make-up won’t help you much when you’re just ugly inside.”

One thing Legilimency helped with. He was pretty good at aiming his insults where it hurt.

His nasty jab brought some red to Petunia’s cheeks. “Oh, please! I at least choose friends that are my equal. Not charity cases. Lily always liked to be a princess with her entourage. She must be heart-broken that you now have your own court to boss around.”

“I am not a bully!” Severus declared angrily.

“Are you sure about that?”
It was Petunia now who triumphantly stalked away.

***

Was he?

Maybe he had had some bullying tendencies - mind you, never physical - with Harry bloody Potter. He had been channelling the father at times when looking at that brat. Had maybe taken revenge through him on someone who was past earthly retribution.

Severus had never let any physical harm come to the boy if he could prevent it. He hadn’t hurt him himself either.

Well, there had been one incident. He had thrown Potter against a wall after the boy had intruded on his memories during Occlumency lessons. But that had been once. And provoked. And the potion bottles he had thrown after the boy had missed him by a fair margin.

Bullying was about targeting someone repeatedly and hurting them, right?
He hadn’t done that. Not much.

Severus couldn’t say what he had been discussing with Avery on their tour to the pool, let alone what his contributions during lunch where. While he sat sandwiched between Lily and Mrs Evans, the barbecue seemed to roll past him like a movie that was being fast-forwarded. Everyone ate and talked and joked, and Mr Evans slightly burned his hand on the grill, and Petunia walked off to hang out with a friend of hers that was apparently also at the pool by coincidence. Severus suspected she just wanted to eat as little as she had to.

The boy had provoked him left, right and center. Why couldn’t Harry bloody Potter have been a bit more appreciative of the help he was being given? Severus had sacrificed fifteen years of his life to keep the boy alive. Fifteen years of being stuck in a teaching position he neither had desired nor enjoyed. He had spent his life stuck around people decades older than him, he had not sought other employment, other friends, other … He had lived for that boy. And from Day One, Harry bloody Potter had considered himself above gratefulness. He had not even paid any attention in their first Potions lesson.

Because the boy hadn’t known.
Severus had just been a nasty teacher to him. One that attacked him without due cause.

He hadn’t wanted the boy to know. Had sworn Dumbledore to silence.
Because it was so much easier to punish the son for the sins of the father. To hate him. Much easier than to explain Severus’ part in getting him orphaned.
Pushing Harry bloody Potter away ... it had been self-protection.

And he’d done it spitefully, and violently, and repeatedly.

Severus couldn’t say how it happened, but the knife slipped out of his hand and landed underneath the table.
“Fuck!” His colourful language got him a reprimand from Mrs Evans. “Sorry.” He dived under the table to retrieve the knife. And to close his eyes off to the barrage of memories.

It hadn’t happened yet.

No. It wouldn’t happen again. Potter would be an obnoxiously happy child raised by two parents who were filthy-rich and most important of all: alive.

When he opened his eyes, he suddenly found himself face to face with two green orbs. Severus jumped up, hitting his head against the table that shook heavily. The cries of surprise from above filled his ears with blood. Ashamed, he mumbled his apologies while staring into Lily’s face that was mere inches from his own.

“Are you okay?”
Her whisper was almost drowned out by the conversation above them.

“Just getting my knife.” He felt in the grass for the metal object. There wasn’t a lot of light due to the heavy table cloth.

“No, Sev. I meant … are you alright?”

He avoided direct eye contact as he finally got hold of the knife. However, her hand suddenly closed around his to prevent him from moving back up.

“You’ve been really withdrawn today. Did something happen when you showed Avery the pool? Did he do something … dark? Something you have to report to Dumbledore?”

Severus shook his head and tried to free his hand without applying force. He didn’t want to bruise her. To hurt her.

Hurting people was sort of a specialty of his.

“Just … trouble with Mary,” he fibbed. “It’s fine.”

He felt suspicion radiate off her, as well as a souring of the mood. She never liked it mentions of his relationship with Mary. On one occasion during the holidays, one of their evening board game sessions, she had admitted to him that it felt a bit like losing her two best friends.

“Do you think I am becoming a bully myself?” he blurted out. “Like Potter and… my dad?”

“Where’s that coming from?” Lily frowned.

“Do you think I am bullying Avery?” he whispered more insistently.

Lily hesitated. “I think you’re behaving like brothers. You squabble and you say mean thing to one another, but you never take each other’s unkind words personally.”

That … didn’t really help. “Petunia says I treat him like you treated me. Like a dog who needs to be managed.”

Lily fell silent, her gaze not straying from his eyes even for one moment. Then, she asked quietly: “Do you feel like I bullied you? That’s ridiculous. We were friends. Are friends.”

Ridiculous. Yeah.
Severus nodded slowly.

“Oi, you two lovebirds. What are you doing down there?” Mrs Evans asked jokingly as she put the table cloth to the side to peek at them. Hastily, Lily released Severus’ hand so that he could retreat back up.

***

After lunch, even Mrs Evans had headed towards the pool, albeit not without trying to coax Severus to come along. He had refused the kind offer. It was already uncomfortable enough to only wear swimming trunks in public. The pool area was overcrowded, and he didn’t care to be close to so many strangers.
Despite the smothering heat that plastered Severus’ hair to his scalp, he remained behind to collect the dirty dishes in a big laundry basket, so that they could transport them back to the Evans home safely later on.

“Leave that to me,” Mr Evans said from the side. He was near the barbecue and busy cleaning it before the grease could permanently stain the metal grill. “You should go have some fun.”

Time to put his plan into action. He had told his father a cover story, now he just needed the Evans family to not miss him for the next couple of hours. “I actually think I ate too much too fast. After I put the dishes into the car, I’ll head home to get some sleep, Mr Evans.”

“Do you want me to drive you?”

“It’s only a twenty-minutes-walk.”

“Driving you home isn’t an inconvenience. Are you feeling okay otherwise?” Suddenly, there was a large hand on his forehead. Severus endured the fever check. “You didn’t talk much during dinner either.”

It was weird being mother-coddled by another adult. “Maybe I’m coming down with something.” He paused to seem more spontaneous about this part of the conversation. “If you are okay with it, I’ll take a break tomorrow? Or do you need me to help you with Avery? I know that I somewhat placed the burden of his presence on you.”

“Severus,” the man started and now he took a chair to be eye-level with him. “it’s fine. Rose loves having Avilius around. To be honest, she loves his company more than my own. I always make rude comments about her illogical hospital drama.”

Severus smiled. “That series is pretty bad, isn’t it?”

The man hummed in agreement. “That’s a secret between us two men, right? Otherwise, she’ll make me sleep on the couch until I take it back.”

“Or worse. She could make you watch the show start to finish to convince you of its quality.”

There was mock horror on the man’s face. “So, may I buy your silence by driving you home, Severus?”

He probably wouldn’t get out of it without letting the man chauffeur him back to Spinner’s End. That’s just the kind of person David Evans was.

Severus nodded, despite knowing that this would be dangerous. His father probably was still on the couch watching TV, however, he couldn’t be sure. The man could spot him from the kitchen window while making himself a cup of tea or whatever.

“All right. Let me tell Rose, then we grab the barbecue and the dirty dishes on our way to the car.”
Mr Evans stood up and patted him on the shoulder before turning towards the pool area.

“Mr Evans,” Severus spoke up before the man could leave. There was something on his mind, on his heart. “Did you ever resent that Lily chose me as a friend?”

“Why would I?” The man sounded cautious. He hadn’t fully turned around yet, and merely looked over his shoulders.

Severus was done bullshitting. “Because I had awful manners, and was dirt-poor, and a really bad influence on her. It’s why you never allowed her to come over to my place. You didn’t want her anywhere near my father.”

Mr Evans’ face was closely guarded now. He finally did turn around. “We may not have liked your parents but we did like you, Severus.”

“That doesn’t answer the question I asked. Did you ever resent the fact that Lily befriended me?”

Mr Evans sighed before scratching the back of his nose. Then, he propped himself up against the cooled-off barbecue. “I will treat you now like a man, okay?”

Yes, please.

“Of course, I had the thought from time to time that Lily could have chosen an easier friend.” Ouch. “But who was I to forbid her the contact? To decide over her social life?”

Severus remained silent.

Mr Evans put his hands through his hair, seemingly grieved by the topic. “To be frank, it wasn’t Lily, though, that we worried about after the first couple of months. Or years.”

“Because of my father?” Severus felt his chest constrict. “He never has the courage to do anything unless he’s drunk.”

That garnered him a look that clearly seemed to doubt that there was ever a time when Tobias Snape was sober. “Your father’s behaviour towards you was worrisome, yes. But it was stable and you seemed to manage well enough. No, Rose and I worried about you because you became so utterly dependent on Lily. You had no other friends in Cokeworth, and you would do whatever she wanted you to do, no questions asked and no back-talking no matter the consequences for yourself.” He huffed. “Grow your hair out because she could then play hair dresser with you? Of course, you did, even though it enraged your father and he called you a nancy boy for it. Let her give you a buzzcut that would get you into trouble for looking like a thug? Or pretending that it was you who broke our window when you played football in the garden? You would do anything she said because you so desperately wanted to please her. To keep her as a friend. Rose and I knew that this co-dependency wasn’t healthy. And when you were sorted into different houses at Hogwarts? We hoped you would find other friends, but Lily reported in her letters that you still mostly hung out with her. We were always waiting for a fallout. For the time when she would enter a different phase and would find boys embarrassing or wanted to focus on her girlfriends, or would get a boyfriend. We didn’t worry about Lily, Severus. She would be fine. We worried about what would become of you once she left you behind.”

There was something stuck in his throat. It made speaking difficult. “What did you think I would do?” What did you consider me capable of doing to her?

He looked Mr Evans in the eyes. Begged him to tell the truth, yet not to be unkind. Instinctively, he knew he could not get the one without the other.

“Lily has told us that you would hang out more with some of those Purebreds. The ones that look down on people like us.”

“I always respected Lily’s choices,” Severus whispered. “I didn’t befriend those boys because I wanted to talk trash about her and her new friends. I just … didn’t want to be alone anymore.”

Mr Evans nodded slightly. Yet, there was a bit of uncertainty in his demeanour. As if he suspected Severus of lying. Of being capable of wanting to hurt … to take revenge …
Yeah.

“Rose and I were really glad to hear about you and Mary,” the man said. “We talked about it a lot. We were quite proud that you had the courage to befriend her, especially when we thought you were drifting off into the wrong direction.”

Yes, Severus quite remembered the embarrassing car ride when Mr Evans had fumbled his way through the talk at the beginning of the holidays. It seems like Severus’ emotional state was a frequent bedside discussion in the Evans home. “Lily’s not a fan, though.”

Mr Evans laughed slightly, as his face turned fond. “That’s my girl. She always was a bit too dominant in her behaviour towards you. It’ll do her good to learn that you are your own person. After all, she demands time for herself, right? So she’ll have to learn to grant that freedom to her friends as well.”

Oh.
“She was jealous,” he realised. “That’s why she always ranted about the other Slytherin boys even when I wasn’t really friends with them. She thought … I would leave her for them.”

Just an insecure teenage girl caught between trying to cling to him and trying to punish him by pushing him away at the same time.

He had been an idiot for thinking her perfect and all grown up and … knowing what she was doing.

Not just Severus had been merely 16 when they had had their falling out.

Mr Evans gave him some seconds to work through his inner turmoil. Then, the man squeezed his shoulder. “Girls are hard to understand, aren’t they?”

“I just … I feel like our friendship is a complicated mess,” Severus admitted. “I don’t understand where Lily and I went wrong.”

Mr Evans’ face turned soft. “Let me guess. Your new friends are so much easier to deal with? There’s less fighting, less emotional baggage?”

Severus shrugged. He had had a good quota of fights with Mary, especially during their time in Hangleton, to be honest, but those arguments never felt quite as destructive as his blow-ups with Lily.

“Childhood friends are a great thing. You know yourself what a deep bond you share with Lily because you just know each other. But that can be a burden, too. Yes, there are many fond memories you share, and funny stories, and you are exceptionally good at reading each other’s body language … but that means that in your mind, you will always retreat into your child version when you communicate with Lily. In a nutshell … Severus, growing up is hard. It’s hard enough on its own. Have patience with yourself and with Lily. She probably behaves more childish in her friendship with you than she would with any other person because your friendship is grounded in child emotions. In child memories. It takes time to be not just physically an adult but also mentally and emotionally.”

That made sort of sense to him.

“Do you still worry about what could become of me?” Severus bit his lips.

The man put his head to the left side, then to the right side, as if to weigh his inner position before coming to a decision. “We’re parents. We always worry, that’s our job. It is what we worry about that changes over time. For instance, Rose really is troubled by the fact that you now prefer to hang out with a student that is older than you and already of age. One that neither Lily nor Avilius seem to know anything about. Rose fears that you could be tempted to go drinking and partying.”

“Crato and I went to the London Zoo together,” Severus reminded the man who only raised his eyebrow. Yeah, okay. It hadn’t been the most credible cover story, granted.

“Just … try not to grow up too fast, Severus. I am not going to tell you to act responsible like I would tell Lily. You’ve always been far more responsible than one would expect of your age. So I’ll tell you instead … to enjoy not being an adult yet.”

He sighed. Being a teenager sucked, so he couldn’t really see Mr Evans’ point. “Do you think … I am still lacking something, then? If you don’t consider me grown-up yet.”

The man inspected him from head to toe, then once again squeezed his shoulders. “You’re getting there. I am proud of how much you’ve grown already.”

“Petunia says I am bullying Avery,” he blurted out. “Because I always criticize him and act cold towards him.”

“Mr Evans hummed, not the least surprised. “My, I didn’t know that Petunia had it in her to actually sympathize with someone else like that. Seems like someone else is also growing up.” Then, he smiled at Severus in a disgustingly all-knowing way. “So, you’ve been told that your behaviour towards your friend is unkind. What will you do about it, Severus?”

He felt like being quizzed on the spot by McGonagall on some obscure transfiguration law. “I… I don’t know.”

A small chuckle escaped Mr Evans as if he had anticipated this answer. “You’ll figure it out.”

Chapter Text

As soon as Mr Evans’ car turned the corner, Severus let his hand fall with which he had waved goodbye.

Too much time had already been wasted this afternoon.

Briskly, he walked down the row of uniform brick-houses stamped out of the ground in the 1950s once the British industry had recovered from the War. It had taken almost a decade of canny political decisions to turn the production towards consumerism again, to stabilise the pound, to finalise trade agreements. Then, the economy was booming. Plenty of work in the factories. Plenty of workers you had to house quickly and efficiently.

Spinner’s End lay deserted – most of the inhabitants would either be still working themselves to death on a Friday afternoon for the minimum wage or they would already be down at the pub. Taking out the feather in the middle of the street was still a no-no. There was always an old lady sitting behind her kitchen curtains somewhere. And Severus had the distinct impression that Dumbledore would not be keen on hearing his name these holidays again, especially not in connection to breaking the International Statute of Secrecy.

After about two dozen of those plain homes with neither garden or carport (who needed a car around here? It’s not like you would ever get anywhere in life) , he finally skipped into the narrow alley that connected Spinner’s End to the riverbank.

Severus remembered running through this passage as a child, sometimes to flee his father’s acerbic shouts or thrown objects, sometimes to meet Lily on a playdate. The river wasn’t suited to bathing, what, with the white foam floating on top of the water surface and the perpetual stench of chemicals in the air. Still, they would sometimes splash each other with the contaminated water or put their feet into the river in a sort of dare.

Meeting Lily by the river had been a constant in his childhood and his formative years as a teenager. It was where their lives touched, and where their roads diverged.

The rules of Cokeworth were simple. You either lived on the good side of the river, or you lived on the bad side of the river. Severus couldn’t remember their home teacher’s exact explanation, it just had always been a fact of life that on his side, you could always smell the sharp fumes from the factory chimneys.

***

Once the shadows of the alley shielded Severus from potential onlookers, he got out the phoenix feather. Even in the scarce daylight that managed to squeeze itself between the two brick-walls to the left and right of his, there was a red glow to the feather, and it radiated warmth.

Phoenixes were creatures of raw power, of the ancient ways that modern society barely remembered. They were relicts of a past when wizards still prayed to Celtic nature gods and animal spirits that were rumoured to roam the land. Back then, they would sacrifice potions to the deities and initiated their young into their circle by celebrating Beltane, the start of summer. Records of witches and wizarding dancing around campfire existed aplenty in Muggle stories. Their own kind, though, Purebloods especially, would raise their nose in disgust at a mere mention of these primitive beginnings in their History of Magic lessons.

As Scamander had lectured Severus: Today, the wizarding community did no longer revere creatures like deities. Instead, they kept magical beings as pets or livestock to harvest potions ingredients.
They had managed to subjugate Hippogriffs and even dragons, yet Phoenixes had escaped them. Not for the lack of trying. Throughout the centuries, wizards had captured wild specimens to study them, to use their tears, their eggs, their feathers, their ash. For whatever reason, however, those specimens would soon be found lying lifelessly in their golden cages as if they had willed themselves to death.
The wizarding community had more or less accepted that they could not be tamed. Phoenixes were old magic. Forces of nature.

Holding the feather tightly between his fingers, Severus could feel magic in its most primeval form sizzle through it.

Scamander hadn’t told him what to do but there was no need for instructions. Severus’ own magical core sang instinctively to the burning pulsation in the feather.

Ready.

The phoenix magic crashed over him like a gigantic wave, a splash of magic engulfed him in its burning heat that melted away the narrow alley as if it was erasing it from existence.

For a micro-second, Severus felt himself lose his state of being only to form anew.

***

Severus found himself staring directly at a candy stand, with dozens of people queuing around him. The sickly-sweet smell of candyfloss, cinnamon waffles, caramelized macadamia nuts and fruits covered in chocolate filled his nose, upsetting his stomach instantly.
Spinner’s End had been deserted, and now there were hundreds if not thousands of people around him, and it was loud.
What the -.
With Apparition or Portkeys, there was always a physical element of “hitting” a new place. You knew that you had arrived because you could feel the magical push or notice the twisting of your insides. With this … it was as if reality had reformed around him rather than him travelling to another place.
Like walking from one scene in a dream into another.
He didn’t feel real – he didn’t feel part of this –
As if he was walking through someone’s memories in a Pensieve.

He was really there, though, because there was a rough hand grabbing his shoulder. “Get in line!” a man bellowed at him, pushing him to the back of the queue.

Severus felt like a ragdoll as he tried his hardest to orientate himself. Meanwhile, the crowd of funfair-goers swallowed him up, bumping into him painfully from the back, the side, the front, treading on his feet, jostling him around carelessly until he stumbled along.
Children everywhere, babies carried in their parents’ arms, couples holding hands. Groups of teenaged boys laughing loudly and play-fighting.

The crowd was pushing him along the circular path of the funfair, with food stands and attractions on both sides like a never-ending attack on his senses. In the middle, there was a gigantic ferris wheel with blinking lights looming like a threat in the red evening sky.
Wandering spotlights blended him from both sides of the path as the attractions were highlighted in all colours of the rainbow. Meanwhile, children’s screams from the rollercoasters filled the air alongside the shrill tunes auto-playing on the merry-go-rounds.
Two rides for the price of one a booming voice offered over a set of speakers. Who will win the big prize? another speaker advertised: Buy your lottery tickets now. Five pounds, five tickets. Ten pounds, fifteen tickets!

“Oi, move it, lad!” Another person walked into Severus from behind when he tried to take a second for himself to process the change of surroundings, the unexpected sensory overload.

Then, there were five, six, eight explosions shaking him to the core, as fireworks lit the sky.

Too much too fast.

Severus couldn’t remember pushing his way through the aahing and oohing crowd and squeezing himself between two stands. He must have, though, as he found himself bent over a bin in the narrow gap between the path and the trailers in which the showmen lived. Severus held the metal rim while dry-retching into it.
Too much burnt meat in his nose, and sweets, and smoke from the smoke machines on the rides, then there were the aggressively blinking lights, and the booming loudspeakers, the fireworks, the screams, the people everywhere, making him feel claustrophobic…

“Ye’re alright, lad?”
A bulky man looked out a performer’s wagon. He wore something akin to a glittery circus costume. In his hand, there was an unlit torch. A fire eater.

Severus’ hands trembled as he let go of the bin and raised them defensively. “Just ate too much. ‘m fine.”

The man had a face that sort of reminded Severus of a troll. It wasn’t a kind thought, but he couldn’t unthink it. There was something very animalistic about that nose and eyes. A bit like… Hagrid.
There was no wand visible but something about the man just screamed ‘not Muggle’. He was different. Looked different, especially after Severus had almost drowned in the sea of Muggles at the funfair.

“Dear god, lad, what did ye do to yer hand?”

“What do mean?”
Puzzled, Severus turned his hands palm-up, only to now notice the large feather-shaped burn mark across his right hand. The outline was incredibly fine, as if someone had drawn it with a razor. The skin in the middle was blackened. “Fuck!”
Panicky, Severus rubbed over the mark, smearing the ash all over, yet the feather contour remained.

“Stop, ye’ll make it worse, yer eejit!”
The man stumbled out of his trailer and grabbed Severus’ hand, inspecting it up close to his beady eyes. Troll or Giant. Severus couldn’t tell. “Seems like ye’re lucky. ‘S not charred in the middle, just a lota ash. Whatever ye touched, it burnt ye good on the outline, tho. That’ll definitely scar. I know me stuff when it comes to fire.”

Severus stared at the feather imprint going from his wrist to the gap between thumb and index finger.
Lovely. Just. Lovely.
This was the third scar he would receive in a month. The cut on his eyebrow from the attack in Diagon Alley was still visible because Crato’s healing magic had unravelled once Moody had forcefully introduced Severus’ head to the table in the interrogation room. Then there were the scratches on his shoulder from when he had broken his way into the Gaunt shack under the influence of that … Horcrux thing.

This time travel business sure wasn’t doing him any favour in the looks department.

“Do ye want to cool that off?” The half-troll nodded towards his trailer.

“It’s not hot,” Severus replied. “I didn’t even notice it.”

The man looked at him strangely. “How can ye not notice burnin’ something into yer skin?”

“It was a phoenix feather,” Severus muttered, already tired of the conversation.

“Phoenix, ye say?” The man hummed, not even hesitating over the magical reference. He must have picked up on Severus’ status as well. “That’s yer bird, then? The nuisance that appeared coupla days ago.”

“There’s a phoenix around?”
Severus cradled his wounded hand.

“Oh, there definitely is. Bloody menace always leaves its droppings on me trailer steps. I told Ginny to keep it in her tent but it’s a spiteful lil’ thing that does what it wants. Doesn’t help that she’s mother-coddlin’ it all the time. Thankfully the Muggles never notice anythin’, they just think it’s a weird peacock when it flies around.” The fire eater eyed him warily. “Ye’re not here for the fair, are ye, lad?”

“This Ginny keeps the phoenix?” Severus asked, struggling to decode the thick accent. He couldn’t tell how much of it was nurture, and how much was simply nature as trolls didn’t have the right voice chords for speech.

“That she does. Ye here to meet her?”

“I think I am.” Then he remembered a crucial question: “Oh, are we …. in England?”

The man frowned. “Near Edinburgh. Why?”

Scotland.
Cool. Cool.
Ahh…

Crato would manage the cross-border apparition distance.
Probably.

***

“Always loved me fire,” the half-troll concluded when they finally reached the last row of trailers in the back of the fair. Severus had tried to nod at the right places during the man’s weird life story of circus shenanigans and being on the run from the Ministry for various crimes. “I just had to find a place where I could legally burn stuff for money.”

“The Ministry’s alright with the fair? It seems to scratch pretty hard on the International Statute of Secrecy.”

Going by the assortment of weirdos that were hanging out near the trailers, the fair was run by half-humans, goblins dressed as vendors and at least two vampires, one of them a ten-year-old girl with an unhinged smile and red stains on her flowery summer dress. Both her and her dad or lover or whatever had fletched their teeth to smell Severus when he had walked past the … alarmingly coffin-shaped boxes under their trailers.

The half-troll smiled toothily at him. “Which ministry? We’ve got no wizards here. We do our own rules.”

Severus paused. “Fair enough.”
Didn’t change the fact that Severus would prefer for this monster parade to have some sort of oversight. What did Scamander expect him to learn here? Severus really didn’t see himself warming up to these … people.
With his luck, this Ginny person was an unregistered werewolf. Instinctively, he looked up at the evening sky.
Too soon to tell.

“Do you know whether it will be a full moon today?” he said to the fire eater nervously.

“Dunno. Ye’d have to ask Finnegan.” The man’s laughter resembled a troll grunt. “He never misses one.”

***

“As I said before. Let me do the talkin’. Us people don’t like outsiders,” the fire eater warned him before he led Severus into a tent in the last row of the performers’ trailers.

It was like passing a barrier – as soon as he stepped inside, a heatwave blew into Severus’ face like a desert wind. “It’s at least twenty-five degrees in here!”

“Ginny gets cold easily,” the half-troll explained.

Who in their right mind would use an oven in July?

“Oh, you should see herself curl up ‘round the fire in winter.” The man called the woman’s name twice before deliberately chiming a dream catcher that was hanging off the tent roof.

There were two sofas and two armchairs to the left of the oven, forming a comfortable living area, while the right hand-side resembled an eccentric office. Most prominently, there was a table with a set of tarot cards. Someone had stopped mid-reading as there were some cards face-up, some face-down. The tent had been magically enlarged to hold at least an additional private room because there was a red door behind the cosy seating area.
Each wall was completely covered in cloth: silky shawls, embroidered tapestries and Oriental carpets. Just looking at it made Severus feel even hotter. Behind the tarot card table, there were two shelves with crystals balls and tea cups and other fortune-telling knickknacks. The books, especially, were an odd mixture of Muggle and wizard literature on Divination as if the owner hadn’t really cared whether their content was authentic or not.
On every surface, there were lit candles, emitting even more heat and draining the air off oxygen. Even the floor was carpet to keep the warmth inside.

Only two minutes in, and Severus was already drenched in sweat and felt sleepy.

It was more like a den than a room in which a person could live. No wonder the phoenix liked it in here.

Scamander’s blasted bird sat on top of the candle chandelier, playfully swinging forward and back, so that the metal frame moved in circles. Severus exchanged a long stare with the feathered menace.
“I hate you”, he formed with his lips, sure to be very precise with each syllable.
In reply, the phoenix swished its tail feather.

“You’re bringing me another client, Hugh?” a soft female voice asked from the now-open door behind the sofas. “That’s cutting it close. My palm-reading hour at the fair starts soon.”

Ginny was a woman of East Asian descent with glossy jet-black hair. She had pinned it into a bun, with some strands braided, but quite a lot of soft curls had escaped from the bun, now nestled around her nape. Her ragged bangs were parted to both sides of her forehead and framed the dark eyes like half-drawn curtains.
She didn’t wear any make-up, yet her skin was smooth and white. A few worry lines were visible on her forehead. Severus had a hard time placing her age. Outward, she looked no older than in her mid-forties but her eyes seemed so much more … done with the world.
Even her long-sleeved dark dress screamed melancholy. The woman seemed so fragile, and there was something hauntingly pretty about her.

“I, am not here for any of this clap-… fortune-telling,” Severus fumbled over his words. He didn’t want to offend. “I was told I would profit from your expertise in a delicate matter.”
He reluctantly raised the hand with the feather burn mark.

“Oh. Newt sent you.”
Did Severus imagine it or did her voice dip into displeasure for a second?
“Hugh. Would you be so kind to give us some privacy?”

“Ye fine with him?”

She smiled effortlessly at the half-troll. “You know I can manage someone like him.”

“If ye need me.”

“I will shout.”

With a rough pat on Severus’ shoulder, Hugh left the tent, flipping the phoenix off on his way outside. The bird started to flap its wings in anger until the woman shushed it fondly: “Ssh, baby, come here.”

The phoenix clicked with its beak before hopping from the chandelier onto the woman’s arm. She cradled the bird against her chest, putting her forehead against the phoenix’.

“This must seem weird to you,” the woman started, “since you know I am not his owner.”

“Weird doesn’t even begin to cover what I think about Newt Scamander and his menagerie.”

The woman looked him up and down, transferring the phoenix onto her shoulder where it rubbed its head against her ear.
“I helped raise him,” she supplied. “After we found him as a hatchling. A friend of mine and I stayed up day and night to feed him. He was our little baby.” She scratched the phoenix under its chin. “We were too young for the battles we had to fight. Well. Looking at you … Newt should know better than to involve children in hare-brained adventures. He’s turning into Dumbledore.”

There it was again. For a split-second.
The hairs on Severus’ arm rose instantly as sharp hatred surfaced, then disappeared again under the calm and collected exterior of that woman.

“I insisted until he pointed me in your direction,” he defended Scamander to defuse the tension. “Though I must say, I am as surprised as glad that you appear so normal compared to the craziness outside.”

That elicited a sad laugh from the woman. “Don’t be fooled. I have my own set of skills that landed me with Hugh and his crew. It should be a dead give-away that you have found me through Newt. He attracts monsters.”

At least this woman was the prettiest monster he had encountered in a while.
He couldn’t feel a magical pull, though, so not part-Veela.
She definitely had bitterness in her, and plenty of sadness. Everything about her felt human to Severus.

Carefully, he navigated towards the table and grabbed the back of the chair furthest from the oven. It did register that she hadn’t yet asked him to make himself comfortable. “May I take up some of your time to discuss business?”

“Take a seat then. Newt’s friend.”

“Severus Snape,” he corrected and sat down. “And you’re Ginny?”

She took the seat closest to the oven, her dress swishing a bit, as she gracefully slipped onto the chair. Calmly, she collected the Tarot cards, then crossed her hands on top of the table.
“Nagini, actually. I only go by Ginny around the Muggles.”

Severus froze for a second, staring at the woman. Seeing her and not seeing her as another being had taken her place in his mind.
Stuck in that magical cage with the Dark Lord’s snake, staring into those yellow slits and seeing its tongue flicking, smelling him. Then, the Dark Lord’s haunting command. Severus hadn’t needed to be a Parselmouth to instinctively know the meaning. Kill.
He could feel himself beginning to breathe wrong, to lose more air than he was taking in. Severus pushed his fingernails into his thighs until it hurt enough to focus again on the woman that was right in front of him.

It was just a name. He couldn’t lose it like that over something so trivial.
There was a horrible itch in his unblemished neck, yet he refused to scratch it for fear of drawing blood.

“Are you okay, boy?” Nagini seemed rather worried, leaning forward as if to check his face. He flinched back, and wasn’t he grateful that she accepted his need for space? The woman stopped her advance instantly.

“Just…. A memory. I knew something… someone with that name. Once.”

“And here I thought I was the only person unwanted enough to be named after a monster”, she replied in her soft, yet bitter voice. “It’s a derivation of Naga, you see. The Indian snake goddess. A half-human, half-snake.”

Severus nodded absent-mindedly, still fighting to regain his composure.

“It’s usually not my name that frightens people. You can call me Ginny, if it’s easier on you? ”

“I am fine,” he insisted defiantly. Severus would not let himself be defeated by a name. And he wouldn’t scratch his neck bloody just because his mind thought it was itchy. “Speaking of snakes. That’s what I am here for. Mr Scamander told you about me?”

“Pretend he didn’t tell me anything,” she said. That cold edge broke through once more for a second or two, revealing the underlying hatred she masked so well. It gave Severus goosebumps. “I haven’t heard from Newt in 44 years. Not since Credence died.” Anger pulsated through her veins. “You can imagine my surprise when suddenly I found myself with a phoenix and a one-liner informing me that he was sending an acquaintance over who had urgent need of my particular … skill set.”

Skill set? Scamander had told him to get this woman’s permission. Now it sounded like she expected to be recruited.

Severus cleared his throat: “As you probably can tell from my age, I am a student a Hogwarts. There was a violent death in 1943, it’s quite a famous case. A student was killed in the girl’s bathroom by a creature. They thought they got the culprit but when I looked through the evidence, I discovered that it couldn’t have been a Giant Spider. They don’t kill like that. Mr Scamander agreed. There must be a Basilisk hidden somewhere at Hogwarts. It hasn’t been active lately but it could attack again anytime. That’s why it needs to be exterminated before another incident happens. But I don’t know how.” He paused like he had practiced in front of the bathroom mirror. “Mr Scamander agrees that the Basilisk is a problem but he refuses to share his knowledge on how to fight it unless you approve. He says we need to respect its life even if it is a deadly monster.”

Her eyes were just as burning as those of the phoenix on her shoulder. She didn’t blink much either.

“Correct me if I am wrong but any attempt to extract it alive would endanger either the teachers or students in the castle, or us who have to fight it. That’s why I am certain that there is no other solution than to kill it.” Severus finished the argument he had prepared for the last week.
.
“No other solution?” the woman repeated, distaste colouring every syllable. “I see one. Just ask the Basilisk to leave the castle peacefully.”

Severus must have misheard. “It’s a deadly snake in a school full of children! We can’t take any risks!”

“So what? Dumbledore’s killed before, too. And he lives in a school full of children, too.”

Severus needed a second to overcome the initial shock. “That’s hardly comparable,” he spat. “We’re talking about a monster!”

“I don’t see the difference.”
Ice-cold hatred.
Murderous intent.
Severus flinched as her emotions hit him straight in the face.
In front of this woman with her unsettling way of looking at him without any blinking, he felt like prey.
“Maybe the Basilisk will do us all a favour and kill Dumbledore next.”

Severus felt deeply uncomfortable, and what the heck, Scamander, wasn’t this woman supposed to be all live and let live?

“Alright,” he said slowly, collecting his thoughts while babbling. Would Scamander give him another chance if he returned and told him that his contact had gone round the bent since he last met her? “Eh, thank you for your time. I’ll tell Scamander that you believe the Basilisk shouldn’t be killed.”

What now, though? Telling Scamander about the Horcruxes as a last-ditch effort? Maybe.
First, he would have to get away from this woman, though. He definitely did not want to become involved in assassination plans against Albus Dumbledore. Not again.

He tried to stand up quickly and leave, but the woman grabbed his hands lightning fast. “You weren’t listening, were you?” There was an edge to her voice. “I suggested talking to the Basilisk.”

Yes, and Severus had definitely tried not to judge her a crazy person for that, thanks for reminding him of that absolutely insane alternative to killing a fifty feet venomous snake.

“I am not sure what kind of result you expect from talking to a Basilisk,” he said hesitantly.

Again there the woman was with her smile full of bitterness but also melancholy. “Newt hasn’t just sent you my way for moral support, you know. You need me. I am your greatest asset when it comes to dealing with a Basilisk.”

The phoenix on her shoulder trilled sorrowfully.

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Excuse my rudeness, but how could help you help? Are you going to predict its movements with your inner eye? Or throw tea cups at it? Send a dream message into its brain?”

“I will speak to it,” she said, her eyes cold as steel. “Then we decide whether it needs to die or not.”

“You’re … a Parselmouth?” he asked with a frown.

“You don’t listen well, boy, do you?” The woman shook her head softly. Then, she ripped his reality apart. “I told you that I am a monster. Let’s say I have earned the name Nagini.” She crossed her arms in front of her chest. “I am what is commonly referred to as a Maledictus. Every female ancestor of mine would slowly lose their humanity – with each transformation, we would return as less until nothing but the snake remains.”

A shiver ran down Severus’ body as realization hit him hard enough to squeeze all air out of his lungs.

Kill her.

Severus didn’t dare move even a muscle under her unblinking, unyielding gaze.

He couldn’t be sure he would be faster.

Fucking kill her.

She didn’t know who he was.
She wouldn’t know him to be a mortal enemy.
He had an advantage over her.
Could stop her.

Severus could feel her fangs in his neck, the itch of a ghost-like memory of a future not yet happened.

She sat so innocently in front of him, so frail. So pretty.

She hated Dumbledore, he realised.
She wanted him dead. She wanted him to suffer.
He could see it in front of his eyes. This time, Nagini burying her fangs not in his neck but in Dumbledore’s.

Fucking kill her already.

“You become a snake,” he whispered devoid of all emotion. He had been quiet for too long.

Don’t let her know what you’re thinking. What you’re planning.

You have to be faster. Wait for an opening.

“I do. It will allow me to talk to your Basilisk and get his perspective before we decide how to get rid of him.”

Severus grabbed the table hard enough to turn his hands white. “What’s the price of your services?” He still couldn’t put more energy into his voice. It was hard enough to speak while trying not to hyperventilate.
He was acutely aware of his wand in his backpack.
How many seconds would she need to transform? To snap her venomous fangs into him?
His breathing had slowed as his body entered survival mode. He couldn’t be prey. He needed to be a predator.

“There’s something I want in that castle,” she mused. “But don’t worry. Once you get me inside Hogwarts, I’ll take it myself.” There was burning desire in her voice. “You just need to smuggle me in as your pet. Then your permission to pass through the wards will be extended to me.”

“…Will you hurt anyone at Hogwarts?” he asked, feverishly searching for her intentions in her eyes with all the might he could muster. He did not trust Nagini. At all. Especially since he had picked up on her baseline emotions. Since he knew what would become of her.

“That won’t work on me,” the woman said without anger or ridicule. “I am not human enough anymore for these mind games, boy.”

Severus blanched, withdrawing his efforts of Legilimency instantly. He waited for punishment, but she seemed not to take his attempt personally.

“…Alright.” He bit his lip nervously, still waiting for his opening. She was too dangerous. Especially since he couldn’t even read her mind. He only needed a second of an opening. If only the bloody phoenix would make a ruckus or fly around or something. Just something to take up her attention for one second so that he could grab his wand. “Scamander praised you a lot, you know. He really respects you for valuing the life of all living beings.”

No reaction. Only that snake-like stare without much blinking.

“You’re supposed to be like a role model for me. I think that was Scamander’s plan when he sent me here.”

“A plan.” A harsh line set around her mouth. “Yes, Dumbledore really managed to corrupt Newt. Always scheming now, always knowing best. It must be so fulfilling for Newt to finally become like the things he loves most. A monster. Seems like we finally have something in common.”

Okay.
A sane person would probably run for the hills, as Crato had put it.

Nagini was not right in the head. And apparently, Scamander didn’t know since he still thought her a friend. Lovely. At least he hoped the man hadn’t known before sending Severus into this madhouse.

“Are you going to accept my terms? Will you get me into the castle to talk to your Basilisk?” Her eyes were dead. “Or are you going to exterminate me right here, right now like any other monster?”

Severus stared at her like a deer caught in the headlights of a car.

“Don’t deny it. I can smell your intent.”
Had her eyes always had that yellow tint?

Apparate, his mind screamed at him. Apparate, you idiot.

“What will it be, Severus Snape? Do you need my skills more than you want me dead?”

She was a lunatic and a public danger only two steps beneath the Basilisk itself.
What kind of mess had Scamander gotten him into?
But yes… yes, he still needed her skills.
Fuck.
Utter madness. He was scheming how to betray Nagini before even teaming up with her. And he had the distinct feeling that she did the same.

Hesitantly, he held his hand out to Nagini. “…Deal.”

Her touch felt poisonous.

Chapter Text

Severus sighed loudly as he exited Mr and Mrs Evans’ car alongside Lily and Avery. Just seeing the entrance of King’s Cross station made him feel trapped in his own body with its deficient height and age. Going back to school sounded about as much fun as having a tooth pulled.

“Are you sure you packed all your books?” Mrs Evans asked her daughter who only rolled with her eyes.

“Not my first time, mom.”

“Mrs Evans! I think I forgot my winter boots!” Avery exclaimed suddenly, looking at the parked car in alarm.

While Mrs Evans started fussing about the clumsy boy, Severus grabbed Lily’s and his luggage. They were cutting it close already, what, with Avery having been so fascinated with the petrol station that Mr Evans had actually taught him how to fill up the car on his own. Of course, the boy had spilled some drops of gasoline on his shoes in the process.

When Severus lifted the luggage up the entrance stairs, he could feel eyes on his back. Since meeting Nagini, there had always been a suspiciously red splash of feathers in a tree nearby or a bird flying circles high above him, be it in the Evanses’ garden or in front of his bedroom window in Spinner’s End. Even now, he had the distinct impression that there was an exotic red thing sitting in a pigeon’s nest on top of the roof of the train station staring straight at him. Its tail, mostly rolled in to seem inconspicuous, slightly swished upwards as their gazes met, revealing the spectacular golden-red plume.

Fuck off, you overrated peacock, Severus sent its way, hoping that at least his emotions got across despite the inter-species language barrier.

After leaving the fair, Severus had been extremely guarded with his words. Each action in itself seemed like a move on that chessboard of theirs. He didn’t know whether Nagini could communicate with the phoenix, be it in human or snake form, but he would rather err on the side of caution. It didn’t help that he would often spot the red menace near other birds, which made him rather paranoid about all of its feathered friends. The moody phoenix, especially, seemed to enjoy showing itself to Severus as if to assert its dominance. Then there were the garden snakes that would occasionally slither across his way, for example when he had gone with Lily and Avery to the park to enjoy a sunny day.
Every tiny movement in the grass and in the air – it gave Severus the creeps.

Briskly, he walked through the doors of the train station, right underneath where the phoenix perched to remind him not to stray from his promise. The pressure on his shoulders was mounting with each step towards platform 9 ¾. Smuggling a twelve feet long snake into Hogwarts wasn’t quite as easy as putting her into a bag and carrying her through the barrier around the castle.

Severus had lived inside the wards of Hogwarts for 27 years, 9 months of which he had even maintained them as headmaster. He also had a general idea how they reacted to Animagi, what, with the debacle in Potter’s third year. Pettigrew had been able to slip in and out of Hogwarts in his rat form. Yet, Black hadn’t been able to just walk up to the castle – he had to use one of the hidden passageways instead when he attempted to kill the rat in the boys’ dormitory.
The difference had been thoroughly tested by the Order after the Dark Lord’s return since there was a real danger Pettigrew could be sent back inside to grab Potter during the school year.
The wards might be complex magic initiated by the founders themselves, but their ruleset was easy to understand. Each year, the headmaster would spell the wards on September 1 to re-admit students for ten months based on the enrolment records in the archive. Once the students passed the barrier on that day, be it by foot or carriage or boat, they were keyed into the wards and then free to come and go for the holidays or a Hogsmeade weekend.
Of course, Pettigrew and Black hadn’t been on the enrolment parchment, so technically, none of them should have been able to pass. However, Pettigrew had had one distinct advantage over Black, which made all the difference. He was carried into the castle by a Weasley child that was registered for re-admittance to Hogwarts. The wards thus extended the child’s permission to its pet by default. Only after the incident in Potter’s third year did Dumbledore add the enchantment to check the mind rather than the body form of all living beings that passed the wards.

Three things were clear: First, if he wanted to successfully smuggle Nagini inside to find the Chamber of Secrets, she needed to get registered by the wards on September 1. It had to be today if they wanted to use the warding loophole. Second, Nagini had to be in her snake form to trick the wards. Third, she would have to be close to Severus to signal to the wards that she was his pet.
It would be so much easier if Nagini had a more agreeable animal form like a kitten or even a toad. Something you could carry in your arms.
The biggest challenge was how to get her inside without being spotted by the hundreds of children who also were on the way to get into Hogwarts.

But needs must.
Severus hadn’t let the past two weeks go by idly.
As he had told Scamander: He was good at thinking things through.

***

The train had already left King’s Cross when they finally found the compartment Mary had reserved for them. Severus couldn’t but exchange a soft grin with the girl who slouched on her seat, pensively twirling her blond locks.

“Gosh, I missed you, Mary! You look great! Like you are much more relaxed than at the end of last year,” Lily complimented, throwing herself into the seat next to her best friend. “Did you do something fun during the holidays?”

“Nothing too exciting.” Severus raised an eyebrow at Mary’s blatant lie. “How about you three?”

Severus quietly made use of his height, putting all of their luggage in the storage compartments above before taking his seat opposite of Mary, nudging her feet to the side, so that they rested next to his legs. Avery, too, settled down a bit timidly.

“You won’t believe how much Avilius here doesn’t know about Muggles,” Lily teased.

“I know loads!”

“Yeah, noooow you do.”

Between Lily’s quips, Mary’s questions and Avery’s excited re-telling of going shopping, watching a movie at the cinema and getting swimming lessons, Severus let himself be swept up by the nostalgic atmosphere. He put his head back and simply enjoyed listening to the buzzing conversation around him. Severus could remember the train ride from Hogwarts to King’s Cross so well. It had been the same people stuck together, yet now everything felt so much more intimate. More comfortable.

“Hey, Lily,” Mary asked after about an hour, once Avery became a bit less bubbly. “Any chance you have a fun story about Potter up your sleeve? Tit for tat, right? You wanted me to spill all the details on my visit to Sev’s grandparents in your last letter.”

“Our visit to my wha-!” Mary’s foot nudged into his thigh. “Oh, yeah! That trip. Sure.” She couldn’t fault him for that. With all those lies, Severus was losing track of what they had been telling whom.

Mary cleared her throat: “So, did you meet up with Potter? He wanted to visit, right?”

Lily shook her head with blushed cheeks as red as her hair. “We had a date. I mean, we had set a date!”, she corrected herself quickly, throwing a nervous glance towards Severus. “He got himself into some trouble with Sirius, though. His parents grounded him. Something about going to a Muggle festival and doing magic?”

Severus bit his tongue. Oh, well. It really wasn’t his place to make a scathing remark about breaking the rules during the holidays.

“God, what did these idiots do?” Mary moaned, hiding her face behind her palm in exasperation.

“James was a bit vague on the details. You know how he is. He’s not good at admitting out loud to a mistake even when he knows that he was in the wrong. Anyways, they were arrested on the spot, and Dumbledore was called in to testify about their character, because, you know, the ministry’s become very sensitive when Purebloods do magic around Muggles, even if it’s just for entertainment rather than harming them. It’s underaged magic, too. So, the Aurors gave James and Sirius a double slap on their wrists. Sirius’ parents were foaming, though, when they had to get him from the ministry. Not about the magic, mind you. About hanging out with Muggles! Can you imagine? James says they can be really unkind.”

“Too bad,” Mary commented. “Maybe you can go together to Hogsmeade instead?”

Lily nodded, averting her eyes towards the window out of embarrassment.

The headmaster certainly had been busy these holidays. No wonder he had been in such a god-awful mood after Severus had accidentally set a forest on fire.

Suddenly, Lily gasped, pointing towards the sky outside. “Isn’t that a phoenix?”

Severus heart sank, not looking towards the source of attention, since he already knew it would be there.
Blasted bird.

“Could that be Dumbledore’s?” Avery asked, somewhat nervous. “Could he have sent it to keep an eye on us?”

“Don’t make a fool of yourself. Probably just an eagle.”

“That’s no eagle, Sev,” Lily replied, anger already colouring her voice at his disregard of her opinion.

“That’s really not an eagle,” Mary added unhelpfully to the topic.

Severus threw her a quick glance, begging her silently to drop the topic already before pushing the small train curtains towards the middle, so that at least he himself couldn’t see the phoenix anymore. “Have you turned into a birdwatcher during the past two weeks, Mary? I thought you didn’t know your blackbirds from your crows.”

Her foot playfully stabbed him into the side before withdrawing from his seat. “I know more birds than you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Urgh.” Lily rolled her eyes. “You both are such a weird couple. I can’t say your dialogue is even remotely romantic, and yet I want to barf listening to you.”

“You should have heard him whisper on the phone,” Avery commented. “When your family was watching TV and he snuck into the kitchen to call her. It was all I trust you and No, I can’t tell you, I can’t. I caaaaan’t.”

“Did you listen?” Severus asked sharply. He had avoided using dangerous words. Avoided using specifics. Yet, it made him feel quite uncomfortable to have been spied upon.

“I was getting some water from the kitchen tap. Not my fault you were too lovey-dovey to notice me in the hallway.”

“If I catch you snivelling rat spying on me again, I will hex you infertile,” Severus promised with narrowed eyes.

“You know something else I overheard?” Avery said with a pout and a squeaky voice. “You’re supposed to be nicer to me. Petunia said so.”

“Well, I am nice enough to give you a warning instead of hexing you on the spot, aren’t I?”

***

Severus could tell from the vast green hills and untouched forest as well as the slowing down of the train that they were approaching Hogsmeade station. Lily and Mary had already gone to the bathroom to change into their uniforms, leaving him alone with Avery who was bouncing in his seat. The boy’s restlessness had increased throughout the train ride. Severus couldn’t fault him for it. The other Slytherins would hardly welcome him back into their circle, what, with the fact that he had spilled all the information he had had about the Diagon Alley plan to the Aurors.
Nobody liked a turncoat.
In a way, Severus was looking forward to the other Slytherins’ reaction. Finally, there was someone who ranked even more poorly than he himself did. Maybe this was the year he wouldn’t get the bed next to Mulciber’s. He could do without that boy’s snoring.

“Do you think they’re still mad at me?” Avery asked in a hushed tone. “Mrs Evans helped me write some apologies and I explained my actions and …. but nothing came back.”

Well, based on the second-hand Daily Prophet Severus regularly received from Crato’s owl after he had asked the boy to keep him updated, it hadn’t just been Avery’s father who had been rounded up in the attack. It certainly didn’t help that the ministry had passed Crouch’s Speedy Proceedings Bill by two votes. As far as Severus could tell, the Death Eaters caught during the Diagon Attack were the lucky ones. They hadn’t lost their right to a trial because the Bill was introduced a week after their arrest. The trial date hadn’t been announced in the Daily Prophet yet, though. Which made Severus suspect that the ministry was trying to prosecute them under the new laws instead, which would get them the Kiss instantly. This delay in a trial date … it hinted at a battle behind closed doors in the Wizengamot about how to apply the laws.

Of course, Severus had kept Avery shielded from any and every information on his father’s fate. There simply was no need for him to know. The matter was out of their hands.

“You turned traitor. Of course, they’re mad. What did you expect?”

“I thought … we were friends.”

Severus rolled his eyes, quickly averting his gaze when he caught sight of red feathers swishing past their train window. “If they weren’t cowards, they’d stab you in the back in your sleep to revenge their dads.”

Avery cowered in his seat, grabbing his stomach as if in pain. “Do you think … do you really think so?”

“They’re kids. They’re not capable yet of doing any substantial harm. Don’t worry.”

Apparently, the stupid-children-argument didn’t convince Avery who was of the same age. “They know loads of dark curses!”

“Then you better not turn your back on them.”

“Can we share?” Avery bit on his bottom lip.

“Did you just really ask to sleep in my bed?” Severus raised his eyebrow. “The answer’s no.”

Avery became more agitated and fidgeted with his hands. “You owe me,” he said, “You have to protect me!”

“I owe you jack-“
Before Severus could cut down the boy, the girls returned to the compartment.

“You boys need to hurry! We’re going to be there in -“ Lily stopped mid-sentence, noticing the tense atmosphere.

“Everything alright?” Mary eyed them worriedly.

Severus stood up abruptly, grabbed his bag, and brushed past the girls. “I need a word with you,” he whispered. He could feel Mary’s distress – yes, it was time.
Despite her anxiety, she followed him outside the compartment without any hesitation.

Severus didn’t acknowledge Mary who walked several feet behind him as if she was tailing him. Busily, he navigated through the crowds of students that already gathered near the exits in anticipation of their arrival at Hogsmeade station. Some first-years were having a competition about who could already perform the most spells. Severus dodged a badly-cast Lumos as the blob of light started to ping-pong from wall to wall after the child lost control of it.
Quietly, he moved from shadow to shadow, hiding behind student groups whenever he could, always mindful to keep away from the windows to his best effort.
Some of his classmates that were loitering around outside their compartments recognised him. Threw the odd mean comment, snake, half-blood, mudblood, ugly git. It wasn’t the insults that hurt. It was the attention. Severus moved past those students as quickly as he could.

The bathroom in the next carriage was occupied by the Marauders. Severus was quick to bend over, so that he wouldn’t be visible behind the group of fourth-years. In their shadow, he passed Potter and Black who were banging against the door, complaining to Pettigrew to “already get his pants down”.
There was a rather mean gash on Black’s face, and his eyes were burning angrily. His summer holidays apparently hadn’t been to his tastes.

The bathroom in the next carriage was occupied too, but they were Hufflepuff second-years, so Severus simply commanded them to leave. The boys scuttled away, throwing him a frightened glance.
Yes. He still had it in him.
As soon as Severus entered, Mary followed, diving under his arm that held the door open. There were a couple of other second-years loitering around, but all of them averted their eyes fearfully when Severus glared at them. Then, he closed the door behind Mary and himself.

The stall was rather cramped, so he had to lean against the tiles and support his weight on the metal sink to make room for Mary.

As soon as the lock clicked, Mary started to gush: “I couldn’t get the last train compartment, sorry! I tried! I was really early but -”

“It’s fine.” Severus’ eyes slid towards the narrow window. Was he becoming paranoid or could he even spot that blasted bird’s tail feather hanging down behind those bars? Did that thing sit on the train roof above them?
Hastily, he turned on the tap and let the splashing of the running water fill the tiny bathroom to cover their voices as best as he could.

“I figured that it was only a slim chance we would get that advantage. Even if we sat in the last compartment, it wouldn’t have been a guarantee that I could slip away without being seen. You did well enough,” he said. “You ready to go big?”

Mary bit her bottom lip and refused to look him in the eyes. “I don’t want Lily to get angry at you. You both seem to be doing so much better than last year.”

“Don’t worry about me. In fact, I want you to slander my reputation as best and publicly as you can.”

“I just don’t understand. Why do we have to-“

He cut her off savagely: “It’s necessary.”
His eyes slid towards the roof. Towards the unwanted set of ears.

“I just .. what about Mulciber? I thought … I thought you’d protect me?”

Severus sighed. “You don’t get rid of me that easily,” he promised, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll keep him in line.”

“Alright. Your way, as usual.”
Mary was still reluctant, just as she had been when he had told her about the plan on the phone.

Severus closed his eyes for a second to steel himself for the humiliation that was about to come. “I need you to keep Lily and Ave close to you for the next hour. Don’t let them come after me.”

“Do we really have to go through this hassle? This sounds unnecessarily complicated.” Mary said. “Just … tell the others you forgot something on the train once we get to the carriages? And then use a cloaking charm to keep out of sight?”

Yeah, that plan wouldn’t do. This wasn’t just about buying himself an excuse to rush off on his own.

“Cloaking charms are too weak to hold up in such a crowd. People will walk into me, or the sun will shimmer off me. Haven’t you learned anything in Charms?”

“Geez, not everyone can be such a know-it-all. And why would I need to know when you already know it?”

He rolled his eyes, cautiously glancing towards the barred window. Yes, definitely a red and golden tail feather.

“Can you really not tell me what this is about? Just because I trust you to have good intentions doesn’t mean that I enjoy making a fool of you and myself in front of the entire school.”

“As I said. You have to trust me.”

“And as I said on the phone I’ve got enough of your secrecy. Just tell me why you need a diversion to sneak into Hogsmeade. And why you refuse to compromise on that stupid plan of yours.”

Severus eyed the red tail feather, then he put his fingers under Mary’s chin to raise her head until they were staring into each other’s eyes. She allowed his touch.
“I love it when you’re feisty,” he said as loud as he could without being too obvious about his intentions. “But this is not something for pretty girls like you. Let me take care of my own business.”

Mary opened her mouth as fury lines grew on her forehead, but Severus shook his head, enforcing their eye contact.
Mary, that phoenix you spotted is observing my every move, my every word. Even inside Hogwarts, we will not be safe from prying ears. There’s no time to explain everything. I am actually sorry about dragging you into another mess blindly. Please, I need you to trust me once more even if I may not deserve it.

Mary hesitated, then her chin moved under his fingers into a sharp nod.

After today, we cannot communicate anymore. Not out loud, not wordlessly. Do you understand? She must think you completely irrelevant. The person I’m about to deal with is dangerous. I need her for something, but she’s also a back-stabber. Worst of all: she has some knowledge of my capabilities. That’s why I need you to be my queen in this game of chess I am playing with her. You need to be able to move freely on this board. She mustn’t keep track of you. You are my endgame.

It had been stupid to try to legilimize Nagini.
It had been stupid to call Crato to to apparate him home. However, being stuck in Scotland hadn’t left him any other choice than to reveal his ally to her.

“I love your eyes,” Severus said to downplay the long gaze they were exchanging.

“Thanks.” Mary still looked at his face, prodding him to read her thoughts. “I love you, too.”
What do you need me to do after today?

You need to always know where Dumbledore is. Keep track of him. Find out the passwords to his quarters. To his office. There will come a time that I will tell you to warn him. Maybe tonight, maybe tomorrow, maybe in a week or a month. When I give you the signal, you need to find him first. You need to tell him that Nagini is inside the castle and out for his blood. Remember that name. Nagini.

Mary gulped, breaking eye contact of her own volition. She nodded.

Severus put his hand next to her head, shielding her from the window with his own body. They were close enough for a kiss.

You’re my last line of defence, Mary. Be ready for my command.

Then, they ran out of time. The train came to a halt in Hogsmeade station.

***

Mary burst out of the stall, dragging Severus outside with her, then slapping him across the face with all her might, drawing the compartment’s attention on them. One of the students actually toppled over, as he had already one foot on the outside stairs but when he turned around, he lost his balance, landing on his bum on the platform in Hogsmeade station.

“You fucking cheated on me, you asshole!” Mary shouted, pushing Severus away from her and into another student. “You said nothing happened in the club when you went with that friend of yours. You liar!”

“Oh, get a grip, you hysterical bitch!”

“You! Fucking! Bastard!” Mary threw in another punch to his chest, while Severus pushed her away from him, also raising his voice.
The students around them were mesmerized by the furious fight that unfolded from 0 percent emotion to 100. Severus could spot Lupin in the crowd. Amazing timing for once.

“Well, if you put out, maybe I wouldn’t have to get it elsewhere,” he mocked, running out of things to escalate the argument, so that it would stick in every student's mind.

“I don’t want to see you again! Ever!”

“Likewise!”

“Get lost, then! Get lost!” Mary pushed against him once more, and this time, Severus used the chance to deliberately throw her back against Lupin, who caught her instinctively. Then, Severus took two strides towards the exit, jumped off, and made a dash for it before anyone could follow him.

***

Severus only stopped in his zig-zag dash through the alleys of Hogsmeade when he arrived at the Hog’s Head. The windows were shut, and there was nobody in sight. Nervously, he walked behind it, making sure that nobody was following him.

“Guess this is the part where you tell me I am late,” he joked quietly, mostly to calm his nerves, as he spotted a slithering motion from the roof. Her scales shimmered between the tiles, as Nagini slowly let her body hang down the bulding, then slide onto a rain barrel. There, she curled up, her tongue flicking and her head slowly bobbing from left to right. “Or not.”

Severus bit his lip. “We need to get to the lake. It’ll be the easiest to cross by boat. It’ll show the wards that we belong together, and you can hide yourself from curious eyes in case we’re spotted on the water,” he explained. Severus felt like an idiot talking to a snake. It didn’t help that she looked at him like prey rather than showing human-like signs of understanding. A nod would help.

“Bite me once if you agree,” he muttered, quickly taking a step back when the snake’s head moved forward. “I was kidding! Stop that!”

Her eyes were yellow. So yellow.
And they rested on his neck.
He could feel his Adam’s apple vibrate when he cleared his throat: “It would be easier if you transformed back until we get to the lake. That’s quite a walk. Or slither. Whatever.”

For a second, Nagini did not react, then her body shook violently and gained rise, similar to how an Animagus’ body bent and reformed, until that melancholic Asian woman sat on top of the barrel, her legs and arms crossed as she stared at Severus with a raised eyebrow.

Instinctively, he took a step back, something that drew her attention. She had that weird tendency to act like a predator. He had noticed it before. How she would follow minute movements with her eyes almost mechanically.

“I need to get changed into the uniform, then we can leave,” he whispered.

Nagini only shrugged.

“Could you … turn around?” he asked.

“You don’t have anything I desire.”

Severus paused, internally debating whether this was one of the cases where you had to be wise about the arguments you picked. “Could you please turn around?” he repeated. “I am neither comfortable with stripping in front of you nor with going starkers out in the main alley.”

That gained him an eyeroll before she turned her neck 45 degrees to the side, looking at the outer wall of the Hog’s Head.

“You’re not much of a talker,” he said, mostly to fill the quiet while he unbuckled his jeans.

“Finding words becomes difficult right after a change.”

Awesome. Severus hurried up, not even bothering with the tie. Let the prefect take points, he didn’t care.
“You said that one day, you wouldn’t be able to shift back into a human. It is because when you’re a snake you … lose the memory of being human?”

“I remember.” Nagini closed her eyes. Marks of sorrow lined her forehead. “I am still me in that other form.”

Great. So she really was a murderer at heart and not just a victim of her curse.
Charming.

“What keeps you from transforming, then? Is it like losing control of your magic?”

“Boy,” she said, again looking at him with those yellow-tinted irises. “That has nothing to do with the Basilisk.”

Then, there was a sharp trill from above.
The phoenix sat on the rooftop. Of course, it did.

“Someone’s coming. Lead the way to the lake,” Nagini commanded, holding out her arm to the bird.

***

Severus really didn’t like turning his back on Nagini and that phoenix from hell. He really, really didn’t.
Anxiously, he led her to the edge of the Forbidden Forest; the air was cool, and he could feel the magical beings hiding in the woods. Apparently, so could Nagini, as her yellow eyes skid around, tracing rodents and small spiders that fled from their steps.
In the distance, the Hogwarts carriages pulled students towards the castle that stood proudly in the background.

“The towers. Anything important there?” Nagini pointed at the castle. Her speech was still somewhat halted.

Severus gulped. “Gryffindor and Ravenclaw House each have one tower. There’s the hospital. The Owlery.” Best not to mention that the West Tower also housed Dumbledore’s office. “Divination and Astronomy are taught up in the towers as well, of course.”

Nagini nodded.

“I suspect the Chamber will be closer to the ground,” he added, trying to re-focus her. “It was created by Salazar Slytherin, and the Slytherin dorm is in the Dungeons. Best to start there when you check out the nooks and crannies of the castle.”

Together, they made their way towards the shore of the Great Lake. Apparently, they had a head-start on Hagrid, who had to assemble the first-years and count them before taking them down to the lake himself.

“Someone hit you,” Nagini suddenly commented.

Severus put his hand on the mark Mary had left. She had tried her best to create a good slapping sound, but also to avoid hurting him with her nails. “My girlfriend didn’t like the secrets I keep. She was just a stupid brat anyway.”

Nagini hummed quietly. “You look a bit like him. But you have more of a nasty streak in you.”

“Him?” Severus asked, holding his breath. Any information on Nagini was valuable. Know thy enemy.

“Credence.”

“The friend of yours that died ages ago?”

The phoenix gave a sharp squeak.

“Ye-“ Nagini’s head suddenly jerked violently, and her mouth opened in a silent scream as her jaws were pulled wide apart by an invisible power. Severus froze instantly – her mouth closed again, her head returned to its normal, its human way of being straight on her head. “I frightened you,” Nagini noticed. “You will have to get used to these side-effects. With each transformation, they become worse as I fight for control. Don’t worry, though.” She gifted him a sad smile. “I still have a couple of transformations in me before my time comes.”

Severus’ body was stiff in its movement as they continued downhill to the lake. It probably wasn’t a great idea to ask her to give a specific quantity to that vague a couple of transformations left.

“Have you…” Severus faltered for a second. “Have you been to St. Mungo’s? Maybe there is a counter-curse or-“

Her joyless laughter made him stop mid-sentence. “There is no cure for blood curses, boy.”

“Maybe not a cure, then,” he conceded, “but something that can alleviate your… issues. It must be difficult to lose your humanity step by step.”

“Alleviate my issues?” Nagini suddenly grabbed him and pinned him in place, glaring down into his eyes. She was about 5 feet and 9 inches, roughly the same Severus would be in two years. “You mean cull me like you would cull a genetically deficient animal?”

“I was talking about pain-management,” Severus defended himself, shirking away from her touch. “And getting a therapist to work on your magical control. Stuff like that!”

“It is not your place to judge the level of pain I can endure. To judge whether my life is worth living!” Nagini was so close that he felt her spit hit him. Her fingernails were buried in his uniform collar. Severus suppressed each and every movement, waiting like an animal pretending to be dead to be released.

Screw Scamander. This woman had more issues than Severus himself!

Slowly, he raised his hands defensively to show her his empty palms. “Sorry. It wasn’t my place,” he repeated submissively, sure to pronounce each syllable clearly.

Her hands left his collar and Severus quickly took a couple of steps forward. “We need to hurry before too many students roam the hallways. If we time it right, we’ll arrive while those that arrived by carriage are still taking their luggage to their rooms.”

“It’s nobody’s place to decide when a life is no longer worth living. Nobody’s. It’s nobody’s place to decide whether a life is worth living or not,” he heard her mutter behind his back, over and over again, while she followed him down to the lake shore accompanied by the soft trills of the phoenix.

She was crazy. Utterly crazy.
He didn’t get paid enough for thi- oh. He didn’t get paid at all.
Severus felt like hitting his head against one of those damn trees they were passing.

***

Stealing one of Hagrid’s boats and rowing Nagini and himself to the castle was actually the easy part. As predicted, nobody spotted their arrival, seeing as that the older students were busy unpacking while the firsties hadn’t arrived yet.

The hardest part was letting Nagini slither down the Hogwarts hallways on her own while Severus had to watch her go off completely unchecked.
For all he knew, she would directly go up to Dumbledore’s office to bite his neck through.
No, he reminded – convinced - himself. Nagini had promised to help with the Basilisk. He hadn’t felt any deception there. If she betrayed him … it would happen then. Not before.

Still, he felt uneasy and uncertain watching her disappear into the shadows with barely a promise to report back to him soon.

Nagini had put it this way once she entered the small boat: “I will find you.” Then, she had transformed into her snake form and let herself be rowed past the wards.

Severus’ itched for a bath – he felt dirty from head to toe. Yet he had the uncomfortable notion that he could scratch himself raw with the soap and still he would feel just as tainted.

Reluctantly, he stumbled into the opposite direction once he could no longer spot Nagini’s scales at the end of the corridor.

***

The mood in the Slytherin dorm was tense, but for once, nobody paid attention to Severus as he entered. The boys’ eyes were fixated on Avery who sat on the bed closest to the door. He had his arms slung around his knees, pressing them towards his chest. Unlike on the train, he now was completely still – and his face was ashen, his eyes red with unshed tears.

“Oi, Snape, heard you sacked your Mudblood ,” Macnair commented.

“Told you Macdonald was a bitch.” Macnair had grown a slight stubble over the summer holidays. His eyes were as cold as always.

Both boys were already done unpacking and now sat on their beds, too, which left Severus with the only free bed in the room. Next to Avery and Mulciber. Great.

“Did you grab my suitcase?” he asked Avery quietly, who didn’t react. He only stared at Severus as if he were a ghost.

There were no marks on the boy.
Well, so far as he had predicted.
Avery would simply have to learn how to survive their words.

Severus let his eyes slid over the other Slytherins, then he casually lay down on his bed, taking out his wand and putting it seemingly peacefully but prominently on his bedside table. Ready for use. Not yet in use.

“So, how were your holidays?” Severus asked smoothly.

***

“You left me,” Avery croaked in a whisper, while the boys made their way to dinner and the evening sorting. “You fucking left me behind, Snape!”
Despite his anger, Avery was almost hugging him. The boy pawed at his clothes in an attempt to secure Severus to his side.

“Don’t treat me like a stuffed toy.” Severus tried to free his arm, but Avery clung to him with all his might. The other boy even breathed down his neck quite literally.

“They said they would kill me! They said … they said…”
Avery buried his face in Severus’ shoulder. Oh god, were those tears?

Severus dragged Avery into the Great Hall because the boy was essentially dead weight.

“I don’t want to be a Slytherin anymore,” Avery mumbled into Severus’ shoulder.

“Ask for a re-sorting then. Today’s the day.”

His sarcasm managed to jerk some more tears out of Avery.

Walking down the Slytherin table made Severus’ hairs stand up. He was used to glares, to comments … but this was pure murderous intent. Directed at Avery.

Severus pressed his lips together and soldiered on towards the empty seats at the end of the table near the teachers’ table. From his left, he could hear the Ravenclaws whisper, too.
“Dan saw it. She slapped him hard! You can still see it if you squint.”

“Maybe the Amortentia wore off.”

“Heard he slept with Evans.”

“I heard he slept with Evans’ brother!”

“Ran off like a girl. Think he might have been crying.”

“Did you see that poor girl? She was so upset, she wouldn’t let anyone close to her other than that other Gryffindor girl.”

“Well, that’s what you get for going for the bad boys. Snape’s just a nasty piece of work.”

“You really should apologize to Macdonald,” Avery muttered near his ear, “She wouldn’t stop crying. She held onto me until we arrived at the Gryffindor tower. And she doesn’t even like me.”

“You should know from experience that some things are beyond apologies,” Severus commented harshly. That got Avery to shut up.

“Oi, Snape!” Definitely Potter’s voice. Severus concentrated on not looking up. Not glancing at the Gryffindor table where he would probably spot Lily and Mary. “How does it feel to be such a piece of shit? You’re fucking dead, Snape! I told you not to mess with the girls!”

“James, stop it!” Lily’s voice cut the deepest despite not being directed at him. “It’s not any of your business! That’s between Mary and Sev. Leave him alone!”

Finally, they reached the empty seats at the end of the Slytherin table. Severus and Avery were about to sit down when a tiny second-year girl with a sharp nose threw her glass of pumpkin juice to the side so that the fluid spilled all over the table cloth and the bench where they wanted to sit down.
“Oops,” she said with a glare. Severus recognised her voice rather than her face. Alecto Carrow. Which made the plump boy next to her Amycus. “Guess you have to sit and eat on the floor. That’s where rats belong anyway.”

Severus merely raised his eyebrow, got out his wand and was about to perform a cleaning spell, when a warm hand patted him on the shoulder in a friendly greeting.
“You really attract messy situations, Snape.” Crato looked ridiculous in the yellow colours of Hufflepuff, especially with that scarf. Then, the 17-year-old boy took him into a good-natured headlock, before releasing him immediately. “Heard about your entertaining day. I would offer you a drink, man to man, to drown your sorrows, but pumpkin juice just doesn't do it for me. Maybe next Hogsmeade weekend?"

"You just want me to pay for your drinks again."

Crato smirked. "You know me so well."

“Yeah, hard pass. Besides, hanging out with you could seriously cramp my style. You do realise it’s the first day back at Hogwarts and not the first Quidditch game?”

“Don’t mock my scarf,” Crato snickered softly, pulling it down a bit to reveal a bite mark. Then, he winked and put the cloth back into place. “Wanna sit with me and Ben”, he pointed towards a guy at the Hufflepuff table that had the body of a Beater and hair red enough to grant him an honorary spot in the Weasley family, “and bet where the little firsties go? We accept dares rather than money in case you’re broke.”

That was the most stupid, and most idiotic, and most useless thing Severus had ever heard. “Count us in.”

When Severus sat down between the seventh-year Hufflepuffs, he looked up at the staff table for a split second. Dumbledore was directly staring at him, his thoughts and feelings closely guarded behind the stone walls of Occlumency that left one's face expressionless. Their eyes met. Neither Dumbledore nor Severus broke contact. Then, Severus nodded respectfully, before turning his head towards Crato.

Chapter Text

“Are we going to be Hufflepuffs from now on?” Avery whispered in the darkness.
The other boys in their dorm were fast asleep – and Severus had thought Avery to have drifted off as well. It was well past midnight. Even Macnair had gone to sleep early, so that he would be on time for his first class tomorrow in case it was Transfigurations. Minerva always had that effect on students, although she never exploded in front of a class like Severus had done. There was something about that Scottish brogue, the stern mouth. You just didn’t want to be reprimanded by her.

Severus suppressed the instinctive groan. “Go to sleep.”

“I don’t like not being liked.”

“You should write a book with that capability for prose.”

Avery huffed from his bed. Severus didn’t dare twist around because he was sure he would find the boy turned towards him like a lost puppy. Avery's dare-devil attitude that he had developed in Cokeworth once he acclimatised himself to Muggle life had faded instantly after facing the wrath of the Slytherins during the start-of-year feast.

“Can’t you beg McGonagall and Sluggy to accept you into their classes? You’re clever enough, and –“

“Not interested.”

“But I’ll be all alone!”

Severus sighed, staring at the ceiling above his head. “You do know that the girls won’t mind you hanging out with them? Just because Mary and I aren’t talking anymore doesn’t mean they’ll ignore you.”

Avery gave a small sound of surprise. “You won’t mind?”

God, no. How was Severus supposed to go Dark-Lord-fighting with that bumbling idiot hanging off his apron strings, well, uniform trousers? “You’re welcome to make friends.”

“Okay. I'll try. But ... just so you know. I think you’d make a horrible Hufflepuff,” Avery mumbled, finally burying his head in his pillow by the sound of it. “Yellow would look awful on you.”

Severus listened to the other boy’s breathing that began to even out. The dorm lay peaceful, yet he could not find it in himself to close his eyes.
Somewhere in the castle, Nagini was slithering around.

***

Lazily, Severus observed the coming and going of the students in the Great Hall from his new-found seat next to Crato and Ben. Breakfast was almost over and the prefects were done handing out the students’ timetables. In Severus’ and Avery’s case, Mulciber had just flung the paper in their general direction, so that they had to pick it up off the floor.

“Your schedule has more holes than classes,” was Crato’s comment when the other boy had to leave for Charms, still smelling of the sickly-sweet apricot jam and grasping his own timetable. “How do the teachers let you get away with this? That’s mental.”

“Yeah, right? It’s a crime!” Avery chimed in.

“Sue me”, Severus drawled, “and have a nice time in Potions.”

Avery groaned loudly before hurrying after the group of Gryffindor girls.

Crato’s eyes flickered back to Severus while he had one leg still under the bench, the other already out. “Don’t get into trouble without me.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “I wouldn’t dare.”

“Any progress on your … essay topic for Kettleburn?”

“It’s a work in progress.”

“My friends are making fun of me, you know,” Crato confessed, awkwardly rubbing his neck before finally pulling his other leg over the bench. “Because I am scared of the dark now, thanks to you. I see monsters under our beds.”

“Can't blame you. You never know what’s hiding underneath you,” Severus replied quietly.

Crato grimaced before waving his quite filled timetable through the air.

Behind the boy's retreating figure, Severus spotted Dumbledore who had left his seat up at the staff table already and was about to leave the Great Hall. Their eyes met.

***

Thursdays were awesome for Severus as he had only double Herbology after lunch. Taking four classes had been a stroke of genius. Once the Great Hall emptied itself, he hurried off towards the library with new-found vigour.
Project “How to kill a Basilisk” began. The scales were the biggest issue – he sort of had an inkling that Fiendfyre could deal with the Horcrux but magical beasts were fiendishly difficult to kill. Especially reptiles were known to withstand curses quite easily.
He sort of had an idea where to start, what, with having been forced to watch the Tri-Wizard Tournament as a good role model. Those champions - well, apart from Potter - had done their research into how to deal with the resistant dragon skin. The stands had been too far away to catch their spells, but Krum’s dragon had been blinded, which was a great idea considering the fact that a Basilisk’s gaze was lethal. Then there was the trance-sleep spell the blond girl from Beauxbatons had used. Both incantations might have been non-English, so he would have to widen his search.

***

That ugly bird really loved to follow him. Severus ignored the thing that sat on the windowsill despite its occasional trills. The library was deserted apart from his own presence, as students until sixth year had a full set of classes and nobody in their right mind would be found studying on the first day of the school year at 9 am. Not even Hermione Granger. Well, she would have taken all NEWT classes available and be stuck in a lecture instead.

“Quite diligent, Mr Snape, to prepare ahead of your classes,” Irma said, while she put some books on the shelves behind Severus’ workdesk. Of course, the phoenix had flown off when the woman approached. Bloody menace.

“Do you have more French curse compendiums somewhere?”

The librarian narrowed her eyebrows. “That’s… oddly specific.”

“Do you?”

“In the Restricted Section, sure,” she answered more slowly. “But I think you should wait for your classes to begin. I am sure Professor Bones will be impressed with your efforts already.”

Ah, yes. Their new Defence teacher. Severus remembered the man from his first time around – a plain, soft-spoken man who had been part of the Order. Dumbledore sure was running out of options to fill the position if he risked his own people. During the start-of-year feast, Crato had whispered some information about the man into his ear. A pureblood, of course, and disgraced for marrying a Squib. His niece would have the same chubby face. Susan Bones had always been a diligent, if not mousy student. She knew how to follow instructions in Potions class, something that had made Severus grudgingly respect the girl.

“I’ll get a signed pass from Professor Bones by the end of the week,” he promised. “Reserve those books for me, please.”

“Students these days,” he heard her mumble, as the librarian went back to her desk, “always so uppity. No respect for their elders.” While Severus was scribbling down an incantation that sounded promising – some curse that was supposed to rot away organic material - he heard Irma start a discussion with Slughorn, of all people.
Was it already lunch time?
Severus sighed, dreading that Avery would probably hound him any minute since Potions class seemed to be over.

“You sent me an owl, Irma?”

“Your parcel has arrived.”

“Splendid.” Slughorn’s booming voice went up in joy. Then, there was the sound of paper being torn open. “This will come in handy. After all, the full moon –“

“There’s a student in the back!” Irma’s voice cut the potions professor off.

“A student? On the first day of classes?”

Severus did not move a muscle as he sat head-bent over the page of the rotting curse. Full Moon. When … ah. About a week.
Great. That was one day he probably should not sneak around the castle. Severus marked the day in his mental calendar.

“One of yours. Mr Snape is preparing for Professor Bones’ class.”

“Mr Snape?” There was something dubious in Slughorn’s voice, and Severus was sure the man was gawking in his direction. “Ah, yes. He doesn’t have a lot of classes. Irma, thank you for the parcel. I’ll put it to good use.”

To Severus’ chagrin, the heavy footsteps of his Head of House drew closer rather than leaving the library. When the man came to a stop next to his workdesk, there was no pretending not to notice him anymore.

“Good morning, Sir.”

Severus looked up and forced himself into an innocently neutral facial expression. Not a smile. That would be highly alarming to the man.

“Mr Snape. I hope your book is … interesting.”
He could see Slughorn’s eyes ghost over the page. Severus put his hands over the text oh so casually.

“Very enlightening.”

“Good, good.” Slughorn held his newly acquired magazine against his chest. There was a moon on the cover and the face of a proud potioneer. Discovery of the Century it stated.

“If that is all, professor?”

Slughorn’s face gained some red, and his neck became thicker as he pulled it towards his body like a turtle. It’s what his Head of House did when he tried to hide his anger. “You might consider giving your friend some Remedial Potions lessons,” Slughorn said. “Mr Avery did quite poorly in our first class.”

Well, that was probably an improvement to what Avery would have done before the holidays. He had been studying quite hard. “I am not sure I am qualified to do that. I don’t have a Potion OWL,” Severus said very slowly as if he was talking to a child.

They both locked eyes. “No, you don’t.” Slughorn pursed his lips. “Enjoy your … reading, Mr Snape. But not too much.”

***

Herbology was awful. It was boring, and awkward, and just plain awful.
Severus spent most of Pomona’s lecture on the importance of safety when dealing with advanced magical plants staring into nothingness. Avery was talking his ear off, telling him about what went wrong in Potions class, while Mary and Lily stood on the work aisle furthest from them. Mary, kudos to her, avoided looking at him altogether. Lily, though, pouted since he had ignored her obvious gesture to come over. He knew what she was trying to do – she wanted Mary and him to make up.
Yeah. Not happening.
To his utter annoyance, two of the Marauders shared their class as well. Lupin looked quite sickly, which made Pettigrew fawn over him. Just looking at that rat, hearing his squealy voice, watching his twitchy movements … Severus wanted to Avada Kedavra him on the spot.

“Mr Snape!”
He turned around startled by the sharp call. Pomona’s face was way too close to his, as she had positioned herself in front of his and Avery’s worktable. She was a small, roundish witch, so it wasn’t like she even reached his shoulder.
“Could you repeat what I just said?”

“No.”

There was some giggling going through the aisles, most notably from Lupin and Macnair.

“Five points off Slytherin. On the first day – I expected more from you, Mr Snape.”

Severus just shrugged it off as the Slytherins collectively broke into a hiss.

“As I just explained, you will need to check your gloves for tears before handling each individual sapling. While Professor Slughorn is quite adept at brewing antidotes, let’s not find out how quickly he can whisk something up in his old age.”

There was benign laughter now.

“Can you help me put on my gloves?” Avery asked from his side in a whisper. “They just won’t–“

Severus felt like grabbing one of those saplings without protection intentionally.

His eyes came to rest on Lupin while Avery wrangled the sapling into its new pot. A couple of its thorns broke off, emitting a pearly fluid, which had Pomona in a rush to disinfect their workbench herself.
Severus took in the other boy’s appearance, completely ignoring Avery’s panicky movements and Pomona’s calming hand gestures next to him. Lupin had grown over the summer, but as his body finally morphed into something akin to his adult version, and that chin lost the last of its child-chubbiness, his brown hair began to discolour. There seemed to be less as well - miniscule but noticeable when you knew what you had to look for. Lupin's hands trembled as he fought with their own sapling, Pettigrew being just as useless as Avery.

“Mr Snape! To the sink! Everything must be washed off!”

“I didn’t even touch it.”

“Yeah, he wasn’t helping me at all, Professor!” Avery complained. “That’s why I couldn’t do it.”

“I said: To the sink!”

Severus rolled his eyes, walking towards the end of the greenhouse. Slowly, he went through the disinfection process, cleaning his gloves, hands, arms and face. Whatever made the clock run down until his one class of the day finally finished, he supposed.
While he was soaping up his arms, Lupin joined him at the sink. The boy didn’t say anything, he just grabbed the bar from Severus’ hands. When he tried to return it, Severus pushed it away.

“I am not contagious,” Lupin snapped at him.

“Yes, you are.” Severus rolled his eyes. “Not by skin contact and not today, I grant you.”

“Shut your mouth!” The boy whispered upset. “You promised Dumbledore last year –“

“At ease. I am merely done with desinfection.” Severus patted the wolf on the shoulder before leaving for his workbench. On his way, an elongated shadow passed over his head. As if something was crawling above the greenhouse.

Yeah. Having knowledge of Nagini and the Basilisk certainly put things into perspective which monsters he should be on the lookout for.
In his mind, he recited the French flesh-rotting spell over and over.

***

Severus didn’t know what had awakened him, as he was surrounded by darkness when he opened his eyes. It took him a couple of seconds to place himself. Slytherin dorm. Right. He pressed his eyelids shut, taking in the quiet snores around him. Three different breathing rhythms. Everyone was accounted for.
Maybe a bad dream.
But he didn’t feel the deep tiredness in his legs and arms that usually came with a nightmare.
His eyes had slightly adjusted to the darkness, so he let his gaze wander over the dorm. No. everything was quiet. As he was about to close his eyes, he saw a slight movement underneath his blanket. Did he imagine –
No. Something poked against his leg.

Severus lay paralysed as the scaly thing moved over his bare legs, its weight felt crushing. He bit his tongue. Knowing what was happening was one thing. It didn’t diminish his physical reaction to Nagini’s proximity.

He did not dare move, lest he startle the giant snake whose body slithered across his bed, poking its head from underneath his blanket, now having made its way from his legs up to his torso.

Severus could feel her scales rub against his naked arm, her parted tongue flick against his neck.
She was smelling his fear. Of that he was certain.
Nagini wound herself once around his arm, pulling herself even more onto the bed. Then, the snake’s body began to twitch, until the woman kneeled over him, staring straight down into his eyes.

He couldn’t really see her in the darkness, but he could feel her hands pressing down on his wand arm that had been in the snake’s grip just a moment ago. Her dark hair fell into his face, soft curls bobbing against his cheeks that would be sensual in any other situation.
Severus was pinned down like prey.

“Did you spot the Basilisk?” he croaked, trying to find his voice but failing.

“Traces. Old mice skeletons in the pipes. Unused ones.” She struggled with her words again.

He didn’t nudge her off his body, afraid of what that grip on his wand arm could mean. He remembered those yellow slit eyes from when he had smuggled her into Hogwarts all too well. She may claim to have some transformations left in her, but the snake did not seem to leave her anymore.

“Great,” he babbled. “I know a silencing spell. If you let go –“

“They’re asleep. I sensed their body temperature before I turned.”

“Can… all snakes do that?”

He probably should read up on snakes. Snakes were scary creatures.

Even in the darkness, he could tell that Nagini’s mouth curled into a smirk above his face. “Not all. I am… I don’t know. Python-like, I think. But venomous. Don’t get too close to my fangs when I am in a bad mood.”

Severus couldn’t keep his hysterical chuckle in. “I’ll try.”

Nagini shifted above him to finally release his wand arm and to let him move into a seating position against his bed headboard. She still cowered above him almost in a lover-like embrace.

Recently, people were invading his personal space way too much.

“Anything else we need to discuss?” he asked.

“You’ve been looking into bad spells.”

Bloody phoenix.
“I like to take precautions,” he whispered, not breaking eye contact where he suspected her eyes to be in the dark. “If you fail to negotiate with the Basilisk, then we do things my way. That was the deal.”

Nagini dragged out her silence for a minute. “You’re so ready to hurt and kill,” she said, her words finally resembling human speech again. “I wondered… were you made like this or born a monster like me?”

Severus shook his head slowly. “I believe every person is the product of their own choices.”

His answer repulsed her enough to retreat to the end of his bed, apparently. Her voice regained that dangerous edge that had first raised his suspicions of her mental issues at the fair. “You’re not sorry. I see. At least you don’t try to find excuses, justification, for your cruel behaviour. I suppose I can accept that.”

“I have a friend who’s brilliant at potions.” God, was he really about to ask that? Severus’ mind was too slow to stop his mouth. “Would you give us a sample of your venom to create an antidote? Just in case something goes wrong.”

Her head moved to the side in that unnatural pose that reminded him of a snake ready to strike. “That would defeat the purpose, would it not?” she asked. “If I helped you develop something that would make me defenceless against you.”

“Right now, I feel quite defenceless against you,” he whispered harshly.

Nagini huffed loudly, raising her voice far beyond what was appropriate for their whispered conversation: “I would NEVER attack an innocent person!”

“Not yet, you mean!”

“Uhh … who is that?” Avery’s voice cut through the darkness like a sword. “Lumos!”

As the spell dipped the room in an eerie light, the woman’s body above Severus turned and twisted, until the green snake slithered away through the open door in a haste.
Avery’s scream turned the Slytherin dorm into chaos.

***

“There was a woman and a snake!” Avery blubbered. “And it was green and huge and I don’t know where it went!”

“Now, now!” Slughorn put his palms on Avery’s shaking shoulders as the boy sat bent down from his bed.

“It tried to eat Severus!”

“Good riddance,” Mulciber mumbled. He and Macnair sat cross-legged on their beds, definitely uncaring about their former friend in tears, but also worried about that snake sighting. None of them had dared put their feet on the floor since they had been woken up by Avery’s shout.
Severus had refused, of course, to get their Head of House. However, Avery’s high-pitched screaming had awoken the other room as well, leaving Slytherin house in utter chaos. Some second-year girls refused to leave Slughorn’s side, and despite having nothing to do with the issue, they sat on Mulciber’s bed as well, their tiny hands buried in the blanket. Severus didn’t recognise their faces.

“So you saw a woman and a snake?” Slughorn summed up, his forehead in wrinkles.

“I heard voices and I used Lumos and… there was a snake! A huge snake!”

Severus slung his arms around his knees and drew them to his body as he sat on his bed. This was a lovely night.

“And did you also notice something?” Slughorn looked at the other three boys.

“Yes. That Avery was screaming like a little girl,” Macnair grumbled.

“Snape’s been quiet,” Mulciber said. “Did the snake eat your tongue?”

There was a soft knock on their door, as the female prefect, some fifth-grader, put her head into their room. She blushed at the sight of the four boys who wore either no shirts or only short boxershorts. “Professor. The first-years want to go home. I told them they can’t, but they said they would go home by floo!”

Slughorn cursed which made Severus raise his eyebrows. He couldn’t remember hearing those particular words ever leave the man’s lips before. “Thank you, Miss Parkinson. Gosh, tell them I will be with them in a second. Make sure they don’t walk into the fire. It’s closed, they will only burn themselves!”

The girl rushed off, throwing the door shut behind her. Severus felt with Slughorn. This was a Head of House's nightmare if there ever was one.

“Are you sure you were not dreaming, Mr Avery?” Slughorn asked, still patting the shaking and sobbing boy. He urged Avery to look up. “Could it have been a nightmare with what you experienced recently?”

“It wasn’t! Why won’t anybody believe me!” Avery pushed Slughorn away, who, considering the circumstances, allowed the violent reaction against his person. He seemed more than lost. Then Avery turned to Severus. “You must have seen it, too! You were awake! You looked at it! I saw it! It was there!”

Avery’s dark eyes bore into his, pleading, demanding, full with panic.

Severus exhaled slowly. Probably time to cut his losses before the story of a woman-snake reached Dumbledore's ears.
“It’s gone,” he stated, looking at Slughorn instead of Avery. His Head of House stared at him in confusion, then dawning suspicion. “I practiced a spell and needed a live animal. So I used Serpensortia. Ave must have mistaken the hissing for a second voice.”

“There was a woman’s voice!” Avery insisted, looking between Slughorn and Severus like a spectator of a tennis match. Slughorn, though, had no attention to spare on the boy. His eyes bore into Severus’ instead.

“You have caused tonight’s mess?”

“Yes, Sir. I am sorry.”

“Which spell did you practice?” Slughorn’s jaw was set.

Severus could see Mulciber and Macnair look at him speculatively. He was known for his creative spells. Avery, though, was shaking his head violently.

“That’s not what happened. No. No!” Everybody ignored Avery’s rambling.

“The rotting spell.”
Severus held his professor’s gaze.

“The one I explicitly forbid you to use.”
It wasn’t a question, so Severus didn’t deign it with a confirmation.

Slughorn walked a couple of steps in the room, circling it, then he looked towards the door that would lead him back to the dorm hall. Parkinson’s voice could be heard from downstairs as she argued with the students about not leaving Slytherin house.

Slughorn seemed to have decided on Severus’ fate. “50 points off Slytherin. For disrespecting a direct order, misusing magic on an animal, albeit it conjured, and causing severe anguish to your fellow students. Detention, every Friday after dinner in my office. Until Christmas. Since you seem to have too much free time to spare between classes.”

Severus grimaced. “I understand.”

Today was not his day.

“You got Sluggy to take points off Slytherin,” Mulciber said once Slughorn went downstairs to get everybody back to bed with the information that there wasn’t a murderous snake running amok in the dorm. “I don’t know whether to be impressed or murder you for getting us into minus points on the first day.”

“The spell sounds awesome, though,” Macnair added, his beady eyes turning towards Severus greedily. “Mind teaching it to us?”

“The spell’s a lie!” Avery interjected, angrily pointing at Severus. “You lied! There was a woman!”

“Oh, shut it, you idiot!” Mulciber gruffed, throwing his pillow at the other boy. “When in your entire life did you ever understand something right? Get it into your thick head that you woke up and were confused.”

“I wasn’t!” Avery stared angrily at Severus. “I wasn’t and you know it! I am going to prove you a liar, just you wait!”

Chapter Text

“Slytherin’s in minus points. How the hell did they manage that?”

“It’s zero, you idiot. You can’t go into negative numbers.”

“Did they kill someone?”

“Let’s ask ‘em in Charms what happened.”

Severus kept his head down as he sat over his bowl of cornflakes while furious whispers filled the Great Hall. Ben had merely grunted when he had sat down next to him. Crato’s friend was easy to be around. He mostly didn’t care and just wanted to be left alone. Severus could totally empathize.

Ben and about half of the Great Hall had already left for first period, when Crato finally emerged from his bed.

“Is there a reason why the Slytherins are staring daggers at you?” Crato flopped down next to him. The boy yawned, his hair sticking into all directions.

“Must be your imagination. Everybody loves me. Don’t you?”

Crato snorted. “So, whose puppy did you slaughter?”

“Metaphorically? Slughorn’s. I may have caused some grief last night,” Severus admitted.

“Based on his angry staring match with his pancakes”, Crato nodded up to the teachers’ table, “you definitely did upset him.”

Yeah. Slughorn seemed displeased by life in general. There were rings under his eyes – evidence of a lack of sleep. It had taken him until sunrise to finally get all Slytherins back into bed. There had been a lot of crying, and snot, and whining.
It had reminded Severus of the tedious night when Sirius Black had attacked the Gryffindor dorm and the students were told to sleep in the Great Hall. There had been more talking and nervous breakdowns than actual rest. Humans usually didn’t respond well to being told that ‘everything was fine’.

“Did you leave Avilius as a human sacrifice behind to soothe the ruffled feathers of your dorm mates? He usually sticks to your side like glue.”

“He’s angry with me, too.”
Actually, lots of people were angry with him at the moment. Huh. Well. Everybody needed to be good at something.

“Anything serious?” Crato’s voice turned quiet. He grabbed an apple, cut it into slices, and started to slowly chew on his fruit.

“Nothing I can’t handle on my own.”

“Yeah. But are you sure it’s something that you need to handle on your own?”

Severus blinked. “What do you mean?”

Crato held out an apple slice which Severus took more confused than actually hungry.

“Just saying. It’s still some time before the first Quidditch match, and the first Hogsmeade weekend is in two weeks. Until then, my social calendar’s pretty empty. So… in case you need a wingman. To translate your botched apologies that probably sound more like death threats. The ones you owe your girlfriend, or your buddy, or…. everybody.”

“Shouldn’t you be studying for NEWTs or something?”

“Or something.” Crato gifted him a crooked smile before finishing the last apple slice on his plate. “Just for your information, Avilius is sitting with the Gryffindor girls today who are all staring at us every couple of seconds. And Avilius looks like he’s up to something.” Severus followed the nod towards the Gryffindor table, where, to his absolute bafflement, Avery sat in between Lily and Mary and opposite of James bloody Potter of all people. Incredulously, Severus stared at that weird scene.
They were chatting.
“What is he doing?” Severus’ voice betrayed how aghast he felt.
Never in a million years had he seen a Gryffindor and a Slytherin share a table. Well, in the library and in class, maybe. Not in the Great Hall. There was a reason those tables were at opposite ends. There needed to be space to prevent bloodshed.

“Yeah.” Crato patted him on the shoulder. “You inspired some inter-house relations, alright.”

“You blew my cover. That’s my secret goal in life. To unite people through their shared hatred of me.”

“And you’re more successful than You-Know-Who at bringing the houses together. That’s talent.”

“What does that comparison make you?” Severus raised an eyebrow. “My loyal death eater?”

A couple of the Hufflepuffs around them turned towards them with startled eyes. They probably had only caught the end of their conversation.

“Oh, please,” Crato rolled his eyes. “I am too good for grunt work. At least let me be your right-hand man or something.”

Severus hummed, taking out a piece of parchment that he had prepared in advance. It was as good a moment as any. “Well, prove yourself useful, then. Study those.”

Crato narrowed his eyes, obviously not too confident in Severus’ ideas. He couldn’t understand the boy’s reluctance. Severus’ plans always turned out great. Maybe not in the way they were intended to, but it was hardly his fault that the rest of humanity did not behave in a sensible way. “Homework? Before the first period?” Crato sighed, taking the slip of parchment and reading the listed spells.

“A patronus? Isn’t that against dementors?”

“So?”

“Aren’t we…. “ Crato stopped to look for suitable words, “like going for a bit of a more snake-y thing?”

“A patronus can be used to communicate over distances. It’ll be useful. One way or another.”

“Because one day, I may have to break you out of Azkaban?” Crato joked weakly, reading through the list Severus had provided. “These are so random, Snape. Did you throw a dice or something?”

“Just study them.”

“That’s nine, no, ten spells. I’ll need a whole year just to master those.”

“A year? No.” Severus put his elbows on the breakfast table and his head on top of his hands. “I am sure you’re cleverer than that.”

Crato didn’t seem impressed by his manipulation attempt. He pocketed the list, still shaking his head and mumbling quietly to himself as he went off for his first class of the day. “Your handwriting sucks, it sucks so much. Locator spell, patronus, fiendfyre, summoning charm, why birds, why summon birds, that’s a joke charm! And a conjunctivitis curse and summoning a blindfold, really? I do understand the disillusionment charm. That’s at least great when you sneak out to go to a party, but how is it useful to summon birds? I am not a magician in a Muggle show. Incarcerous? I am no Auror. And why do you think me so much of an idiot that I need to still learn Lumos and Nox in seventh-year? Nox with exclamation marks. Really? And why do you always make me go to the library? You should be in Ravenclaw. People don’t like going to the library unless they’re insane. It would be good manners to show me the spells instead of making me do all the leg-work. Ridiculous, really.”

“No, that one we won’t need. No boggart coming our way. Focus on the others.”

Severus took Crato’s reaction – a flipped finger – with a smirk.

Then, he let his gaze stray back to the Gryffindor table. Potter, of all people, was still in deep conversation with Avery and Lily. It was Mary who seemed more subdued. She was also the one to notice his stare. Hastily, he averted his eyes, lest he gave the impression of plotting something via legilimency.
Weirdly enough, it had seemed as if Avery was leading the heated debate at the Gryffindor table.

***

Detention was probably the most interesting thing he did all week, because it brought him close to a cauldron. Did he miss working with potions? Not that much, really. It had been simpler times, though, when all he had to worry about was replenishing the infirmary’s stocks.
Slughorn was busy brewing when he entered the office. There were two cauldrons, both at about the same stage. A back-up. It was a technique you would only use with potions you expected to mess up. There was a trade-off, after all. It took concentration away from the individual brew but allowed you to make one mistake.

“Mr Snape! Grab some more lacewings, quick!”

Slughorn was furiously stirring his potions, sweat running off his pudgy face. There were overturned bottles on the table next to him, and chopped ingredients in small dishes.
The preparation work seemed fine enough. It was the pace of the brewing that Slughorn seemed to struggle with.

With a puffing noise, the smoke over the right potion turned a familiar pale blue.

Severus didn’t bother closing the door, rushing off towards Slughorn’s personal ingredients stores on the picture-frame-covered wall behind his desk. The man didn’t do much brewing outside the lab, so there weren’t many bottles to go through.

“Hurry!”

The potion Slughorn was stirring with his weaker left hand began to thicken and sizzle as the movements weren’t enough to keep the fluid in permanent motion.

Severus knew from experience what was happening. The molted tin was settling.

Instead of pulling each bottle out, reading the label, and then putting the bottle back onto the shelf, Severus now just threw the wrong ones aside, some shattering, some just rolling around.

Slughorn was right. Additional lacewings would help bind the potion together and keep the tin from settling at the bottom of the cauldron.

Once he read “lace”, he dashed off, dropping all of the bottle’s contents in Slughorn’s potion. Instantly, the big bubbles on the surface retreated, the stirring rod now moving much more fluidly in its circles.
Slughorn sighed in relief, and a couple of minutes later, the smoke also turned a pale blue.

“Goodness, me. That would have been a terrible waste of expensive ingredients.”

His potions teacher was drenched in sweat and his eyes were red from the metallic fumes.

“Let me.”
Severus grabbed one of the stirring rods, taking over the salvaged potion. Without breaking the rhythm, he continued working on it.

Slughorn used the opportunity to take his stirring rod with both hands to support his shaking fingers.

“Took longer than the recipe implied,” the man said quietly. “I didn’t expect to still be brewing. You’re supposed to write lines, not have fun.”

Severus shrugged it off, focused on getting the Wolfsbane to the next stage. “You really shouldn’t be brewing if your body can’t take the stress anymore.”

“Still as out-spoken as last year.” Slughorn’s voice turned colder. “I rather think it is not your place to talk this disrespectfully to me.”

After three more minutes, Slughorn said: “You need to reduce –“ but Severus had already reached for the flame.

“Slowly, it must–“

“Simmer down. Yes.”
Severus reduced the fire, shortly followed by Slughorn who had stirred too slowly and whose potion needed a couple more turns than Severus’ due to this.

Then, Severus grabbed the remaining ingredient, the freshly-shed blood of a mooncalf. Offering inner peace and tranquility during a full moon.
Scamander would be horrified.
Severus let the drops fall into his potion, mixing it in without over-stirring now that the lacewings had managed to stabilize the tin in tiny crystals within the potion.

“How did you know?”

Severus looked up, right into Slughorn’s exhausted face. The man was blotchy, his cheeks red, and his receding hairline oily from the tiring brewing.

“It’s a metal base, so turning the heat down too quickly would –“

“Not that.” Slughorn brushed his explanation of Potions 101 aside. “That it needed five drops of blood. How did you know?”

Severus’ eyes widened. Oh. “It … felt right.”

Slughorn looked at him suspiciously, then also grabbed the mooncalf blood to get his potion to the next resting stage.

Once both cauldrons were simmering, Slughorn let himself fall into his armchair and put his feet up, rubbing his legs while groaning. His right knee jerked slightly, betraying how unfit he was to actually stand for such a long time.

Severus couldn’t avert his eyes.

Slughorn had always been a smarmy potioneer. Someone who took a lot of pride in the work he did. And it had been exceptionally good work, this much he had to begrudgingly admit.

It weirded Severus out to see him so … weak. Attributing laziness to the man was one thing. But accepting that Slughorn maybe just couldn’t anymore…

Teachers had to always stay the same. Be without errors, without good and bad days. Teachers just… were.

Slughorn’s decline made Severus' stomach do a flip backwards, and he didn’t like the feeling. Didn’t like not understanding why he felt this way. He didn’t even like the man. Never had.
The man had left him a hazard of a laboratory with unsorted and expired ingredients. Hadn’t trained him. Had just left.

“I’ll do the clean-up,” he blurted out.

He ignored Slughorn’s reminder that he was supposed to write lines. Instead, he collected the dishes and put them in the adjacent bathroom. There, he cleaned them by hand, going through the motions while burying said feeling behind his occlumency walls.

Slughorn was still lazing about in his armchair when Severus returned to wipe off the desk. Then, he dropped onto his knees and got out his wand. Some of the lacewings had fallen next to the cauldron, and there was also some potion splashes on the floor.
Wordlessly, he vanished the mess.

Suddenly, his wand flew out of his fingers.
Slughorn had summoned it with a flick of his own wand, now twirling it between his fingers.

“Cleaning up potion residue is dangerous,” Severus defended his use of magic during detention. “You can’t seriously expect me to do that by hand!”

“That’s not your wand.”
Slughorn gave it one more twirl before handing it back to Severus.
“Yours was Acacia. Well-suited for subtle magic like potions work.” More quietly, he admitted: “Unlike my own.”

Severus pocketed the wand. “Mine got a bit … burned… over the summer.”

“In Muggle Coke…field?”

No, in Little Hangleton when I set a village ablaze.
Severus refrained from commenting.

“Your mother’s, then?”

Severus’ heart thumbed in his chest. Protectively, he let his hand rest on the pocket that now housed the wand again. Eileen Snape had never made a secret out of knowing Slughorn, neither had Slughorn made a secret out of having taught Severus’ mother. There had been neither warm nor cold feelings. Just like he himself, his mother seemed to have passed through the halls of Hogwarts without leaving a mark on the people around her.
“So what?”

Slughorn seemed reluctant, but offered anyway: “If you wish to visit Ollivander’s during the next Hogsmeade weekend, it can be arranged. And money can be lent.”

The mental image of going shopping with Slughorn was enough to let Severus balk at the idea. And owing that man anything? No. Severus preferred to earn his things rather than rely on others.
Besides. Slughorn hadn’t offered him a finger the first time around. Maybe. Just maybe … if he had had somebody offer him a foot into this world … a job …. He wouldn’t have turned towards the Dark Lord.
There just hadn’t been many people employing half-bloods during the war. Nobody wanted to make a target out of themselves.
And those that did, those that rallied with Dumbledore and had compassion with the Muggleborns…. They hardly would have employed a Slytherin. A potential spy.
Always between the sides. Just half of everything. Not enough to belong to either side.

“I don’t want your charity.”

“I see.” Slughorn’s mouth turned downwards. He wasn’t used to being rejected when he deigned to offer students help. “It is time for your lines, now, Mr Snape.”

***

It was nearly midnight when Slughorn finally let Severus escape detention. His hand was actually hurting from the line he had to write over and over again.
I must consider the consequences of my actions for other people around me.
Whatever.

The only person Severus encountered was a tiny Ravenclaw prefect who sent him straight to bed but became flustered when he asked her what would happen if he didn’t comply.
“You’ll lose points!”
“What gives you the idea that I even remotely care whether Slytherin wins the house cup or not?”

Okay, crushing that prefect’s spirit had felt a bit good. Especially since Slughorn had been sure to put him down with each comment. It had been barely noticeable, but every half hour or so, the man would look up from his grading and say something that sounded passive-aggressive in Severus’ ears. Like A shame you didn’t qualify for NEWT classes. It would have been much more useful to have you brew potions in detention or It is the way we act towards people that defines what they make of us. You get what you sow.

In the dungeons, nobody was loitering around. The torches lit up in front of him, as the castle detected his movements, extinguishing the light behind him once he passed a section of the corridor. With each woosh, his own shadow danced across the brick walls while he was making his way back to the Slytherin dorm.

Then, a second shadow joined his. Severus kept his eyes on the brick wall to his left. Between the torches being lit and being extinguished, there was always a blink of complete darkness.

The second shadow slithered behind him, scales quietly scraping over the floor. With the next blink, the snake’s head rose, turning upwards like a cobra in attack position. Its tail flicked into the air as it used the thumping-down movement to catapult itself forward.

Blink.

The shadow behind him contorted until it was a half-human torso on top of a slithering mass.

Severus didn’t change his stride, despite his heart beating fast enough to betray his anxiety to the snake. In her sight, his body shape must be lighting up like fireworks – as blood was rushing through his body, his pulse spiking.

Blink.
A second set of steps walked behind him.

“Nox,” he cast without drawing his wand. “Muffliato.”

The torches that had been lighting up his way, instantly dipped the corridor into complete darkness. There was no window, no gap under a set of doors that emitted traces of light.

“You have news for me?”
He was getting better at communicating with Nagini. At not letting her push him around. That didn’t change that he felt like throwing up.
Fake it until you make it.

“Chamber entrance. In the bathroom.”

A nervous tingle crossed Severus’ body. “Which bathroom?”

“With dead girl.”

Nagini drew closer to him but this time, she didn’t initiate touch. He could hear her steps, hear her laboured, too-slow breathing. It didn’t sound right. As if she expected to still need less breaths than a human would.

“Moaning Myrtle, of course,” he muttered. “She died near the entrance. An accident, then? Or did he intend to take her into the chamber like Ginny Weasley but she fought and he had to kill her then and there?”

“When will we go down into the chamber?” Nagini seemed to have found her voice again, and she sounded …. oddly keen. Right. Because once her deal with Severus was over, she was free to do …. whatever she wanted to accomplish by coming to Hogwarts. “I smelled a fresh shed. She’s still there. The Basilisk’s there.”

“I am not ready yet.” Severus rubbed his neck. “It’s Hogsmeade weekend in two weeks. Many students will be out of the castle then. That date should be fine but we might have to–”

“Someone is there.”
Nagini’s steps passed him, rushing towards the end of the corridor.

“Lumos!”
Severus’ wand burst into white light, rooting Nagini to her spot as her eyes did not deal well with the brightness.

There was nothing to be seen. No movement.

“Revelio!”
The blue wave of magic swished down the corridor, hitting the walls, the warrior statues, the torches. Nothing hindered its way to the end of the corridor.

“What did you see?” he asked Nagini, wand in hand and facing the nothingness in front of them.

The Asian woman shielded her face with her hand. “Breathing. A third heart-beat.”

Her hand grabbed the biceps of his wand arm, slowly directing it to the right of where he was pointing.

It was an empty space between two armours at the end of the corridor, shorty before the turn to the Slytherin dorm.

Severus closed his eyes for a second, then he found the resolve to face what was about to come. It finally made sense.
Everything made sense.

“Accio Potter’s cloak!”

The silvery garment flew towards him, revealing Avery who looked at him with big startled eyes, his hands occupied with that thrice-damned map that showed people’s locations.

Severus grabbed the cloak of invisibility out of the air. The cloth felt watery, as if it was in-between the state of existence and nothingness.

Avery’s fingers went to his pocket, but before the boy could do anything, Severus slashed his own wand forward: “Expelliarmus!”

The spell was strong enough to knock Avery off his feet, so that he fell against the dungeon wall. His wand landed somewhere behind Severus in the dark parts of the corridor.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

He advanced on Avery, hopefully in the most menacing way possible. The boy deserved to be frightened into leaving him alone!

“I said! What! Do you think! You’re doing?”

He grabbed Avery’s uniform collar and pulled the boy upwards who just stared at him wide-eyed.

“Tongue in a twist because you were caught?” he taunted.

“I can’t hear you,” Avery suddenly blurted. “Your lips are moving, but it’s just a buzzing sound!”

Severus let go of the boy’s collar. Damn. “Finite Incantatem.” Then, he pushed Avery against the dungeon wall by putting his wand under the boy’s chin. “Didn’t I fucking tell you not to spy on me?”

Avery’s eyes were watery, and he was a trembling mess worse than Neville Longbottom had ever been in his classes. “Who’s she?”

Severus followed the boy’s gaze to Nagini.

The woman stood lost in the middle of the corridor. Her black dress was a bit torn and it seemed damp, as if it had been dragged through some sewers. Her hair, too, was unkempt, and her eyes were uneven. One was yellow, one was a sad brown. Both were reddened. Nagini seemed tired. As if she was dragging her body through something it could no longer take.

Suddenly, his wand was knocked out of his hand. As it clattered over the floor, Avery pushed Severus away from himself, and dashed around the corner.

“Fuck!”

Severus dived after his wand, still the only light source since he had magically extinguished the torches. It had rolled towards Nagini and came to a halt between her feet.
Almost kindly, the woman picked it up, holding it out to Severus.
Both exchanged a grim look as the wand returned to its owner.

Avery’s steps had stopped echoing once he had successfully fled the scene.

“The problem with Hogwarts,” Nagini said, for once a wry humour in her voice, “is that there are too many people living in it. Makes me want to rectify that.”

Severus grimaced. “We need to stop meeting like this.”

“Two weeks, then this is over.” Nagini’s uneven eyes turned to the ceiling as if they followed her hidden thoughts. “Then everything is over.”

Uhuh.

There it was. He had been waiting for her to go off the rails. By now, Severus was an expert at predicting her mood shifts.
Was this how Scamander and Hagrid felt about their beasts? It was so easy to believe himself capable of handling her. Because he apparently knew how she would behave.
He mustn’t let his guard down. He mustn’t.
This was dangerous.
She was a monster.
And monsters needed to be slain.
Every Muggle child knew this.

Severus grabbed his wand more tightly. Nagini and he were so close that the light turned their faces into ghost-like appearances in the middle of the black corridor. “Two weeks,” he repeated in assent. “Then the Basilisk either leaves the castle by free will or it dies.”

When you talk Snape, he heard Mary’s voice echo in his head, you lie.

Nagini’s eyes rested on his. They were spooky, the way they were differently-coloured and differently-shaped. “He feared you, you know.”

“I have just magically beaten his ass. Of course, he is afraid of me.”

“Something about you is not real,” she whispered. “You lost your temper, but then you didn’t. Something about you is fake. So fake.”

“I don’t care for –“

“You turned the lights off wandlessly. Yet you didn’t attack him now when he was running away. Instead, you went for your wand. You even stopped me from advancing against him when you used that light spell to blind me oh so accidentally. You feared what I could do to that person more than you feared me.”

Severus made a couple of steps around Nagini, half-circling her. The yellow-slit eye and the human one, the brown one, the one that seemed so melancholic, so lonely, both followed his every movement. “Wandless magic is imprecise. I could have hurt him.”

“Yes. I figured that this was your reason.” Nagini’s fingers reached out towards his wand, softly trailing over the chipped wood. “For what it’s worth, I think it was the right decision. I would have regretted hurting him.”

“I don’t need your approval.” The hairs on Severus’ arm stood tall, as her words got his hackles up.

“No. No, you don’t need anyone.” Nagini smiled coldly. “Right?”

Then, she broke the spell her ugly eyes had put on Severus, as her body contorted without warning, reducing her back into the monster he knew her to be.

Two yellow slits held his gaze for a couple of seconds, then she slithered away.

***

***

Despite its feather-like touch, Potter’s cloak felt like lead in his hands. There was a discussion to be had with some Gryffindors come morning.
Severus really didn’t need them meddling in his affairs.

In their dorm, Avery’s bed remained empty.

Chapter Text

Severus sat on the floor next to the portrait of the Fat Lady, pensively staring at the other side of the corridor wall. The invisibility cloak barely managed to cover his legs that he had stretched out to get at least some comfort.

Avery had seemingly vanished overnight.

Severus had always been exceptionally gifted at finding wayward students who were out of bed after curfew – by now, he knew all hiding spots inside the castle. Or at least, he had taken pride in the assumption. Avery, though, had eluded him. Empty bed, empty broom cupboards, empty everything.

Thrice-damned marauder’s map.

The boy was avoiding him and he had the perfect tool to outsmart Severus.

Slowly but surely, the sun rose on Hogwarts. Greyish light began to fall through the window opposite the portrait of the fat lady, signalling that the night gave way to Saturday.
Severus had sat in front of Gryffindor Tower for several hours now, with nothing but his thoughts and memories to occupy his never-resting mind. Despite the aching tiredness in his bones and the itching in his eye sockets from pulling an unplanned all-nighter, he felt that his mind was clearer than it had been for a while.

He needed to get out of the spotlight.
Breaking things off with Mary and reducing his classes should have allowed him to fade back into the shadows, not draw attention on him. Slughorn, Avery, the disastrous loss of house points … Severus was getting sloppy. Was becoming too arrogant.
That needed to stop.
He had to get back into the driver’s seat before all dominoes in front of him came crashing down.

Avery was a loose end that needed to be taken care of.
An Obliviate would do the job.
If only he could find the boy.

There was a soft chirp from the windowsill as the phoenix, who was perpetually spying on him these days, took out its beak from its wings. Once it had noticed that Severus was literally going to do nothing in the corridor, it had curled itself up in plain sight to get some rest.

“Awake, again?” he asked quietly. The bird looked straight at him as though he weren’t wearing an invisibility cloak. “You snore.”

Another chirp, then the phoenix began to groom itself in its mourning routine. Its head bobbed up and down while the beak flattened any ruffled feathers.

“You do realize that it would be the intelligent thing to just fly into the sunset and be done with all of this human crap?” That got the bird to stop in its movements. “Your owner’s dead. Has been for ages. He won’t know or care whether you serve Nagini out of some misplaced loyalty or not.”

Those black pupils kept eye contact. For once, Severus wanted to know what was going on in that feathery brain.

“He must have been something,” he admitted, closing his tired eyes. “For you and Nagini to still be stuck on the guy. Credence, right?”

The phoenix gave a drawn-out wail that reminded Severus of a crying infant. A second wail. And a third.
It was the sort of sound that was genetically engineered to tuck at your heartstrings, to permeate your body to the very last molecule, to make you care.

With a sigh, Severus reached for the phoenix with his open palm, the invisibility cloak slipping off his arm, as he invited the bird to draw closer.
Slowly, the phoenix hopped down, but it refused to perch on a stranger’s arm. It didn’t allow itself to form another connection to a human being, its heart already filled with another. Instead, it nuzzled its head against Severus’ hand as if to seek comfort in the touch.
Severus stroked over the bird’s cheek. His fingers caught a tear.
Spilled for someone beyond healing.
What a waste.

Severus understood the bird, though.
Sometimes, he also wanted to cry.

Suddenly, the portrait of the fat lady swung open, and the phoenix swished its tail feather upwards, hitting Severus in the face, before taking off through the open window.

Hidden underneath the invisibility cloak, Severus rubbed his smarting cheek as two Gryffindor boys passed him. They were talking about some famous Quidditch player.
He really despised beasts in all shapes and sizes.

***

Over the course of the morning, almost all Gryffindors known to him had passed him by, some in deep thoughts, some in heated debates about unimportant teenager stuff, some snogging like Frank Longbottom and his girlfriend Alice. The younger students were more exuberant, often running down the hallway, with two or three almost crashing into him.

It had been weird to be talked about while he was present.
Lily and Mary had had a somewhat strained conversation, what, with Lily demanding Mary to finally talk about what happened between the two of them, and to let Sev explain his side.
Funny. Severus had received exactly the same speech. So it wasn’t just his own refusal to kiss and make up that infuriated Lily.
Mary had looked exhausted and a bit annoyed, but other than that, she seemed fine.
That had reminded Severus to keep a close eye on Mulciber before there would be more dead cats littering the halls of Hogwarts.
He missed talking to her. Mary was the only person in Hogwarts who he could talk to without having to actively consider which lies he had told before and how to mince his words.
Even Crato thought he was just an adventurous and slightly unhinged guy who wanted to kill a Basilisk for fun.
Well, Mary didn’t know about the Basilisk, but that was mostly because he hadn’t had the time to let her in on the details. And he really didn’t want to drag her into fighting another Horcrux, especially one that would require brute magical force to bring it down.

He remembered her brown eyes turning olive as he had cast Avada Kedavra on the black cat in her lap. Remembered her thoughts, the revulsion that dripped off her like rain off an umbrella during that fateful meeting in the courtyard.
He’s just a monster like the other Slytherins

Severus didn’t want her to look at him like that again.
He didn’t want her to be there.
Mary wouldn’t approve. Not of killing Nagini as soon as she had fulfilled her purpose.

***

Potter’s group left the dorm around 10 am, having slept in to further test Severus’ patience. By then, the Slytherin had started walking up and down the seventh floor to combat the cramp in his legs.

“I thought I hated it before when you were mooning over Evans,” Black joked, stroking vainly through his hair full of gel. “You’re worse now that you’re together.”

“Hey, I am the only one doing any mooning!” Lupin smiled weakly at his own joke, as he stumbled into the corridor. His foot had caught on the frame of the hidden entrance.
Right. The full moon was coming up.
The hairs on Severus’ arms instinctively rose.

“Oh, shut it!” James laughed, playing with a golden snitch in his hands. “You’re just jealous.”

“Please. I am taking McKinnon to Hogsmeade,” Black bragged. “Going by the glacial speed you and Evans are taking, I’ll be seeing more action this month than you will.”

“You have a date again? But I thought we were going to Honeydukes together!”

“Oh, Pete. Don’t you get it? You’re going to have a lovely date with Remus. You’re welcome.”

The two boys spluttered, with Pettigrew going on a rant about not being gay.

Severus had listened to enough of this claptrap. He pressed his wand against Potter’s back, sure to keep himself covered with the invisibility cloak.

The black-haired teenager tensed and stopped mid-step.

“Did you forget something upstairs?” Black turned around with a frown, looking at his best friend who remained rooted to a random spot in the corridor.

Severus got as close to Potter’s ear as possible, enjoying the power thrill that being invisible gave him. “Get rid of them,” he whispered.

Potter’s jaw hardened and his eyes narrowed as he searched the empty space next to his ear. “Go without me,” he told his friends without any inflection in his voice.

“You alright?”
Lupin made two steps towards Potter.

“I said I need a couple more minutes. Go!” Potter nervously waved them away, then gave a fake chuckle. “And don’t eat all the pancakes.”

The three boys eyed him with suspicion to different degrees, going from Pettigrew who seemed neutral to Black who had to be dragged away by Lupin’s hand on his uniform sleeve. He wouldn’t stop looking over his shoulder towards Potter until they disappeared down some moving stairs.

Severus tipped his wand to Potter’s back two times, once to get the boy’s attention, then slightly to the left to lead him towards an empty broom cupboard.

“Seriously?” Potter, who had followed his commands so far, found his voice again. “I am not getting in there with you. That’s cramped for one person. I don’t need you in my personal space like that, Snape.”

Severus gave the boy a push, which earned him a painful shove as Potter guessed where he was.

“Get in if you want your cloak back,” Severus threatened.

Potter narrowed his eyes even more, but then complied.

The cupboard truly was more …. challenged in space … than Severus had remembered. He actually had to put one shoe on Potter’s left foot and another on the rim of a cleaning bucket, otherwise the door would not have closed behind him. The only light in the cupboard came from the slits around the door frame.
Instantly, Potter grabbed his wand arm, now certain where he had to be, and tore the invisibility cloak from his head.

Severus instinctively flinched from the contact, garnering a sneer.

“Not so courageous when you have to face me, are you, Sniv?”

The grip on his wand arm was strong enough to bruise.

“I am looking for Avery,” he blurted out.

“And why should I know where your Death Eater friend is?”

“Because you lent him your cloak and the map!” Severus spat out. “You seem to be best pals these days.”

Potter’s gaze hardened. “I don’t consort with Death Eaters like you two.”

“Neither he nor I am marked,” Severus replied angrily. “You just would like us to be because it would be easier to justify your atrocious behaviour towards us.”

“Well, you’re going to be one sooner or later! So what does it matter if you’re one now or not?” Potter’s grip on his wand arm tightened. “I always told Lily she’s naïve for trusting you. She’s just too nice! I at least get why you can fool her, what, with you being childhood friends. But I don’t get that thing with Avery. Sure, he played a victim over the holidays, but Lily should know better! Instead, she now even trusts that snivelling friend of yours and his weird ass story about you acting all suspicious and him wanting to make sure you’re not going to get yourself into trouble. And ‘lo and behold, my cloak’s with you and Avery didn’t return the map as he had promised. I knew I shouldn’t have given my stuff to the son of a Death Eater, but Lily was insistent!”

“He got Lily involved, too?” Severus groaned. Avery really knew how to cause him grief.

“’Course he did. Came to her for help, and she came to me because she had the brilliant idea that my stuff could be useful to keep track of you. What’s up with your friends borrowing my stuff anyway? First Macdonald, now Avery…”

Potter’s rant gave Severus a pause. “Wait, Mary borrowed your cloak?”

“To avoid you!” Potter cried. “Because you were such a nasty boyfriend, and she didn’t want to run into you or your Slytherin friends. Especially Mulciber! The way he talked to her in Transfigurations yesterday –. Anyways, how did you get my cloak? I didn’t want Avery to have it, but you? I certainly wanted you to have it even less. You’re going to pay for the cleaning bill to get your grease out of it.”

Mary had borrowed the cloak? So she was keeping track of Dumbledore, then.
“Avery’s gone into hiding after I caught him spying on me,” he explained without giving anything crucial away. “I can’t find him anywhere. Your map’s pretty effective.”

Potter narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “Why does he feel the need to hide from you? Aren’t you in cahoots?”

“Do you really care?” Severus challenged. “Or do you want your map and cloak back?”

Potter seemed torn, weighing his feelings as his head went from left to right. “What do you want from me, then? It’s not like I know your mate’s favourite hiding places.”

“I want to know more about the map. He’s using it to hide from me – are there any weaknesses? Can it spot people under the invisibility cloak, for example, or are they hidden from sight? Can it be traced?”

“Maybe. Probably. I don’t know.” Potter shrugged. “It’s paper that has been experimentally altered into a map. The charm works, but I can’t really say why or how. And we never had any need to trace the map, so, yeah.”

“How does it react to the cloak, then? You must at least know this much.”

“It sees underneath all magical deceptions known to me and Sirius,” Potter admitted. “We tested that.”

“Quite gleefully, I presume,” Severus muttered. “Is there a place that comes to your mind that the map would point you to? If you had to hide?”

“There are some hidden passages. For example, there’s one leading into Honeydukes behind the statue of –“

“I know that one.”

“You do?”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Please don’t point out the one behind the mirror on the fourth floor next. I checked the other three plus the Shrieking Shack as well. He’s not there.”

A mixture of annoyance and discomfort flickered over Potter’s face. “How do you know about the secret passages? Did you follow us again?”

“Call it a trade secret,” Severus drawled. Years of wrangling the Weasley twins, and later Harry bloody Potter had revealed one passage after another. Following Sirius Black’s upsetting break-in and the Dark Lord’s return, Dumbledore and the staff had cracked down on ways into the castle.
Not that it had kept Draco from pursuing his quest to smuggle Death Eaters inside. The Vanishing Cabinet sure had been a nasty surprise.

“The Room of Hidden Things, then,” Potter spat. “Or did you think of that one, too?”

“The Room of –“ Severus stopped mid-sentence. Pensively, he picked at his bottom lip with his finger nail. “Yes. Avery would have wanted a place to hide. Of course!”

Then, he turned his gaze on Potter again, who looked as if he had bitten into a lemon. “Return the cloak to Mary,” Severus commanded, finally freeing his wand arm from Potter’s grip. “In exchange, you will get your map back, once I have no more need for it. I am not a thief, after all.”

With that, he pushed open the cupboard door and exited the broom cupboard.

“Hey!” Potter cried, which turned some Gryffindor heads as the corridor wasn’t as empty as it had been previously. “I am not your lackey!”

Severus looked back over his shoulder, taking in Potter in all of his glory.
He wasn’t a man yet, what, with his boyish-round jaw and lack of facial hair. On the other hand, his shoulders were already broad enough to support his resilient stance. This was the man that would not move when coming face to face with the Dark Lord. For all of his faults, and of those there were many, Severus could respect him.
Which didn’t mean that he despised Potter any less.
Respect and like didn’t have to align.

“No, you are not.” Severus put his wand into his trouser pocket deliberately slowly. “But what you are is a meddling, immature child. Final warning, Potter. Stay out of my business, and I’ll stay out of yours. So. Let me fix what you’ve broken. I’ll get your precious map back. Until then – you do as I say.”

Stalking down the corridor on the seventh floor, he ignored the upset shouting behind his back.

***

Of course, Avery would have stumbled across the Room of Hidden Things.

Severus hurried down the corridor, pushing past some Gryffindor kids playing exploding snap on the floor and gossiping about the teachers. Next to him, a bushy-haired girl began to shriek as a group of ghosts broke through the walls, only to leave through the opposite side. Definitely a first-year if something like this still shook her to the core. Severus side-stepped her and her two friends, who began to comfort her.

It made sense.
The boy had been running from him, and the seventh floor which housed the mystery room also led to Gryffindor Tower, the place where Lily resided. Avery didn’t have a lot of allies left, what, with having severed his ties to Slytherin in his spontaneous betrayal over the summer holidays. He wouldn’t have sought out Crato either, who was firmly in Severus’ corner, no doubt about that.
That left him with Mary and Lily. Lily, who apparently had grown somewhat close to him over the summer despite her initial distrust.

On his way to Gryffindor Tower, the Room of Hidden Things would have opened up. Because if there ever was a thought on Avery’s idiotic brain, then in that moment after his stand-off with Severus and Nagini, he would have thought I need a place to hide.
Especially when he noticed that Severus was searching for him all over Hogwarts. His ever-moving, ever-closing in dot on the map must have frightened the boy nearly to death. Avery would have gone a couple of steps forward, then backwards, uncertain whether to seek out Lily, uncertain where to hide from Severus.
Then, the door would have appeared right next to him like a miracle sent by the founders themselves.

Hiding in an unknown room, a room not even on that blasted map… yes. Avery was in there, Severus had no doubts.

Finally, he arrived at the tapestry that depicted how Barnabas the Barmy taught trolls how to dance.

Two Ravenclaws actually stood in the corridor, apparently trading chocolate frog cards, of all things.

Nagini was right. There were far too many people in Hogwarts.

“Leave,” Severus commanded, merely raising an eyebrow at the third-years.

“We’re allowed to be here!”
The feisty boy clenched his hands and puffed himself up. The two girls he was with merely huddled behind his back.

“Unless you want me to hex your cards blank,” that drew a collective gasp of the children, “you better find somewhere else to hang out.”

The boy opened his mouth for a comeback, but the girls dragged him away. “Let’s just go,” the blonde said. “It’s not worth it.”

Severus scanned the corridor, taking in the curious phoenix that suddenly appeared outside the window. It pecked once against the glass, but gave up when Severus ignored it.

I need a place to hide something.
Severus walked up and down, focussing on the blank wall opposite the tapestry.

Would Avery know that the game was up?
He could imagine the boy on the other side, clenching the map between his hands, praying for Severus to pass his hiding spot.

As he turned for another round, the bricks in the wall shifted, forming a door. There was another peck on the window, but Severus just tipped his head in a mocking salute towards the phoenix before entered the Room of Hidden Things.

***

Severus had never personally been in the room, had only heard of it by account of others. Umbridge had been gloating for nigh on a month about her discovery of Potter’s mischief, and then there had been Dumbledore’s portrait who had coordinated with the owner of the Hog's Head to hide students in there during Severus’ horrific year as headmaster.

There was a lot more dust than he had expected since so many people seemed to accidentally trample through that room throughout the decades.

The room had high ceilings. The narrow passages resembled valleys between rubbish mountains. It reminded him of Borgin and Burkes; the aisles were full of knickknack that seemed too innocuous not to hold deadly traps.

Slowly, he closed the door behind him, felt the magic brimming as the door once more disappeared into thin air on the other side.

The lighting was dim, no windows could be spotted anywhere. Right in front of him, there was a harp of all things, silently begging to be played.

Severus didn’t shout Avery’s name. Instead, he studied the ground, looked for places where the dust layer had been upset recently.

Slowly, he followed the trail of footsteps that seemed hurried, sometimes overlapping as the person had turned and twisted as if to look for a hiding space underneath the discarded school tables and stacked chairs. There were lots of vitrines as well. Some held porcelain, others glass vials with potion residue or silvery tableware.
Then, there were reptile tanks, maybe, or cages for other creatures that once had been kept by professors long ago. Over his head, a replica of the solar system and its planets moved in circles.

Something about the place gave Severus the creeps. It didn’t feel dark per sé, but it was as if… there was the potential for it. Hidden away.

He moved through the aisle, taking great caution to quieten his footsteps.

An bird cage in an open wardrobe to his left. There was a skeleton of … something … in it.
Severus let his fingers trail over the cage. The metal flaked off, brittle from decades, if not a hundred years of existence.
Well, maybe he should have taken the phoenix with him. And chucked the thing right in here for all eternity.

Next to the cage, something glittered on the bottom of the wardrobe. Curiously, Severus turned his attention from the ghost-like footprints on the floor to the object. Unlike everything else around him, it sparkled as if it held value.
Severus crouched down, pressing the door of the wardrobe open wide. He had no intention of touching the thing, but a look wouldn’t hurt, right?

It was a diadem made of silver, the sort of thing a princess would wear on her head. A blue gem rested in its middle, with pale-blue jewels adorning the sides. There was some kind of bird emblem and a gravure. The only thing he could decipher from his perspective without turning the thing was wit beyond.

Carefully, he retreated, but he couldn’t take his eyes off the jewellery. It felt… dark.

Then, something flashed before his eyes. He shook his head. Another flash as if the lights in the room were flickering.

Leave.

Alarmed, Severus stumbled back, as a foreign memory hit him.

A bulky man in medieval garments driving a knife through a woman’s chest. Blood gushing from the wound, dripping off her white gown that reminded him of a wedding dress. Surrounded by a vibrant, dark-green forest. The diadem clattering as it fell into mud, then a splatter of blood hitting the blue gem in the middle as the weapon was withdrawn from the lady. A maniac grin on the man’s face, his eyes bulging from adrenaline as the woman gasped for air like a fish. Her brown hair pooled around her body, some strands coloured red by her own blood.

In the matter of another blink, he found himself back staring straight at the diadem. Its blue jem was like an eyeball.

Leave.

“I will! Don’t worry, I will!”
His voice wavered, but Severus was sure to keep his eyes on the piece of jewellery in the wardrobe.
Possessed by a poltergeist?
It felt even darker but just as sentient.
Almost like that thing in Hangleton but… no attack followed.
A cursed object, nonetheless.
“I am not here for you!”

With baited breath, he waited for an answer, but his distance alone seemed to have appeased that …. thing.

Suddenly, there was a creaking noise from the end of the aisle.
Severus turned around, searching the direction of the noise for any movement, for any signs that something had changed.

He threw a nervous glance towards the wardrobe with the birdcage and the evidence of a murder that someone had hidden in the room.
And here he had thought the worst thing to be hidden away would be desecrated school books and empty bottles of alcohol left by students after an illicit party.

Whatever curse rested on that diadem, it wasn’t the attacking sort. Unless one provoked it, he suspected.

“I know you’re here,” he said, walking down the aisle of discarded belongings. The footprints in the dust ended in front of a table. There were lots of old textbooks on it, and its grey tablecloth reached to the floor. “Come out. We need to talk.”

Nothing.

Severus sighed, crouching down so that he had both knees on the ground.
“You know me, Ave. If I wanted to hurt you, I wouldn’t be talking right now. I’d be casting.”

He reached for the table cloth, pulling it downwards hard enough to have books rain on him.

Avery crouched under the table, his wand in both hands, its tip directed at Severus. His eyes were as wide as they would get.

For a minute, none of them spoke a word.

The tip was trembling, and Severus could see spell names rush through Avery’s mind.

“I need to obliviate you,” Severus said calmly. “It won’t hurt, and everything will be okay afterwards.”

Avery’s head shook alongside his wand. For once, there were no tears in his eyes. There was some redness, though. He probably had no fluids left to give after a night of blatant fear.

“Ave, come on. You’re at fault. You shouldn’t be snooping after me.”

Avery gripped his wand harder. “Who is Nagini?”

Severus blinked. He had expected whining, and crying, and general Avery-ness. “Where did you hear that name?”

“I saw it. On the map! Who is she?”

“…A friend.”

“You brought her into the castle,” Avery accused him. “Somehow. What are you doing, bringing people into Hogwarts?”

“What do you think I am doing?”

Avery bit his lip. “Are you working for You-Know-Who?”

You-Know-Who.
Not the Dark lord. Not our lord.

“What makes you think that?” He collected his emotions to appear as neutral and unmoved by the turn of events as possible. “Don’t be ridiculous. She and I just have a thing. I wanted to meet my new girl–“

“You asked me for her name before! At Mr and Mrs Evans’ home. You asked me about her when you quizzed me on what I know about You-Know-Who!”

Oh god. He had, hadn’t he? When he had assumed that Nagini was already the Dark Lord’s pet snake.

Severus blanched, drawing a blank as how he was going to explain that one away.

“I thought you strong!” Avery suddenly cried out, waving his wand around like an idiot. The only thing that kept Severus from disarming him was the fact that the boy couldn’t do any wordless magic. As soon as a single syllable left that mouth, he would be faster. “I thought you strong! In Knockturn, you said… you said his ideology was madness! How could you betray your own words like that? Is it… is it because everyone hates us? You said… you said –. You stopped caring what the other Slytherins say at the end of last year, why NOW?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake! I am not with them!”

“Don’t deny it, I am not stupid! You are working with that woman. And you left Mary because she’s a halfblood and not good enough for you anymore! You even hang out with that Hufflepuff pureblood!”

“What in the world gave you the idea that Crato would support the Dark Lord’s beliefs?” Severus couldn’t stop himself from chuckling. “Ben’s a bloody Muggle, Ave. Did you think he’s hanging out with Ben to be cunning?”

Avery reddened all over. “I don’t know! I don’t know the guy, and I don’t know you, apparently, either!”

Severus took in the ridiculous scene, took in how ridiculous it was to be kneeling on the floor in the Room of Hidden Things, with Avery crouching underneath a table.

“Ave,” he said quietly to get the boy’s to concentrate on the words rather than on his own chaotic emotions. “I don’t deny bringing her into the castle, but she’s not a follower. And neither am I some sort of secret spy for the dark side. How would that even work? My dad’s a Muggle and my best friend is Muggleborn.”

For a second, the boy’s eyes shifted down as if in shame.
Avery really left Severus too many openings. He would be horrendous as a companion in a fight.

“What was your grand plan, anyway?” Severus sighed. “Did you want to catch me in the act tonight, and then drag Nagini and me to Dumbledore after you expertly disarmed us?”

“Don’t make fun of me!” Avery breathed heavily. “Just don’t!”

Severus finally gave in to his smarting knees, switching into a proper seating position. He ignored the shaking wand in front of his nose.

“I didn’t want to fight you,” Avery suddenly whispered. Then, his wand became steadier. It was still far from a duel-worthy stance, and Severus felt quite proud of himself for not laughing in the boy’s face for thinking himself threatening, but Avery seemed more resolved than he had ever been. “I still don’t want to. But if I have to fight you… I will.”

Avery inhaled, then exhaled. “If it’s the others that are putting pressure on you… we can talk to Dumbledore. He’s annoying and, urgh, but… he protected me. So he can protect you, too. We can fix your mistake, Severus. But I won’t let you hurt yourself. If you work with the other Slytherins, then…” Avery took another laboured breath. “Then we’re not friends.”

The words echoed in Severus’ head, as Avery threw them back into his face.
That had been what he had savagely spat at the boy when convincing him to report the attack on Diagon Alley to the Aurors.
If this is who you want to be, then we’re done. I don’t suffer cowards.

Severus couldn’t keep himself from chuckling, from putting his head against the table leg as his body bent over in laughter.

Pity in Scamander’s eyes. You fear the Basilisk and what it could do. It’s probably the same with humans. You tend to see the worst version of them, right?”

Scamander had been right.
Like an arrogant toerag, Severus hadn’t acknowledged Avery at all, who had put his trust in him. Who had changed in front of his eyes, had opened his heart and mind to Muggle culture, even. Severus had pushed him around, and put him down with words, with actions over and over again.
Because he had underestimated the boy. Had thought Avery beneath himself.
The joke was on Severus.
Avery had come the closest of all people to unearth his secrets. To foil his plans.

“Stop laughing!” Avery demanded, his voice coloured in squeaky shame.

“You don’t understand,” Severus said between chuckles, closing his tired eyes. It had been a long day. A long month, and even a long year. “I am doing anything but laughing at you.”

Nagini’s eyes rested on his. They were spooky, the way they were differently-coloured and differently-shaped. “He feared you, you know.”

How had Dumbledore put it in the end-of-year speech all those years ago? The one he had given while stealing the house cup from Slytherin by awarding Harry bloody Potter and his friends points for endangering themselves on their quest to find the philosopher’s stone. It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends.

Avery hadn’t gotten house points for betraying his father and the Dark Lord. He had gotten ridicule.
Even Severus had put Avery down again and again in revenge for things the boy would do in the future.
For tattling on Severus. For getting him crucioed by the Dark Lord.

“You manipulated me!” Avery cried out, throwing the soggy rug into Severus’ face in the Evans kitchen. “You fucking manipulated me into going to the Aurors!”
“Don’t you realise,” Avery sniffed, hiding his eyes from Severus behind those sleeves. “Don’t you realise that I am nothing without my dad?”

“It wasn’t a nightmare! Why won’t anybody believe me!” Avery pushed Slughorn’s comforting hand away. Then he turned to Severus. “You must have seen it, too! You were awake! You looked at it! I saw it! It was there!”
Avery’s dark eyes bore into his, pleading, demanding, full with panic.
“Oh, shut it, you idiot!” Mulciber gruffed, throwing his pillow at the other boy. “When in your entire life did you ever understand something right? Get it into your thick head that you woke up and were confused.”

A disliked, untalented boy.
Bullied by his own house.
Fallen from grace for a moment of courage.

Avery, who, despite having gained nothing and lost everything when doing the right thing, had stood up once again against a friend to prevent a wrong.
Avery who confronted him in the dead of night and all alone.
Untalented, clumsy Avery who never had a chance against Severus in a duel.

“You’ve done great, Ave,” Severus praised, finally reining in the desperate chuckles that had escaped his lungs. “Since you made that choice. You’ve done so well because you gave people a chance. The Evans family, and me, in the first place, I guess.”

“I don’t under–“

“You even overcame your pride to ask Lily for help. To work together with those blasted Gryffindors. And as a result, you put more puzzle pieces together than anybody else. Your conclusion is off, but that’s because I lied to you. Well, to everyone.” Severus stretched out his hand, taking Avery’s wand out of the boy’s hand. There was no resistance as those friendless, abandoned eyes greedily took in his admission, his honesty. “I’ve been hunting down information on the Dark Lord. Mary and I, well, we found out he did some magic. He made himself immortal. Remember the book I asked you for?”

Avery nodded.

“It tipped me off what the Dark Lord had done. He made horcruxes. They are… containers. Of some sort. And when he dies, he can come back.”

“So he cannot be killed before those containers are gone?” Avery asked. “I don’t understand. What has that do to with –“

“Mary and I already took care of one horcrux. There’s another one, though, right here in Hogwarts. It’s a Basilisk, the monster that the Dark Lord once unleashed to kill a girl in the 1940s. The monster in the Chamber of Secrets.”

Avery blinked helplessly as the information crushed down on his shoulders like a relentless waterfall.

“Nagini is special. She is cursed, and this curse lets her transform into a snake. When I confronted you about her, I thought she was a follower. Turns out, she isn’t, but she might become one. I don’t trust her, Ave, and you shouldn’t either. But she can speak to snakes. I need her to ask the Basilisk a question.”

“But why talk to it at all?” Avery shook his head. “Why not kill it? Or tell Dumbledore to kill it? That’s better! Let’s just tell Dumble–“

“Because that Basilisk may know about other Horcruxes. Talking to it before killing it is ... immensely valuable. That’s why I smuggled Nagini into Hogwarts. Not because I am with the Dark Lord.”

“Valuable?” Avery repeated. “Everything about this story sounds mental! I mean... a Basilisk? You are lying to me, aren’t you? You think I am gullible and –“

“I don’t. Look at me.”

Severus grabbed Avery’s jaw, staring straight into those frightened brown irises. So unlike Mary’s. Mary had always looked at him with courage, like a true Gryffindor. Never fear. Avery, though … he didn’t trust Severus not to hurt him. Not anymore.

Well, too bad. Because Severus had decided to trust him.
To trust in the boy’s courage to stand up to him should the need arise.
Because every monster needed a slayer.
If Nagini needed one… then so did he.

As soon as their eyes connected, Severus drew the boy in, splintering his own shields, letting Avery see himself from Severus’ eyes. Let him feel what Severus felt when looking at Avery.

After a split second that amounted to an eternity in mind years, Severus blinked, breaking the connection. Gently, he let go of Avery’s jaw.

“I trust you,” he said and meant it. “And the first thing I need you to do is find Nagini on Potter’s map. Keep track of her. If she moves anywhere close to Dumbledore, you tell Mary. She will know what to do.”

“Okay?” Avery furrowed his brows. “What was that? I just saw myself from your perspective and –“

“Legilimency. You should look it up in the library.”

“You mean like reading?” Avery grimaced. “Just tell me!”

The thought of Crato and Avery forming a study group to do the homework that Severus was handing out to them was rather amusing. “You do realise how much trust I am putting in you?” Severus stressed. “This is a promise, Ave. I won’t let you fall into the Dark lord’s hands. Otherwise, I would be quite screwed, too.”

“Like mutual destruction?” Avery finally began crawling out from under the table and got back onto his feet. “Is that why that Hufflepuff and Mary let themselves get dragged into this mess? Because you exchanged blackmail material?”

“Oh, no.” Severus smirked as he let himself be pulled up by Avery. “They’re not Slytherins like us. They’re in for the adventure.”

”Gryffindors are really stupid,” Avery commented. “Hufflepuffs, too, I guess.” Then, Avery seemed to have a moment of enlightenment. “Does that mean you and Mary haven’t broken up? Since you want me to report to her.”

“We are –“

“Because I think I should probably report to her right about now?”

Severus, who had been on his way towards the exit, turned around once again. Avery had taken out the map and was looking at it quite intensely.

Like a robot, Severus moved towards Avery, grabbed one corner of the map and pulled it towards him.

Nagini’s dot was in the Headmaster’s office.

“Where’s Dumbledore?” Severus’ eyes flew over the parchment, scanned it feverishly.

“That is bad, right?” Avery asked. “Should I still go tell Mary or –“

“Let me concentrate. Please!”

Severus found the dot that was accompanied by the name tag Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore.
Dungeons. Slughorn’s office. That was good.
Or so he thought.

Dumbledore’s dot began moving upstairs.

Chapter Text

Severus crashed into student after student, as he ran down the hallways of Hogwarts without a care for his smarting ribs and torso.
Tunnel vision.
He could see their mouths moving angrily, but he just pushed forward through the crowd. Doors and colourful paintings flew past him in a blur on his way to the Headmaster’s office.

“Slow down! Please! I can’t get…. enough air…” he heard Avery huff from behind.

Severus’ lungs were burning, too, as his long legs carried him forward in the greatest hurry imaginable.

It seemed Nagini and he were destined to fight to the death, no matter when their paths would cross in the stream of time. They both were simply too rooted in opposing sides of the war to meet as anything but mortal enemies.
Like two sides of the same coin who were always facing away from each other.

Mid-run, Severus grabbed his wand from his jeans pocket, pushing his stormy thoughts to the back of his mind. He needed to focus. To let his heart be filled with hope, with warmth.

Playing at the river in Spinner’s End. Lily’s joyful giggling, their hands splashing through the factory foam that perpetually covered the water surface.

There was merely a shadowy tingle in his fingertips as the memory could not override his anxiety.

Without even uttering a syllable, Severus knew that this time, the memory would prove insufficient.

His grip on the wand tightened, as he took the next set of stairs in seven jumps.

“Mr Snape! Mr Avery! No running in the school corridors!”
He ignored Minerva whom he had almost run over on the stairs.

“Sorry, professor! Sorry, sorry! Severus! Wait! Please!”

Severus grabbed the bust that sat on top of the stairs’ landing, using it to twist himself to the right to cut the corner as closely as possible.

“Young man!”, a ghost protested as Severus merely jumped through him, ignoring the cold shiver travelling down his spine.

Playing with Lily was a good memory, definitely, but it was no longer that beacon of light it once had been when all that his mind had known was darkness.
Whilst the memory of those childhood days, of friendship and being untainted by what was to come, had once given him motivation, determination to continue, it now seemed so insignificant.
So random a thought.
So far away.

He needed a more recent memory.

Bird-watching in the woods. Squabbling about whether the curious little thing on the tree branch above them was a robin or a female sparrow. Mary’s broad smile as she put down those ridiculous binoculars they had bought in Great Hangleton.
Trust.

Betting where that mousy first-year would be put as Minerva placed the Sorting Hat on the boy’s head. The cloth swallowed the kid to its nose. Crato’s snickering in his ear as Severus groaned in disappointment, the kid scuttling towards the Slytherin table.
Companionship.

Lily and him at the dining table in the Evans home, sipping tea from their cups. Making plans to meet in ten years time.
Faith in the future.

All of this felt so much more real now than those childhood memories that he had let drag him down for decades like stones on one’s feet that kept one from taking a needed breath of fresh air.

After the First War, he had denied himself all these emotions.
It had felt so wrong to live when so many had died.

“Expecto Patronum”, Severus cast mid-stride in a booming voice.

Silvery wisps exploded out of his wand, forming a shaky doe galloping beside him, as if for once his magic was unsure which form to take.

“What the hell is this now?”

He ignored Avery’s exclamation of surprise, firmly directing a single command to the corporal mass of magic. “Find Mary. Tell her to keep Dumbledore away from his office at all costs!”

The doe, still somewhat wobbly on the edges of its form, dashed off, for a couple of steps still running beside them, then its path took it down a set of stairs.

***

The Gargoyle corridor lay eerily empty this Saturday noon. Severus caught his breath, staring at the statue guarding the Headmaster’s office.

“Liquorice”, he tried, his words flowing into each other as he went through a selection of food items as quickly as he could. Not like he cared which one would do the trick. “Bertie Bott’s Beans. Chocolate Frog. Treacle tart. Butterbee–“

“Hog’s Head”, Avery cut in, to which the Gargoyle reared into action, winding itself inwards until it revealed the hidden staircase.

Severus turned his head to the side, raising an incredulous eyebrow, but Avery only pointed to the map in his hands as he held his knees huffing from the mad dash across school.

“It shows,” he stopped to gulp in some air, “passwords. Found out. Yesterday.”

Almost a pity he would have to return the blasted map to Potter.

“Wand out!”, he ordered with a grim face. “And stay behind me. I do the talking.”

***

Dumbledore’s office looked as if it had been hit by a bomb, with books strewn all over the floor, torn-out pages scattered about, his magical knickknacks shattered into pieces rather than on the shelves.

With the wand raised, Severus stepped inside, letting his eyes wander cautiously over the circular room. All the former headmasters’ portraits had been slashed violently, with their inhabitants gone. Some frames had been broken, with parts of chipped wood on the ground.

Avery breathed heavily into his ear.

Severus slowly crossed the room towards the abandoned headmaster’s desk, taking small steps, ready to dodge, to pounce, as his eyes looked out for the most miniscule movements.
The drawers had been ripped out, their contents – letters, ink, bird treats – dumped into a pile.

Next to the desk, the wooden perch, which usually housed a sleeping phoenix, lay deserted. There were red feathers underneath, with thick blood droplets on top. The trace of violence led to the open window, as Fawkes must have been driven away by the dark-coloured menace that sat over their heads on the chandelier. Its beak was bloody, and it was also missing some feathers, with an angry cut across its left eye.

The phoenix was staring Severus down in its eerily demonic way.

He raised his wand, anticipating an attack, but the creature merely observed his every movement.
“She’s still here,” Avery whispered, twisting the Marauder’s map between his fingers. “Her name tag’s still in the office.”

Was she rolled up somewhere, ready to strike?

“Dumbledore won’t be a fan of your redecoration,” Severus said harshly, directing his voice towards the room. “Come out, Nagini.”

The chandelier above their heads turned as the phoenix hopped from one side to the other.

Hastily, Avery put the map back into his trouser pockets, pointing his shaky wand upwards to keep the blasted bird in check to allow Severus to focus on the room again.
He circled the office, conscious of every step he took, lest some fangs buried themselves in his ankle.

“I won’t let you kill him,” he continued. “So you’ll have to face me sooner or later anyway. Come out!”

“Kill him?” Avery repeated squeakily, just as there was movement from behind Dumbledore’s desk.

A snake head rose above, climbing across the pile of broken instruments, travelling up the table leg, then curling itself up on the surface of Dumbledore’s desk. Her tongue flickered excitedly.

Then, the reptile’s form began contorting, until a human form broke out of its scales, the change reminding Severus of a re-wound video of a human being eaten by a snake.

Behind him, there was retching.

Severus kept his wand trained on Nagini, who now sat cross-legged on top of Dumbledore’s desk, her feet dangling down in mock-calmness. Both eyes remained yellow slits. For once, her face was not hidden behind a curtain of her thick, black hair. Instead, she had tied it up in a messy half-bun.

Nagini’s hands rested in her lap, cradling a stolen potion knife, turning it around indecisively.

“What makes you think,” she addressed Severus, “that a child like you could stop me?”

“Try me.” He made eye contact, approaching her until his body completely took up her view of the office entrance where Avery stood with shaking legs. “You wouldn’t be the first to regret underestimating me.”

Nagini smirked.

Severus kept her at wand-point, studying her every movement. It wouldn’t do to miss the signs of her turning into a snake again.
Getting bitten once, shame on the Dark Lord. Getting bitten twice by the same venomous snake…. shame on him.

His neck itched in that phantom way it had been doing for some days now. He didn’t dare scratch, though. Showing any weakness in front of those predatory eyes seemed unwise.

“I have been waiting for this,” Nagini said, her voice a near-hiss. “From the moment I introduced myself to you in my tent at the fair, I could smell your fear, your endless hatred. Your murderous intent. I always knew I would end up in front of your wand.”

“You still have a job to do, Nagini. Leave Dumbledore’s office. Or don’t you want to keep me from killing your snake friend?”

“Your Basilisk, yes, yes.” She rolled her eyes. “You overestimate my interest in that thing’s fate.”

Severus pressed his lips together. “Scamander would be disappointed if he heard you now. You were supposed to protect the Basilisk from my tendency to go for the kill rather than live and let live. I guess he was mistaken. You are worse than me!”

Just as that feathered menace above them cried out angrily on her behalf, Nagini’s mask of haughty indifference slipped as well. Anger streaked over her features, and her hands wrung the knife, so that it actually cut into her own thigh by accident. “Don’t talk about that man to me,” she spat, now directing the blade at him. It was her eyes, though, that put him at unease. The way those snake-like slits contracted. “What do I care about his opinion! He is a liar! A hypocrite!”

One of her hands brushed through her hair, tearing out a couple of strands.

“He said,” Severus continued, ignoring Nagini’s growing rage, “that you respected life more than anything, more than anyone in the world. So yes. You are proving him a liar. Congratulations on being an utter disappointment.”

Avery groaned loudly. "Stop antagonizing the person with the knife!"

“Respect? Life? Newt has no right to talk about those things!” An animalistic cry left her mouth, before Nagini hit her fist against the desk, the fingers clenching and unclenching around the knife rapidly, before she cradled the hand against her chest. “Not when he killed Credence on Dumbledore’s orders! He didn’t have to die! He didn’t!”

The black mass in Scamander’s magical trunk came to his mind. The sadness in the old magizoologist’s voice, the somber way he would discuss the fate of the adolescent man who wished to die before he was being eaten alive. How Scamander kept those Obscuri for decades, cared for them as reminder of who they used to be. Memories of his failure.

Severus felt sick to his stomach. “Is there a way to destroy them? Fiendfyre, maybe?”
Scamander sighed. Something swung in his voice. Disappointment?
Severus felt like he had failed a test.

“There is no cure for being eaten by an Obscuri!” Severus argued. “Would you rather have let your friend suffer? Is that the kind of love a half-monster like you can give?”

“You’re wrong!” Nagini jumped off the desk, approaching Severus just as the phoenix wailed once more.
Severus didn’t dare turn his eyes from the woman, but he could hear wings flapping, and behind his back, Avery sent two Stupor into the air, then the phoenix began circling over their heads, rearing to protect his mistress.
Nagini grabbed his collar, the knife hitting the ground as it was carelessly discarded.
Too close.
Her yellow eyes, the way her human tongue flicked against her teeth. “You’re wrong! Credence didn’t have to die! Dumbledore let him die!”

“Dumbledore isn’t God!” Severus said, grabbing Nagini’s hand which rested uncomfortably close to his neck. Her skin was smooth like porcelain. Unnaturally so, considering her age. As if it was new. Like a reptile’s skin after a shed. How much human really was in her? “Even he cannot stopper death!”

“But his friend can!”

Severus blinked as his mind came to a halt. “What?”

“His friend!” Nagini spat. “Dumbledore only had to share the alchemist’s location! Nicholas Flamel! But he didn’t! He would not save his own nephew! And now nothing’s left of Credence! And soon there will be nothing left of me! Nobody left to remember him! No matter how much I begged, how often I kneeled in front of his feet... Dumbledore wouldn’t give it to me! He just stood there silently!”

The cold truth cascaded down Severus’ back as if he had walked through a ghost.

Suddenly, Nagini snatched whatever she could get from Dumbledore’s table, and one after the other, she chucked the items into the lit fireplace. Then, she pushed the remaining things off the surface, turning towards the only personal picture in the room.
It was small, the size of a postcard, and its frame hung over the fireplace. Severus didn’t recognise the people, but it was clearly a family photo. Nagini’s fingers closed around it, crushing the glass frame, as blood dripped down her hand onto the rug, then she smashed the broken memento against the stone inside of the fireplace.

The last thing Severus saw of the picture was how the face of a small, sad-looking girl caught fire.

Nagini now took Dumbledore’s Pensieve, her blood dripping down her fingers and mixing in with the silvery swirly surface, where Severus thought to spot his own face for a second.
“Stop!” he shouted, grabbing the woman’s arms to lock her into place.

“I am going to take everything from him until he is bleeding inside! And then I am going to ask him whether he still thinks that it’s better to die than to live in some situations!”

“You’re only hurting yourself!”

Severus and Nagini fought for dominance in their interlocking grip, and as the spike of blood rang in his ears, he almost did not hear Avery’s shouting and the shrieking that suddenly filled the office.
Then, a sharp beak and talons buried themselves in his shoulder blade from behind, with Nagini biting down on his arm that lay around her throat. Severus heard his own cry of pain like an onlooker, the adrenaline too high to consciously notice the pain.

Avery’s spells flew wildly around, some even bouncing off the walls of the circular room. Finally, the bird was hit, and it had to let go of Severus.
With a thump, the Pensieve hit the floor, some shards breaking off of the stone well housing Dumbledore’s memories.

Nagini pushed him backwards, to the point that Severus’ feet hit the solid Pensieve and he crashed onto his back, wand still in hand.

“Severus, are you okay?” Avery bent down to help him, but Severus spotted Nagini going for the knife. Instinctively, he pushed the other boy to the side, who crashed into Dumbledore’s desk, and pointed his wand at the woman.

“I will kill you!” he threatened. “Leave the knife where it is!”

It was the uncertain flicker in Nagini’s eyes, so uncharacteristic a reaction, that made Severus turn around towards Avery.

The crash had pushed over Fawkes’ perch, which now was hanging into the fireplace, as the first flame travelled from the dry wood onto the rug.

“Agua–“ Avery started, but he had to stop to fend off the angry phoenix that was hacking at whatever limb it could get.

Severus, too, tried to direct his wand to the spreading fire, but Nagini sprang once again into action, now a maniac smile spreading on her face.

“That’s it!” she praised. “Dumbledore’s going to lose everything before he loses his life!”

“Credence wouldn’t have wanted that!” Severus shouted, once again trying to get enough distance between himself and the woman to cast a spell. They were heatedly wrestling on the floor. “He wouldn’t have wanted you to become a murderer!”

“You didn’t know him!”

“But I met the people he meant the world to!” Severus rolled over her, finally pinning Nagini’s bleeding hand to the ground as the mere mention of the guy’s name broke her concentration enough to turn the tables.

Scamander who kept the parasite around, visiting it daily, despite barely managing to climb that ladder in his old age.
The phoenix wailing in despair at the mere mention of its previous owner in front of Gryffindor Tower. Still bound; not yet free in mind to move on like Fawkes did after Dumbledore’s death.
Nagini who was so twisted in comparison to the person Scamander had described. To the person Scamander had known.
“The sort of person you all hold in such esteem would have wanted you to be better than this, Nagini! To face your own fate more gracefully, like he did his!”

He wondered what could have become of her if she hadn’t become fixated on that guy. On Credence. If she had lived in the present, rather than become stuck in the past.

Dumbledore’s soft voice from long ago echoed through his head, a conversation shared over tea in a different life, the end of an argument about how he treated Potter. There is nothing more beautiful than to have loved, Severus. But we must not let ourselves be caught up in despair, lest we let those ghosts that we carry in our hearts out into the world and be tormented by them.

Severus, too, had never been good at following that particular advice.
He knew the darkness that fuelled Nagini all too well. Unlike greed, her motivation to hurt others was one you could not overcome. You couldn’t pay her off like some death eaters after the war, or offer her a position in the ministry.

Severus knew from personal experience that there was only one thing that would stop her.

It was not just because of his history with Nagini that it was his responsibility, his duty, to exterminate her before she joined the dark side. Before she would kill and kill again.
So many Muggles corpses fed to her almost playfully.
Charity’s eyes, her pleading voice as the Dark Lord served her to his pet snake.
Arthur Weasley’s pale face hidden in between hospital sheets as white as the man himself. His mangled neck. Molly Weasley’s ashen face as she sat beside him, clasping his motionless hand. So many children about to become fatherless.
The paralysis spreading through Severus’ own body. His spiking pulse pushing the poison forward, the blood pooling off him, the pain as he lay on the floor of the Shrieking Shack like trash one would thoughtlessly leave behind.

It would end here before it even began.

As he towered over Nagini, who still struggled with his words on Credence, Severus pointed his wand at her chest. He could smell the fire feeding on Dumbledore’s rug next to them.

“Do it,” Nagini whispered, her face contorted, as if to threaten a transformation should he not comply. “I won’t stop. SO DO IT!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Her yellow eyes underneath him turned green as the spell erupted from his wand.

With a shriek, the phoenix barrelled its body between Nagini and the spell, spreading its wings as wide as it could. The green light hit it square in the chest. The power of its last flap catapulted its body into the flames on the rug.

There was a jet flame of gold, and blood red, and eery green erupting into the air, as the bird caught fire, then the fire on the rug instantly died down, leaving a large pile of ashes behind.

For a second, there was nothing but shocked silence.

“No!” Nagini wailed, pushing Severus off her to kneel down, completely ignoring the two wands now trained on her. Avery had slashes all over his face and arms from fighting with the phoenix, and the backside of Severus’ uniform was torn as well.

Frantically, Nagini sifted through the pile of ash, retrieving an ugly phoenix chick that squeaked in discomfort.

“No!”

She cradled the thing against her chest, tears running down her face.

“Don’t do that, you stupid, stupid thing,” the woman hiccuped, holding the chick against her heart. Her entire body shook with each sob that broke out of her.

Severus could do nothing but stare as Nagini blended them out, completely stricken by the loss of the adult bird. One of her eyes turned brown, as her shoulders trembled with each spilled tear that threatened to drown the chick in her hands.

With her attention turned away, he snuck her discarded knife into his trouser pockets. Better to be safe than sorry.

“I don’t know what happened between you and Dumbledore and Scamander 40 years ago, and frankly, I don’t care to know,” he said quietly, getting back on his feet, wand trained on her back warily. “It sounds messy, and traumatic, and as if some hard decisions had to be made. But that has nothing to do with the present.”

The woman looked towards him with her blotchy face. Even now, there was something so vulnerable about her under all of the craziness Severus had once more witnessed.

“It’s not fair!” Her voice was rough from crying. “I never had a future. Not with my blood curse. One day, I will just cease to exist. I will become this … this monster! Credence, though…. He could have had longer. The Philosopher’s Stone could have extended his life! Dumbledore murdered him through inaction! He murdered him. He murd–“

Severus grabbed her hand that was still enclosing the phoenix. “Don’t hurt it!” He forced her fingers open, taking the chick from her. “You’ve already tainted it enough with your revenge!”

Another bout of tears formed in her eyes.

The thing pecked against his fingers, but Severus refused to let it go. Scamander deserved to get it back in one piece. This last remnant of Credence, this dead guy who held all of them as captives of their memories.

“He was dying a painful and frightening death.” Severus repeated more quietly now that the fight had drained from Nagini’s broken form. “And you wanted Dumbledore to prolong his suffering by feeding him the elixir of the Philosopher’s Stone. What are their crimes, Nagini? That Scamander and Dumbledore helped Credence end his own life on his own terms? You want to punish them for this? Really?”

“They didn’t tell me,” she said, all the craziness back in her eyes. “They didn’t tell me it would be the last time! They didn’t tell me! And it didn’t have to be! If only Dumbledore had… If only… Credence would have had a life!”

“What kind of life?” Severus cut her off savagely, having had enough of this. “In pain? Sometimes it is the right choice to end it!”
Dumbledore’s charred hand.
Please, Severus.
Murderer, Potter had shouted.
Please, Severus. I beg you.

“Every second you get to live is precious! Someone like you could never understand! Someone who doesn’t know what it is like to be losing yourself from the moment you were born!”

She snatched the phoenix chick from his fingers, cradling it now in her lap and putting her chest over it as she bent down to hide her face from Severus.

“That is something my curse has taught me. That life is holy. It must not be touched by anyone.”

Severus finally understood.
Two star-crossed lovers who shared the same terrible fate of being eaten up by magic from the inside.
But Credence had left her behind.
She could not hate him, could not blame him.
So she resented the living.

“I can read your thoughts” he lied, slowly putting his fingers around her own, not pressing down, not stealing the phoenix. Instead, he cradled hers, this time refusing to let his fear of her impulsive reactions drive him away as he kneeled beside her. Her uneven eyes widened, but there was no movement to retreat her hand from his soft grip. “You understand what that means, right? You’re not a monster, Nagini. You’re still human.”

She valued life too much to end her own on her own terms.
But living scared her more than anything.
And there was nobody to share that future with her.

“I’m not, you dirty liar,” she sobbed, clutching his shirt, burying her face in it. “I can’t hold it anymore. Sometimes, I turn in my sleep. I can’t do this anymore! I want it to end! I want everything to end!”

Nagini didn’t care whether Dumbledore died or not as long as the man would cull her in the process, too.

“Let me prove that you’re human,” he demanded. With his hand, he forced her head upwards until their eyes made contact. They were reddened from crying, and there was a bruise forming on her cheek from their scuffle before. A blood smear, too.
There was apprehension in her gaze. Fear. But for the first time, something like hope as well. Hidden, yes, and frail. But it was there.
“You want everyone to hurt just as much as you do. And if your life is pointless… theirs is too.” She was becoming him. “Don’t go there. If you do … if you start devaluing other people’s lives … their ability to make their own choices like when Credence said he had suffered enough… then you will truly become a monster, and only then.”

“I don’t… I can’t!”

Severus kindly extracted himself from her grip and stood up.
“You only have this one life. This limited time… Don’t get stuck in the past, Nagini. Don’t waste the time you have left with hate.”

Her body shook with more tears, as the chick in her fingers chirped hungrily.

“I don’t care anymore,” she whispered. “and it scares me. I can feel how I am changing. It’s not just my body anymore that is overtaken by the snake.”

“You do still care,” he contradicted her with force. “You regretted attacking Avery in the corridor. You destroyed Dumbledore’s office when he was away rather than attack him directly. And you waited with this assault until tonight. Until you knew where to find the Basilisk, and until you had told me where it was. You wanted me to make sure that the students are safe from it, even if you were no longer around. That was supposed to be your last good deed, right? Because you still care even when you don't want to.”

She remained silent. Her gaze remained trained on him as if his words had put her into a trance.

“What am I thinking right now?” she finally asked. Her voice trembled. “If you can read my thoughts, you should know.”

Severus took her in. Burned her image into his mind with all of her imperfections.
Nagini who was sitting upright with torn clothes, a bruised body, her hair had come loose, and the phoenix chick was cradled lovingly in her hands. One eye brown, the other yellow. Exhaustion pooled off her. From a life of fighting what was inside her.

The answer came to him easily, really.

“I’ll stick with you until the end.”
You won’t be alone.

Severus knew what it was like to die without anyone to give you comfort.
He knew.

Slowly, he reached out down to her, and raised her up.

Chapter Text

“So… are we not going to kill her anymore?” Avery’s wand was trained on Nagini, the tip slightly trembling.

“Nobody needs to die today. Right, Nagini?”

As the woman got on her feet, she let go of Severus’ hand and began cleaning her dress from the ashes. Then, as she awkwardly stood with the phoenix chick in her hands, she opened her mouth, but before a single syllable left her lips, the gargoyle staircase behind them creaked ominously.

Severus blanched instantly, as his eyes were drawn towards the gaping office door. The stone stairs began moving, turning, carrying somebody quite unwanted upstairs.

“We really shouldn’t be here!” Avery’s voice broke mid-sentence. His eyes shifted over the office that lay in shambles before them. “I can’t be expelled! Where I should I even go!”

“Leave!” Severus pushed Nagini towards the window. “Now!”

“But –“

“I said LEAVE!”

“I can hear Dumbledore’s voice!” Avery moaned, running around like a headless chicken. “Floo powder, we need floo powder!“

Nagini pressed the wiggly phoenix chick into Severus’ hands – of course, the bloody bird took the opportunity to nip him – before her body contorted in that dehumanizing transformation, then she slithered up the shelves towards the gigantic window that had been shattered by Fawkes when he had been ousted by the other phoenix.

“Please, sir!” Mary’s shrill voice flooded the room. “You really need to come with me! You are needed on the grounds!”

“Miss Macdonald, enough al–”
Dumbledore stopped, as his steps came to a halt. A gutted sound left his mouth.

Avery, who was on his knees scraping for remnants of floo powder near the fireplace, froze. Severus hadn’t even bothered to hide.
Apparently, there were things that could render even the mightiest of headmasters speechless. Finding two Slytherin sixth-graders in his ransacked office seemed to be one of them. Dumbledore’s eyes shifted over the slashed portraits on the walls, the abandoned phoenix perch, his broken instruments, the overturned Pensieve, the burn marks on his rug.

Mary’s face, which appeared behind Dumbledore’s, blanched at the scene of destruction. Then, her eyes sought Severus’ full of apprehension. Even without Legilimency, he could read the question in them.
What the hell have you gotten us into again?

“What,” Dumbledore said with precise enunciation that hid all and every emotion, “is going on here?”

Everyone was talking over each other, as Severus and Mary quickly blurted “It was my idea!” just as Avery cried “We didn’t do it and you can’t prove it!”

“ENOUGH!”
All three of them bit their tongue.
Dumbledore took a couple of steps into his office, carefully evading a sad-looking foe glass with cracks all over. His eyes found the empty space above the fireplace which drew him in. For a second or two, he let his palm rest where the family picture should be. Then, he turned around towards the three youth in his office.
“Rest assured,” the headmaster said, his gaze wandered over them slowly before settling on Severus, “I blame each and every one of you equally.”

Avery’s face was red as a beetroot and he scrambled onto his legs. “We were looking for the Sorting Hat,” the boy lied, “to get re-sorted!”

“NO! We were not doing THAT,” Severus stated incredulously. That was a stupid lie even for his own poor standards.

“What were you doing in my office, then?”

“Sir! This is just a misunder–“

“I didn’t ask you, Miss Macdonald. Let your friend answer.”
Dumbledore’s storm-blue eyes rested on Severus.

“We were…” Severus bit his bottom lip. No. He had no excuse. Was it too late to repeat the Sorting Hat excuse? “We were…. Yes….indeed…”

“Yes?”
Casually, Dumbledore circled his desk and the chaos underneath it where the contents of his drawers lay. The man waved his wand, and books and torn pages began to fly around, settling into their positions on the high shelves.
“Cat got your tongue, Mister Snape?”
Another swish of the wand, this one more forceful, repaired the broken chair and made the destroyed instruments sort themselves into two piles, one obviously for objects beyond hope. Then Dumbledore sat down behind his desk in the middle of his ransacked office. “Come closer, Miss Macdonald. I would not want to begrudge you this spectacular sight since you admitted to being involved.”

Mary stepped inside, clearly unhappy about being dragged into this messy situation. Her eyes didn’t settle on Severus’ face again.
Together, they stood in front of Dumbledore’s desk like the three miscreants they were. Severus winced slightly as the phoenix chick in his hands pecked him again.

“I… wanted …” Severus began once again. His brain just wouldn’t offer any new words, though. “Yes…”

“I had thought better of you three,” Dumbledore interrupted his pathetic soul-searching. Apparently, the headmaster was done being lied to. “It makes sense now why you have been stalking me these past few days, Miss Macdonald. I thought you were building up courage to talk to me about something close to your heart, but alas, you had more nefarious plans. I regret saying my password as loud as I did. Kicking my good intentions like this… I am disappointed. Very disappointed, Miss Macdonald. You should know that even when you do not actively cause harm yourself, you can still become complicit.”
Mary took the reprimand like a champ, merely nodding bravely rather than protesting her innocence or lack of knowledge. Severus remained silent. It really wouldn’t help their case to clarify that Mary hadn’t told them the password. Potter would skin him if the map was taken from them.
Then, Dumbledore turned towards Avery. “Mister Avery. Still not careful who you make friends with. I thought you had learned your lesson.”
“I did,” the boy blurted out, “I did learn –“
“Evidently not.”
The boy’s face dropped in shame.
Finally, Dumbledore’s gaze settled on Severus. “Mister Snape. Your greed seems to have gotten the better of you. Did you really think me careless enough to leave anything of true value in my office?” The man twirled his wand between his fingers. The blackened ring on his hand glittered in the light of the chandelier. “It is a feat, indeed, to have caused so much destruction without gaining anything. You still have a lot to learn, Mr Snape. Subterfuge, for example. I cannot fathom how you imagined this to end in a favourable way for you.”

“… when’s detention and with whom, then?” Severus asked quietly.

Behind him, Avery groaned. “I have too much homework already!”

“Oh, no.” Dumbledore lowered his head to look at Severus from above the rim of his glasses. “No, we are not quite in the realm of detention anymore.”
Well, his Fridays were already filled with Slughorn, anyway. This spelled trouble for Mary and Avery, though. Unlike him, they probably would not rejoice about getting suspended or thrown out of Hogwarts.

“You have no solid proof that we caused this,” Severus pushed back, trying to limit the damage. “You can take points and deny us Hogsmeade visits and give us detention, but everything else needs Board approval.”

“Need I remind you that you admitted your involvement yourself?” Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “My memory of this should prove sufficient cause.”

“We were merely panicking!” Severus bluffed. “We had come to talk to you and found the office like this only seconds before you arrived. Of course, we gave a wrong confession because we wanted to lessen the punishment!”

Dumbledore gripped the edge of his desk hard enough to turn his fingers white. His voice, though, was collected. “Alright. Let’s find irrefutable evidence, then. Empty your pockets. All of you.”

Mary was the first to comply. She put some spare coins on the table, a paper slip, and then her wand followed. Avery timidly added the once-again blank Marauder’s Map and his own wand.
Dumbledore grabbed Mary’s twice-folded paper, quickly skimming the lines. Severus could make out Lily’s tidy handwriting but nothing else. “Five points from Gryffindor for passing notes during Charms,” was all the headmaster said.

“Sorry,” she mumbled with red-coloured cheeks.

“Your turn, Mr. Snape. I assume you have been reluctant to empty your pockets since that would require you to reveal to me what you’ve been hiding behind your back since I entered the office.”

If it was only that.
With a grimace, Severus sat down the phoenix chick on Dumbledore’s desk.
“It’s not yours,” he added quickly. “It was… just there.”
The headmaster’s forehead was crinkled in suspicion as he poked the little thing. Traitorous menace that it was, the phoenix chick actually rubbed its head against Dumbledore’s finger.

“You really aren’t Fawkes,” the headmaster said quietly, petting the squeaking chick, “Where did you come from, little one? Curious.”

Severus had a hunch that the bird wasn’t going to answer. He also had a strong hunch that it was neither the right time nor place to voice that comment.

Whilst continuing to pet the phoenix, Dumbledore reminded Severus: “Your pockets.”

That brought him to the main issue he had with presenting the contents of his pockets. Severus didn’t really feel like putting a wand on Dumbledore’s desk that had Avada Kedavra as its last spell. However, he did not see any way to circumvent this.
Reluctantly, he put his hands in his pockets, retrieving the wand and…
Nagini’s knife.
His heart plummeted.
Oh, yeah. He had put it there to get it out of her reach.
…Great.
With a sigh, he dumped both items next to the phoenix chick.

Dumbledore eyed the potions knife speculatively, then the destroyed portraits. “Definitive proof. Would you not agree, Mr Snape?”

Mary quietly groaned behind him.

“We need to tell him!” Avery suddenly said, sounding more panicky than before. “Professor, it really wasn’t us! There was a woman –“

“Stop lying to protect me!” Severus cut off the boy before Avery could blurt out Nagini’s name. “Everything was my idea, as you already surmised. Ave and Mary didn’t know what they were helping me with. I used them. Maybe they need to be punished for trusting me blindly, but they certainly contributed less to the state of your office than I did.”

“No!” Mary spoke up, her face pinched in frustration. “Severus wants to take the hit for us! You were right, sir, I wanted to talk to you about something, and that’s why I kept close to you and your office. I… I let my emotions get the better of me. Instead of talking to you, I gave the boys the password to do to you what the other Slytherins are doing to them! We were just really angry because … because you and all the teachers allow the other Slytherins to torment Avilius and Severus. And you aren’t doing anything about that! It was revenge. It wasn’t right but I do think detention and points and cleaning up this mess would be the correct punishment for all of us.”

“Oh, good, another excuse.”
Dumbledore snorted, despite the fact that Mary’s explanation was decent. She really was the queen of white lies. It just came too late.
“Should I leave for a bit for you three to discuss which of your myriad of statements you would like to go with?”

“Yes, please,” Avery muttered under his breath.

“If Severus and Avilius weren’t in Slytherin, you would be more understanding!” Mary claimed, leaning fully into her lie to sell it.

“The problem I have with you three isn’t the colour of your uniforms,” Dumbledore said, crossing his arms before his chest like a disappointed parent. “It is that none of you seem to be sorry. None of you have even offered an apology. Instead, you lie with every breath you take and shift the blame around!”

“Because it really wasn’t us!” Avery cried. “I am sorry your office looks like this but it wasn’t us!”

“The boy is telling the truth.”

Severus froze, closing his eyes in inner agony as Phineas Nigellus Black returned to his slashed portrait. There was a vertical cut going through the painting, right at the height where his grey beard ended and his white cravat began. As if he had been beheaded.
Phineas Black, contrary to his usual haughty attitude, seemed shaken to the point that he was fiddling with his black turban. As he twisted the cloth between his fingers, it began to slowly unravel. “Headmaster, there was a horrendous attack on us! I barely managed to escape into my portrait in Grimmauld Place! The things I have seen, headmaster! She was crazy! Utterly beyond reason! Poor Phyllis. She did not make it! The others could flee, but she was the first and did not see it coming! Oh, so disfigured!”

Dumbledore’s steps were in haste as he drew closer to the portrait of Phineas Black, slowly touching the slash. “Phineas, what are you saying?”

“I am saying there was a woman!”

Shit.

Dumbledore’s head turned around, incredulity filling his face as he zoomed in on Avery.

“I told you I wasn’t lying! I told you it wasn’t us!”

“What kind of woman?” he demanded to know.

“Black hair, Asian by the looks of it. She had a vicious phoenix with her,” Phineas answered. “Headmaster, you must find that devil and make her pay! Oh! The school has been breached! Breached, I say!“ Upset, Phineas rushed out of the frame again, leaving it empty.

Dumbledore’s gaze flickered towards the phoenix chick on the desk. His fingers that had been stroking the bird stopped mid-movement as he studied its appearance.
“You,” he whispered as the chick opened its beak and complained about the lack of food. “It’s you. But you should be with… why… why are you at Hogwarts?”

For once, Severus felt just as lost as Mary and Avery must have felt for large parts of the past weeks. “Do you know the bir–“

But Dumbledore had neither eyes nor ears for the three students in his office. Instead, he raised his wand. “Accio Floo Powder!”

As soon as he held a pinch between his fingers, Dumbledore threw it into the fireplace, turning the flames bright green. “You wait here.”

Yep. That hadn’t been a suggestion.

Then, Dumbledore spoke loudly the fireplace connection that Severus really didn’t want to hear: “Osmington, 52 Greenfern Road.”

As soon as Dumbledore stepped through the fireplace, Severus let himself stumble against the office walls. His thoughts were racing each other to the point that he felt dizzy.

“What’s going on, Severus?” Mary asked, biting her lip. “I feel like we’re really in trouble, and I’d like to know why.”

“There was a woman,” Avery repeated, apparently proud to finally know more than someone else in his life, “and we fought her, and Severus beat her, and now she’s working with us, but she wants to kill Dumbledore. Not as much as before, though.”

Mary shook her head. “What?”

“Oh, and she’s a snake.”

Mary turned towards Severus, definitely looking for him to put those words into perspective. “Is this woman… this Nagini person you warned me about?”

“Yes, that’s her!” Avery said, delighted to boast with his knowledge. “She’s really scary!”

“Why’s Severus telling you stuff, anyway? He never tells stuff. He always makes you figure out what’s on his mind based on the scraps he feeds you on the go!”

Severus hid his face behind his hands for a second and rubbed his eyes. “Could you both please shut up for a second? And I mean that in a nice, very friendly, very shut up now way.”

He couldn’t see their faces behind his hands, but he imagined Avery to be unfazed since he was used to being treated badly by Severus, and Mary would have that look of I put up with this, but only because I will pay you back later twice-fold.

Before he could work through his five minutes worth of panic and get to the conoct-a-plan-stage, the fireplace spat out two men. Oh, good. Dumbledore had brought over Scamander.

Severus wasn’t sure his Occlumency shields were holding up as he stared right into Scamander’s face. The old magizoologist had barely glanced over the chaos that was Dumbledore’s office before locking eyes with Severus. No word was spoken.
Then, the chirping phoenix chick broke the silence in the office.

Scamander limped towards it, whispering sweet nothings and coddling the vicious thing against his chest.
“You haven’t been so small in such a long time,” Scamander whispered. “And still you cling to life instead of letting him go. You poor thing. Another life cycle, then. We will manage together.” He cradled the phoenix against his chest like Nagini had done before him.

“So I was right.” Dumbledore waved them towards the other side of the office. Whatever was going on with him, it seemed to make him care less about their breaking-and-entering. “It is his phoenix. It cannot be another woman, then.” His face was grim.

Scamander seemed conflicted, his eyes slipping towards Severus before returning to his old friend. “There must be a misunderstanding. She would never do something like this. She wouldn’t attack you. Or any person, for that matter.”

Dumbledore hit the desk, his fist creating a sound that vibrated through the air; a behavior so untypical, so extremely emotional for him that it made all three students jump in shock. “Underestimating your monsters again, Newt?”

Red blotches formed on Scamander’s cheeks. “She must be here for a different reason, Albus. I am sure this is a misunderstanding.”
His eyes sought out Severus again as if to contemplate what to say next.

Please.
Severus sent out the word once, twice, a third time.
No basilisk talk.

“I have kept tabs on her, Newt. She is losing control of her body. She is not who we have known all those years ago. This,” his outstretched hand wandered around in a circle to point to the glory of his office, “has all the hallmarks of revenge, as Miss Macdonald has aptly realised before your arrival.”
Mary reddened.
Dumbledore suddenly took off the robe he was wearing, revealing a grey undershirt. Next, he rolled up his sleeves, before grabbing his wand.
“You three,” Dumbledore finally turned towards them, “will remain here. Safety in numbers, especially if you boys were witnesses.”

“What about you, sir?” Severus blurted out.

With each of Dumbledore's words, Scamander looked fainter. “Mr Scamander and I will make sure that Hogwarts remains safe for students.”

A wave of sweat ran down Severus’ back as the headmaster put his own wand to his jaw, transmitting his voice so that it permeated each and every corner of the castle, echoing through the floors and over the grounds: “All students will return to their common rooms right this second. Should any student be caught outside during the lockdown, you will find yourself dismissed from Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore turned towards Scamander, who seemed caught between staring at Severus and his old friend. “Together with the teachers, we two will search every corridor and every room and every cupboard in this castle, then lock them behind barriers. Until we find her.”

Scamander looked back towards Severus as he hurried after Dumbledore towards the gargoyle staircase. There was still doubt in those eyes. Probably regretting his own silence.

Please. Keep them from the girls’ bathroom on the second floor as long as possible. Please.

Scamander didn’t say a word as he threw the office door shut with a loud bang, leaving Severus, Mary and Avery behind.

Just like with the emptying of the pockets, it was Mary who grabbed her wand off Dumbledore’s desk first. “So,” she asked with a pale face, biting her lips, “where are we going, Severus?”

Today was a horrible day.

“What are you talking about?” Avery said upset. “Dumbledore told us to stay. After he almost expelled us, mind you. We’re staying!”

Severus grabbed both the remaining wands off Dumbledore’s desk, throwing one towards Avery, before raising his own.

“No! I want to stay!” Avery whined.

“The question is, Ave, do you want to stay behind?”

That shut the boy up.
Yeah. Severus hadn’t thought so either.
“Expecto Patronum!”
The silvery mist formed into that shaky doe again. “Crato. I am sorry but our preparation time has been cut short. Girls’ bathroom on the second floor. Now.”

Chapter Text

By the time Severus, Mary and Avery made their way down the moving stairs towards the girls’ bathroom on the second floor, Ravenclaws and Gryffindors rushed past them in a bid to get to their common rooms as fast as they could. Everywhere, people ran into each other, pushing and squeezing themselves through the masses. There were some quidditch players in uniform who held their brooms in their hands and tried to protect them from harm, others carried books from the library or their half-finished homework.

“My sandwich!” a student cried out as his lunch landed on the ground to be trampled into crumbs.

“Do you think You-Know-Who’s coming for us?” A squeaky first-year clung to her twin, both separated from each other by the colour of their uniform.
“Of course, not! It’s probably just a fire alarm or something. You know, like the ones we had in primary school!”
“I hate Hogwarts! I just want to go to a normal school with my normal friends …”

“Oi!” A prefect shouted. “Get moving, already!”

Severus grabbed Mary’s arm, who in turn held onto Avery – together, they pushed through the crowd, always keeping close to the handrailing.

“Mary?” Lily’s voice cut through the noise around them. “Where’re you going?”

Severus couldn’t spot his childhood friend among the moving bodies. “Ignore her,” he whispered harshly. “We don’t have time for this.”

Mary looked back, but she followed his steps without hesitation.

“Mary!”
Three distinct voices called out to her.
Severus spotted Potter’s face at the top of the stairs. He and Black were dressed in their Quidditch uniforms. His lips were pursed in suspicion; it was Black, though, who spat some words towards his friend and made to follow Severus, Mary and Avery. Potter suddenly grabbed his mate’s wrist and shook his head. Black began waving his hands through the air while talking, but whatever the argument, it seemed Potter was more interested in getting them to their common room than to care about Mary being dragged off by two Slytherins during lockdown.

Around the third floor, the flow of students reversed, with Hufflepuffs and Slytherins now rushing downstairs towards their respective common rooms.
“No running on the stairs!” Flitwick’s voice barely broke through the noise caused by hundreds of feet and the panicky-annoyed conversations between the teenager groups.

When they broke away from the stream of students, barely anybody paid them any attention.

***

The girls’ bathroom was a gloomy, depressing place, with hardly any sunlight entering those grimy windows. Six toilet stalls, all abandoned – some in haste after Dumbledore’s announcement, some since the past century going by the unhygienic looks. On the opposite wall, there was a wide mirror, blinded by age and barely showing their silhouettes. The silver of the frame was flaking off into the sinks underneath.
Drip, drip.
The damaged sink pipes fed the puddle on the floor tiles.
There was no sign of Moaning Myrtle who usually haunted the stall with the broken door.
Curious.

“That’s for girls! We can’t just go in there, Severus!” Avery stood frozen in the door.

It was Mary who simply pushed him into the girls’ bathroom. “I hardly think that’s what will get you expelled.”

Avery crossed his arms uncomfortably in front of his chest, making sure not to venture even one inch further.

Severus slowly circled the bathroom and took in everything he could. But he couldn’t feel it. It just seemed like any other badly-cared-for corner in this ancient decrepit castle. How could this place be of such significance? It wasn’t even in the dungeons where one would presume Salazar Slytherin to build his Chamber of Secrets.
Maybe Nagini had been mistaken. Maybe he had misunderstood her words. Nothing screamed “lair of evil” to him.
He raised his wand, but the revealing charm also didn’t unearth anything unusual. The blue wave of magic travelled across the surfaces, bounced off the toilet in Moaning Myrtle’s stall at the end of the row, then it disappeared into nothingness.

“So, Severus? What are we doing here?” Mary was losing her patience.

“We’re looking for anything magical that stands out. Something should be hidden in here.”

“The entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, right?” Crato stepped through the door and shut it close behind him. “For your information, Snape: This venue sucks, but I am okay with being called to a spontaneous foursome, as long as I get to top.”
He was wearing a Muggle hoodie and some bleached jeans, and he actually looked like he hadn’t shaved yet.

“Did you just wake up?” Severus asked incredulously.

“It’s Saturday. Of course, I just woke up.”

“It’s noon!”

“And yesterday’s house party was great. You should have been there instead of whatever you were doing that led you to this dump.” Crato yawned. “Guess, the joke’s on me, though. Because I am now here, too. And who are you, my fair lady?”

“Mary Macdonald.” They shook hands.

“ Hippocrates Smethwyck. Call me Crato. It’s less –“

“Pompous,” finished Severus with a roll of his eyes. “Yeah, we know.”

“Exactly.” Crato smirked, before taking in Avery’s and Severus’ torn uniforms from the phoenix attack. “Am I late? Don’t tell me you fought the Basilisk already?”

“Basilisk?” Mary’s eyes sought Severus instantly. "What's a Basilisk?"

“… Now that I think about it, that may have been a secret?”

“Nah, I know about that part, too,” bragged Avery. “Severus tells me stuff.”

Mary looked ready to murder the boy.

They were really testing Severus’ new-found resolve not to snap at his allies. “Are you done? Who knows how long the teachers will need to find us here. I would prefer you to help me look for the secret entrance rather than stand around and chat.”

“No, you don’t get off the hook like that! What’s a Basilisk and why are we looking for it in Slytherin’s murder chamber?” Mary asked, dead-set on not letting the topic drop.

“It’s a giant snake with a murderous gaze and it’s supposed to be extinct,” Avery replied first, fully displaying his arrogant confidence in knowledge he had gained a mere hour ago in the Room of Hidden Things. “But one’s alive. It’s one of those dark things you and Severus destroyed over the holidays.”

“The Basilisk is one of the dark things?” Crato repeated, looking towards Severus who ignored all of them. Deliberately. No, he was not doing this. “What things?”

Mary’s eyes shifted towards Severus. “You told Avery about the ring? Are you nuts? His dad is a death eater!”

“Hey! I was disowned, actually, and –”

“What. Ring?”

“It’s unfair to gang up on me three against one,” Severus protested while moving on from the floor tiles to inspect the sinks. Interesting. There was a snake carved into the silvery rim of the water tap.

“Somehow,” Crato remarked dryly, “I feel like we would still not have the upper hand even if we did team up three against one.”

“You know, Severus. It’s really unkind to ask people to risk their lives for you when you don’t tell them why,” Mary said.

That made Severus look up from the sinks; he had knelt down to inspect them up close.
Avery still stood close to the door of the bathroom, as if he was ready to bolt any minute. Crato, meanwhile, was slouching on a closed toilet lid, one foot on top of it, one on the ground. Despite his casual position, he seemed oddly anxious, his eyes flickering towards the bathroom door every couple of seconds. And Mary? She was leaning against one of the stall doors looking a bit lost.
All of them were, actually.

“Alright!” Severus exhaled. To hell with the consequences. That was something his future self would have to deal with. “You want the full story? You get the full story, but I will only tell you once. It all started thirty years ago when a pureblood descendant of Salazar Slytherin had a child with a Muggle …”
And so he gave an abridged account of Tom Riddle’s unfortunate birth, of Tom Riddle unleashing the Basilisk hidden within Hogwarts and killing Moaning Myrtle. Of Tom Riddle leaving it behind for future purposes once he graduated to become … the Dark Lord.
Severus stared into Crato’s eyes as he revealed the true nature of their enemy. The seventh-year gripped the edge of the toilet lid he sat on, but other than that, he kept up his calm appearance.
“The Dark Lord made himself immortal, and to kill him, we need to destroy his Horcruxes first. Mary and I took care of his cursed family ring during the holidays. The Basilisk may be another. And aren’t we lucky … the Basilisk is somewhere underneath our feet right this second.”
Severus had bared his soul. No more lies.
“So, could you three find it in your heart to actually help me look for the entrance after wasting a good ten minutes of our time with talking? Dumbledore’s moving in on us as we speak.”

“Of course, Dumbledore is looking for you”, Crato mumbled. “Everything that goes wrong in my life is linked to you.”

“He’s actually looking for Severus’ snake lady friend who is slithering around somewhere in the castle,” Avery corrected. The boy shook his head, slowly at first, then violently. “I said I would check the map for you, like, from the sidelines, but I am not going to fight a Basilisk! Dumbledore can do that, he’s powerful! I am not!”

“Just help me find the entrance. You won’t have to go in, don’t worry. Crato and I will.”

“And me,” Mary added.

Severus turned towards her. “No, you’ll stay up here as well.” Mary was about to talk back in anger, when Severus continued speaking: “I almost got you killed in Hangleton. I promised myself I wouldn’t risk your life again. I won’t have any underaged students die for me.”

Crato snorted, putting his head backwards until he leaned against the chipped tiles. “Oh, so that’s where I come in. Thanks, I feel the love already.”

“You told me to ask others for help rather than go at things on my own. I need you now, Crato. Will you fight a Basilisk with me?”

“I followed your ruddy Patronus knowing what you planned, didn’t I?” The other boy rose from the toilet lid, groaning all over as the tiny stall had him sit at an uncomfortable angle. “Heck, not like it matters why we kill it. Good to know, I suppose, but it was always going to be you and me, and a giant murder snake. But sure. Let’s go kill You-Know-Who’s pet Basilisk together. Hell of a date. What can go wrong?”

“Sorry to disappoint, but we won’t be alone down there.” Severus’ eyes slipped to the toilet stall at the end of row. The one with the broken door. There was but one thing that would have made Moaning Myrtle flee her favorite place. “Right, Nagini?”

Mary and Crato both shrieked, as the toilet water splashed in the air like a geyser, the green python-like snake dragging its body out the pipe system and hitting the bathroom floor tiles with a bang. As Nagini dragged herself towards the teenagers, each twist of her wet scaly body produced a squishy sound.

“Stupe–“
But Avery pushed Mary’s wand down, before she could attack Nagini, who rose her head, her human form breaking out of the animal body. Her eyes gleamed yellow, the black dress was torn from their fight before, and she focused on Severus like a predator would look at their prey.

Crato, too, had his wand directed at Nagini, and he had automatically switched into a duelling stance. He was ready to strike by magical or physical means.
“What is that?” he snarled.

“This is Nagini,” Severus declared, his palm soothingly outstretched to calm down Mary and Crato. “She’s our expert on snakes.”

***

The sink had opened on Nagini’s hissed command, revealing a black hole. Of course, the Parseltongue check explained why in thousands of years, no headmaster had managed to find Slytherin’s ruddy chamber.
Their wand lights had barely reached down a yard or two to discover a steep stone curve. Nagini had gone first, then Crato.
“Close the sink behind us in case … in case the Basilisk gets past us,” Severus said towards Mary and Avery. “If you don’t get my Patronus within an hour, you find Dumbledore and tell him everything. Understood?”
“We can’t just lock you in! If you need to run –“
“You don’t outrun a Basilisk, Mary. So … that won’t be an issue. Do it.”
Then, he jumped into the chamber’s nothingness.

***

Going down into the Chamber was a weird mixture of being on a water slide and free-falling.

“Lumos!”
Once Severus hit the rocky bottom of the cave-like construction, he imitated Crato and illuminated his wand. It smelled of sewage, and everywhere, they could hear the pitter-patter of rat feet. Nagini’s eyes followed their sounds hungrily, but she had her act together enough to remain by their side. Every couple of feet or so, there was water dripping from the ceiling, and Severus prayed that it was leakage from Hogwarts’ pipe system rather than a sign that they were underneath the Great Lake. He really could do without this cave coming down on them and having a lake worth of water dropped on him. No matter how effective Mr Allister’s swimming lessons may have been.

“How do we get out again?” Crato asked, staring up into the black hole above them. “This slide looks like it was made for a Basilisk, not tiny humans without scales.”

Severus scavenged his mind for ideas. A magically elongated rope let down by Mary and Avery. Or transfiguring the slippery stone into something that had more grip for climbing. Or … whatever. “Let’s tackle that later.”

“Where to, then?”

Something crunched underneath their shoes. Rodent bones.

“Further in. Follow the smell.”

Despite not owning a wand, Nagini strode past them to take the lead, as Severus and Crato awkwardly made their way through the graveyard of rat carcasses.

“I don’t smell anything,” Crato mumbled into Severus’ ear. “Well, nothing that gets worse, at least. It just stinks.”

Nagini did not even hesitate at the crossroads; she chose her path based on her senses – it was disconcerting to be reminded of the fact that she perceived the world differently from them.

“By the way. Dumbledore’s looking for you. He knows you destroyed his office. He … suspects you’re after him.” Severus cleared his throat. “Where will you go afterwards?”

“Home.”
Nagini was still stuck in her post-transformation blues. Her syllables slithered into each other in a way that made her sound a tad drunk.

“I’ll visit over the Christmas holidays. Maybe you can read my palm or something.”

“Something … tells me … you have a short life line.”

Severus snorted.

“The snake thing. Are you an animagus?” Crato inquired. His eyes and wand were constantly swishing around looking for movement in the dark.

“Blood curse.”

“Ah! My parents once tried to treat a guy who –” Crato stopped mid-sentence. His feet had hit a leathery-grey thing on the ground that resembled a deflated play tunnel. At least 30 feet in length. The snake shed had darkened in decomposition, but it was the first sign that their monster truly did exist.
Severus prodded the mass with his foot.

“Stop that.” Crato was pale. “Just stop.”

“That’s just old skin,” Nagini said.

“Yes. And it means that thing is bigger now. Congratulations us.” Crato turned his wand towards the rock wall, so that he didn’t have to see the shed anymore.

Nagini led them to a round metal door that had ornamental snakes all over it. To Severus, it almost looked like a safe. Instead of uttering some of those snake hisses that had opened the hidden entrance in the girls’ bathroom, her fingers traced the decorations pensively.

“Can’t you get it open?” Severus asked. “Is there a secondary trigger?”

Nagini turned around to face them, blocking the metal door. One of her eyes was still yellow. The snake had barely disappeared from her despite having changed back almost fifteen minutes ago. Over the course of the past days, Severus had seen her transformation often enough to notice it. She got worse at recalling her human form.

“I was in the pipes before you even arrived, you know? I heard you. When you talked to them in the bathroom. You need to kill the Basilisk to kill You-Who-Who. That’s what you were after from the beginning. You never considered letting the Basilisk live. And you never believed it to be an imminent danger to the other students. You lied to me. And to Newt.”

Crato visibly tensed at her cold tone. “Maybe we should fight later. Now is not really –“

“I knew you were there, Nagini.”

Her eyes, yellow and dark, bore into him. “You’re making me your accomplice in killing it.”

Crato stepped up to him, until his shoulder touched Severus’.

“Yes,” he admitted. “But I am also making you my accomplice in saving hundreds if not thousands of lives. Once the Dark Lord is dead.”

Nagini snorted. “Big plans for a whisp of a boy.” She turned back towards the round metal door. Her fingers traced the ornamental snakes again. “I wonder whether I get to see that day.” Then, she whispered in that damned snake tongue. The stone snakes on the door began moving until there was a clicking noise, and the door swung open.

***

Creepy.
That was the only description Severus’ mind came up with, as he stepped over the ledge and into the inner chamber.
The room was long but thin, with rows of serpent statues on both sides, functioning as stone pillars to hold up the high ceiling. It was eery how all of them had their mouths open as if something would spring from them any second.

“Back to back,” Crato suggested.

Severus immediately followed suit, directing his wand to the snake heads on the right side.

“Eyes closed as soon as something moves.”
He could feel Crato’s nod rather than see it.

“Is it too late to admit that I only practiced two of those spells you gave me?”

Severus grimaced. “Please tell me it was one of the useful ones.”

“Oh? You mean not the Patronus that would take me literally weeks to master instead of the one day I had?”

“Could you two stop squabbling?” Nagini seemed alert as she pressed past them, apparently uncaring of the scary snake faces. She walked through the shadows and the green light cast by magical torches of detained fiendfyre and headed towards the stone face at the end of the chamber.
Salazar Slytherin, if Severus had to guess.
The stone sculpture’s mouth was wide open, too.
Back to back, Severus and Crato followed her, ready to defend Nagini in case of any movement. There was water running down the walls; enough to confirm Severus’ theory. They were far underneath the Great Lake.

Nagini touched the lips of the stone head.

“Don’t!”

She ignored Severus warning and reached inside the black hole. Her fingers met resistance.

Severus’ and Crato’s wands swivelled around, both shouting spells at the top of their lungs:
“Bombar–“
“Ignis Ma–“

“Stop!”
Nagini’s shriek surprised them into silence.
“She’s asleep. It’s magical, I think.”

Severus could feel sweat run down his back, and Crato’s laboured breath sounded like canons in his ears.

“Let’s kill it,” Crato said, talking a small step forward, his wand hand calm but the other one was a tight fist.

“No.” Severus grabbed the boy’s sleeve. He ran his fingers through his hair. “God, don’t look at me like that. Don’t get me wrong, I really want to get rid of it, too, without having to fight it. It’s just … it might actually know more about the Horcruxes. I am so sorry but… Crato, would it be okay if I woke it up and talked to it first?”

Crato’s face told him that he thought Severus a complete nutter.

“I don’t … I don’t have any idea how to continue hunting the Horcruxes. And the Basilisk knew Tom Riddle.”

Crato shook his head. “No. Just no. Let’s behead it and go back. This is like a gift, and I am not going to bloody wake up that murder snake. It’ll probably look for a snack first after decades of beauty sleep!”

“You can go back,” Severus said. “But I need to do this.”

The seventh-year boy pressed his lips together in anger. “Why did you even ask me if you have already made up your mind anyway?”

“Because … “ Severus bit his tongue.

Crato closed his eyes and muttered something under his breath before he sighed. “Fine. Fine. If we stand on different sides of the hole, we can pincer it in case it attacks. Gouge its eyes out, first, I think. That’s why you had me learn that bird summoning spell, right? The Avis one?”

“You conjure the birds, I tell them to attack. Time-efficient casting. And meanwhile, we run like hell and try to close the door behind us,” Severus confirmed.

Crato inhaled and exhaled a couple of times as if he was combatting a panic attack. Then he nodded. “Fine. How do we wake it up?”

“Nagini, could you? And tell it to remain where it is.”
Everything down here had been unlocked by Parseltongue so far.

Her hissing sounded threatening, and suddenly, the stone face vibrated, causing Severus and Crato to jump in surprise. Dust fell from the top, as if the Chamber caved in, but then, Nagini’s hissing became more insistent.
The sound from behind the wall was more of a bark than a snake hiss. It sounded guttural, like that three-headed monstrosity before it had lunged at Severus in Potter’s first year.
Nagini replied, and then, the room returned to eery silence.

Severus noticed only now that he had stopped breathing. Light-headed, he gulped in some air.
His eyes rested on the black hole that was Slytherin’s mouth.

“She thinks I am a descendant of Slytherin. Should I correct her?” Nagini asked.

“No! No, tell her … tell her you are her new master.”

Nagini hissed some more.

“She wants to know who I am talking to.”

“Friends of … Tom Riddle.”

Nagini’s eyes locked with his as she translated.

“Are you pureblood?”

“Of course,” Severus lied.

“Does Tom want her to go up?”

“No! No going up. Ask her … if she knows about his Horcruxes.”

There was a bang as the Basilisk hit its head against the stone wall, then it quietened down.

“Of course, she knows about them. She was there when he made his first.”

“Made, yes, but how?” Severus whispered. Nagini, not realising this wasn’t meant for her, translated.

“Girl with round thing on her nose. Dead in the bathroom.”

Murder. That’s how he created them.
“How do they work?”

“She asks whether you really are Tom’s friends.”

Crato eyed him nervously.

“He was killed,” Severus blurted out. “That’s why we need to find a Horcrux. To resurrect him. That's why he couldn't tell us the details himself.”

The Basilisk thundered his body against the wall.

“How?”

“His spell was rebound by a protective charm. It hit him and … he died instead.”

For a couple of seconds, the Basilisk did not hiss.

“She talks about a diary. A diary made with the bathroom girl.”
Severus’ eyes snapped upwards, caught unguarded.

“It’s not the Basilisk itself? Are you sure you're understanding it correctly?”

Nagini and Crato both frowned as well, but the Basilisk confirmed her words.

“She says it was definitely a diary. Leather. It was a ... a welcome to school present from Dumbledore. Tom never used it until that night.”

His guardian, Severus remembered. The Dark Lord’s file had said as much. Dumbledore would have gone to the orphanage, would have told Tom Riddle what he was. Would have taken him to Diagon Alley, would have bought his wand and books with him.
And a small gift, apparently. Be it pity or empathy. It remained untouched until Riddle desecrated it with Myrtle Warren’s murder.
A rejection of the gift, of the person who knew how he had started.

“He didn’t want to kill Myrtle, did he?” Severus asked. “When he made you come out. She was just … there at the wrong time. Why choose a victim so close to where the chamber was hidden? No. That’s why he had to stop. Because it was stupidly close, people would have investigated. That’s why he had to frame Hagrid.” Severus groaned. “It was Dumbledore, right? You were supposed to kill Dumbledore to erase the knowledge of Tom Riddle’s low birth. He could lie, he could show off his Parseltongue, he could even change his name … but Dumbledore would have been a threat to his constructed identity. He simply could not erase Dumbledore’s memory. So he … decided to erase Dumbledore altogether. And he would celebrate that with turning the diary given to him by that person on the day of their meeting into a Horcrux. A bloody Muggle book, the ultimate reminder of what he was.”

Nagini hesitated, then she hissed, slowly, much more carefully in how she put Severus’ words.

He hung onto her lips, waiting for the Basilisk’s reply.

“Yes.”

“Where’s the diary?” Severus asked almost mechanically. His brain was working overtime.

“With him.”

Not helpful.

“What does the Basilisk know about the other Horcruxes. Where are they? What are they?”

“There's a ring. It's at his family home.”

“Already gone,” Severus snapped back. “Next!”

A diary. He was looking for a bloody diary. Not like there existed millions if not billions of those around the world.

“She doesn’t know of any other for sure. There should be seven. He wanted to meet the magical number.”

Seven. The number seemed gargantuan.
Ring, diary. Later on, Nagini would follow. Had Potter been a Horcrux? Dumbledore had said he had to die, but wouldn’t he have chosen the boy's death to create a Horcrux instead? He wanted the child dead, why make him into a Horcrux? No. he mustn't make the same mistake again. Severus didn't know for certain what happened after his own death. Whether Potter's death had mattered or not.

“Are there any objects that he desired? Ask her.”

“Tom wanted … something from each founder. To celebrate Hogwarts.”

No. Not Hogwarts. His magic.
Severus didn’t know how he felt about understanding the Dark Lord. Maybe he could because he was also a Halfblood. Maybe it was the darkness lurking inside of him.
But he understood.
A blank diary to show that he rejected his Muggle side.
A stolen family heirloom as a sign of victory over his Pureblood relatives who had refused to acknowledge him.
Nagini in celebration of his relation to Salazar Slytherin.
And four items, one for each founder, to celebrate the magic within him.

“Thank god, he didn’t believe in the power of the unlucky 13,” Severus muttered.

Nagini once again translated, as faithful as she had been, to the syllable.

Then, she frowned at the menacing hiss. “She says that only Mudbloods believe in God. That we’re liars. She says – run! Run!”

The Basilisk didn’t come out the stone statue’s mouth – its massive body broke through the wall.

“Avis!" "Oppugno!” Severus and Crato cried at the same time, just as dust and tiny rocks rained down on them, and the snake body lunged out. The summoned animals attacked the Basilisk, but Severus wasn’t sure how successfully since he had instinctively turned around to run towards the other end of the chamber. Crato had longer legs; he was in front of Severus and Nagini, his legs flying whilst he shot spells behind him.

Severus, too, fired off whatever came to his mind, as he could hear the Basilisk slither behind him, crashing into one of the statues on the side, before it used the wall to propel itself forward.

“Bombarda!”

Severus could hear the ceiling break. There was a rumbling like thunder, then a torrent as if they stood underneath a waterfall. The air became wet, and within two steps, they were running through an inch of water, the level constantly rising.
The Basilisk snarled, hitting another statue as it fought the chirping birds, still catching up to the three of them.

Severus could hear Nagini heaving behind him.

Crato finally reached the solid metal door, jumping through it and crash-rolling into the stone cave beyond it. He still managed to fire off a stunner, now having his eyes closed as he looked backwards. The spell flew past Severus’ ear, just as he could feel the Basilisk’s scales brush his back mid-run. He lost his balance, crashing onto the floor, barely catching his face from landing in the water that had now risen to about two inches.

“Watch out!”

As if he wasn’t actively trying not to die, thanks, Nagini.
Severus jumped to the side, closing his eyes as soon as he noticed the Basilisk’s reflection in the water drawing closer to him.

“Oppugno!” he cast again, hoping to re-direct the surviving birds at the monster, while he rolled around, guided by his ears and the chaotic water sloshing alone. Nagini was shouting warnings, Crato fired off more spells.

“Get behind the bloody door!” Severus yelled at Nagini, busy trying not to die while the Basilisk wound itself around, fighting off the bird flock, crashing into the walls and fighting the explosions sent into its face.

He tried the conjunctivitis charm and a salve of the scale-rotting curse. But really, he didn’t know where he was aiming at. Finally, he got back on his feet for a second, unlike the times that he had tried and found himself thrown backwards by the snake’s body twisting and turning wildly under the onslaught of attacks.

“Jump forward!” He followed Nagini’s orders blindly. “Down, down!”

His eyes opened by instinct.
Nagini and Crato stood on the other side of the metal door, their faces red from shouting.
Three yards.
Severus could see the Basilisk’s scales from the corner of his eyes, could see wisps of its blood and rotting flesh in the water, but he didn’t care. He jumped forward, his feet splashing through the lake water that came crashing down and filled the chamber.

Crato stretched out his hand blindly, ready to pull Severus out. He jumped, his fingers meeting Crato’s.
Then, the Basilisk caught up to him. It struck downwards from above, through the birds hacking away at its body.

It should have gotten him. Severus was sure of that.
Instead, he was catapulted inside by the power of his jump and Crato’s arm, crashing into the other boy until the cave walls stopped their movement.

Severus knew he wasn’t supposed to look, but sometimes, the body did not obey the mind.
The Basilisk’s left side was drenched in red, its eye completely hacked out of its socket, parts of its scales blasted away and decayed. It was its mouth that freed Severus from his paralysis. There was blood on its fangs.
It opened its mouth wider, ready to strike down again.

“Bombarda!”

The ceiling above the Basilisk caved in, tombing it in rock and a torrent of water. Its tail wiggled and its wailing filled the chamber, but Severus didn’t give a damn. He reached back inside, right into the cascade of lake water.

Nagini’s grip was weak as she held onto him and let herself be pulled behind the metal door that Crato threw shut behind them.

“Is she …” Crato didn’t finish.

Severus held Nagini’s head in his lap. Her eyes were wide-blown, one yellow, one dark, and her entire body was soaked. It made her dress stick to her skin.

“Where are you hurt?” he asked, pawing at her dress, as Nagini didn’t respond. She merely stared up at him in the weak light of Crato’s Lumos.
It was her left shoulder.
He tore the dress to reveal where the Basilisk’s fang had pierced her in Severus’ place.
The blood ran down her back, colouring Severus’ trousers and hands red.

“Call your bloody phoenix!” he demanded of her. “Its tears – call your phoenix!”

Nagini just stared at him. He knew the answer. Too young.

“Vulnera … vulnera sanentur!” He repeated the spell over and over, but as soon as the flesh began to knit itself together, the poison re-opened the wound. Crato fell down to his knees, closing his fingers around Severus’ wand and chanting with him, while his own wand lay on the side, offering a sliver of light.
They could hear the water behind the metal door. The ceiling, too, vibrated even in their part of the cave.

Nagini’s breathing slowed down, no matter how often they chanted the healing spell together. Then, she grabbed Severus’ other hand, staring straight up into their eyes. Past them.
“I made a mistake,” she whispered, her speech drawn out, as if she lost control over her vocal cords.

“Shut up! We can do this, so shut up!”

Severus had always believed in his spells. In his creations. Sure, he had become ashamed of Sectumsempra but this? Vulnera Sanentur had been his lifeline as a spy. It didn’t fail. It mustn’t. Not now.

Nagini’s fingers pressed down on his free hand.

“I made a mistake,” she repeated.

“We all make mistakes. Now shut up and heal!”

“When I met you in Hogsmeade, I told you … you had a nasty streak in you.”

So, what? Did his bedside manner really matter this much to her right now?

“But”, Nagini continued, her eye lids closing, her voice becoming softer like a person who fell into a dream, “I s’ppose there’s kindness in you. I just … din’t see it. ‘Cause … I had lost mine.”

“No, you fucking stay awake!” he demanded. “You stay awake!”

She didn’t.

***

Their journey back was like a twister of memories, with Severus not being able to recollect what happened first, next and last. They carried Nagini’s body back. There had been some more stones coming down, he supposed. They had both been extremely dirty. Severus had been soaked to the bone as well. There had been grime on their faces, even. And blood, he supposed.
Their hour hadn’t been up. Or maybe it had, but Mary and Avery hadn’t told Dumbledore about the Horcruxes. The headmaster had been in the bathroom, that much Severus remembered. He remembered kneeling over Nagini’s body, and Dumbledore looking down at him. He couldn’t say whether the headmaster had been there from the beginning or whether Mary got Dumbledore after they pulled Crato and him and Nagini up the stone slide.
It must have been after. The entrance to the chamber had already been closed again.
Did they use the rope idea? Severus supposed so. He couldn’t …
No. He didn’t want to remember.
It was so much easier to hold his arm over his eyes while lying on the hospital bed and to just ignore the world.

***

Of course, it was Dumbledore who found him standing next to the newly dug grave in the backyard of the Hog’s Head during the next Hogsmeade weekend.
There wasn’t a headstone yet, and it was an ugly place with more shadow than sunlight.
She had liked it piping hot. He remembered that horrible tent at the magical fair. Snakes didn’t like the cold, after all.

“It is very considerate of you to visit,” the headmaster stated, lying down a single white lily.

“She was afraid of dying alone.”

“Aren’t we all?” Dumbledore rose again. “Why are you here, Mr Snape? She did try to kill you, after all.”

The truth was on the tip of Severus’ tongue. Lying to Dumbledore in the hospital room … that had been one thing. In front of Nagini’s grave … another. But could he trust the headmaster to take him seriously? To not consider him a threat if he revealed his knowledge of Horcruxes? Of the future?
Moreover. Could he stand having Dumbledore look at him again as he had once done in a different life? When the headmaster had first realized Severus had let himself be branded like cattle?
You disgust me.
“She attacked us, yes. But I think she … she was desperate. Losing herself.”

“It was fortunate, wasn’t it?” Dumbledore’s eyes rested on his face. His voice was almost kind. If he doubted their version, he didn’t let it show. “That she bit herself in the struggle.”

Severus fought for a couple of seconds to find his voice. “I thought about it. A lot, actually. While I was in the hospital wing. And last week, too. … Maybe she realised there at the end … that she actually didn’t want anyone to get hurt. That she wanted that more than she didn’t want to die herself. And that’s why she … that's why she died for me in the last second.” Although it had been a bad trade.

Dumbledore’s eyes dropped down. “Maybe.”

A small chirp drew their attention, as Credence's phoenix, barely a youngster, sat in the tree. His beady eyes rested on them, before it spread its wings and took flight.
Moving on.

Chapter Text

The nicest thing Severus could say about Edgar Bones was that he tried. The man was sturdily built, and he had a slow, almost shy voice. Unlike the other teachers, he didn’t identify with the castle, having been home-schooled rather than being a former student himself. Edgar Bones simply did not understand the house rivalries that governed Hogwarts – having his students sit alphabetically created a whole lot of silence rather than encouraging participation.
It was just Severus’ luck to be stuck with James Potter. The only words they had exchanged in those two weeks of classes were Don’t you ever take notes, Snape? and No.
Macnair and Mulciber were lucky bastards; at least they got to stay together. Avery looked downright miserable and frightened next to Sirius Black, and Pettigrew’s stared at Severus' seat as if he was disappointed in his life to have missed out on sitting next to Potter by one letter. Lily was one of the few students who enjoyed this arrangement; she and Tarquin Goldstein, a Ravenclaw, got on like a house on fire.
Severus’ eyes found the back of Mary’s head like they did every Defence lesson. Her shoulders were tense, and she was taking notes obsessively, even when Bones wasn’t lecturing. It probably kept her busy enough to ignore that Mulciber sat only two seats away from her.

“Mr Snape.” Bones’ voice cut through the classroom. The man held his chalk like a wand into Severus’ face. “If you are done ogling Miss Macdonald, would you care to repeat my instructions?”

“Not really,” he said, cradling his head tiredly in his hands.

He could feel Potter’s hard gaze on him, just as parts of the other students began to chuckle, probably fully anticipating another loss of house points for Slytherin. And Bones did not disappoint.

***

Lunch was a sombre affair, as it had become since Nagini’s death. Mary and Lily now occasionally joined them at the Hufflepuff table, but usually, it was Crato, Ben, Avery and him.
Severus could feel the boys’ eyes on him, while he stabbed his potatoes to death instead of putting them into his mouth. Avery prattled on about how difficult classes were and the quidditch results of the league, and Crato half-heartedly got his jokes in before patting Severus on the shoulder and leaving for his afternoon classes.
He hated this. Everywhere Severus went, people were looking at him as if they expected him to snap. Especially Dumbledore.

“We need to find the next one,” he whispered, more so to himself than to Avery, but the other boy perked up, not even bothered by the fact that Severus had interrupted his epic retelling of the Bulgaria – England match that he had read about in the Daily Prophet. “We’re just wasting time. People die while we sit in class and do nothing productive.”

“But there are millions of diaries. How would we even go about finding his?”

“We don’t. We go for the Founders' relicts first. There should be far less to choose from.”

“The founders were rich. We can’t track down everything they have ever owned,” Avery mused. “For example, there’s some shoes in the Museum of Magical –“

“He wouldn’t choose any old hiking boots, Ave,” Severus interrupted, not quite managing to clear his voice of the annoyance he felt. “We’re looking for an important artefact. Either very personal or magically enhanced. We’ll have to look up the founders next.”

Avery groaned. “You mean, like, reading?”

“Don’t worry. That’s my forte. Guess I know what I will be doing while you go have fun with McGonagall now.”

The boy groaned even louder, but then he sighed. “You know, I am glad.” Avery bit his lip as if to silence himself, but as usual, his mouth was more in control of his body than his brain. “I am glad you’re back to doing stuff. Mary and Crato and Lily were worried, you know.”

“Were they?” Severus rolled his eyes. “I hadn’t noticed, what, with how often Crato invited me to that damn Slug Club party on the weekend. Or how Mary and Lily request my help with their homework when they know I can’t even be bothered to hand in my own assignments.”

The sarcasm went right over Avery’s head. “Mary thinks you blame yourself for Nagini’s death, and Lily thinks you and Mary should give it another go. She’s really insistent about that. She says you need help to forget about almost dying in that bathroom. It feels weird not to tell her what really happened.”

Severus narrowed his eyes. “Unbreakable Vow, Avery. Stick to the version we told Dumbledore.”

“I just hate lying. I hated lying to Mrs Evans, too, in my letter. She was really worried about you when she got Lily’s reply and heard about the attack on Hogwarts and how you were there when Nagini died. Did you know Petunia’s moved out? She has a job now! Mrs Evans misses us a lot because the house is really empty without us. I can’t wait for Christmas. I mean, she hasn’t invited me, and Dumbledore said he’d find a place for me to stay, but do you think the Evanses would mind if I tagged along just once more? For Christmas? I could stay at your place maybe?”

“I am sure you’re welcome to stay with them again.” There was no chance in hell Severus would invite Avery over to his house. “I never go home over Christmas, anyway.”

“But how do you get your presents, then?” Avery asked wide-eyed.

Severus ignored the question in favour of sipping his tea.

“Severus?” Avery seemed even more hesitant than before. He fidgeted with his hands, clearly looking for an appropriate way to discuss what was bothering him. “About Nagini. I … I thought about her a lot. You know.”

Should he congratulate the boy for perusing the few brain cells he possessed? Severus took another aggressive sip.

“I thought … well … do you think she had to die?”

Severus exhaled. “It happened. Call it fate or don’t. Makes no difference.”

“That’s not what I mean. I … had an idea, you know. About how we could have helped her with her snake problem. And then she died before I could ask you about it. To make sure it wasn’t a stupid idea. Since, you know, you are good at spotting weaknesses in other people’s logic. I now feel like … I shouldn’t have had that idea. Maybe that’s what killed her.”

“An idea?” Severus snorted. “Don’t worry your head about it. What she suffered from … her curse was unbreakable. Many healers have tried in the past, even Crato’s parents. They all failed.”

“But that’s just it,” Avery argued quietly. “Healers have tried. Not Muggles. Do you remember the TV show we watched at the Evanses? The one where they replaced the patient’s blood completely to heal him from the infection? I wondered … if that would have cured her. It doesn’t matter now anymore, I guess.”

Severus remained silent for a couple of seconds. He couldn’t describe the feeling in his gut; there was no word for it in the English language. You could not lose what you didn’t have. Severus knew that there were words in other languages that did not have a translation. Maybe some other culture could name this feeling. He couldn’t. Nonetheless, he experienced this loss of something that did not exist. Felt it running through his hands like water; something you could not hold onto, and the more you tried to grasp it… the less you had it. Until it was gone.

“It was incurable,” he said softly, doubt nibbling on his mind; he didn’t fully believe his own words, but damn, he hoped Avery did.

***

Getting called into Dumbledore’s office during his free afternoon hours promised another bout of problems. Despite that, Severus followed the call. It was deeply ingrained in him to do so.

“Sir.” He nodded as he entered the office. It was much cleaner than before; magic had repaired most of the damage, but the walls were still bare. The portraits had been sent to a professional in the hope that they could be restored. Then there was Fawkes; he had returned to his perch and slept soundly near the crackling fireplace. The outside temperature was cooling down, what, with it being late September up in Scotland.

Dumbledore rose from behind his desk to gesture Severus towards him. The man looked almost relaxed, but his eyes still held that glint of mistrust he had been sporting since their encounter in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic.

“Mr Snape, come in. Have a seat. There is something I wish to discuss with you.”

Severus kept his hands in his trouser pockets. “I prefer to stand.”

“And I would like you to sit down.”

Dumbledore won the staring contest. Severus threw himself onto the visitor chair.
“What am I in trouble for?” he asked after several seconds of silence.

Those blasted eyes twinkled almost amused behind those tiny glasses. “Why? Is there a list of misdeeds for me to choose from?”

Too good a mood for this to be about the incident in the bathroom. Severus didn’t let his guard down, though. Also two years too early for Dumbledore to tell him about his father’s demise.

“Mr Snape. You are an exceptionally gifted brewer, are you not?”

And that definitely smelled and sounded like a trap. “I haven’t been dealing drugs.”

“While that is good to know, it wasn’t quite what I wanted to ask you.” Dumbledore suddenly pushed an article towards him. It had been cut from a magazine, and it featured … Belby with a cauldron of Wolfsbane.

“You helped Horace brew this potion during detention, did you not? The first week of school?”

Severus slowly reached out towards the article, pulling it closer to buy himself time to think about his reaction. Where was this going? He was looking for the trap – because there always was one, as life had taught him.

“I did,” he confirmed slowly, looking up into Dumbledore’s face, his Occlumency walls securely erected.

Dumbledore nodded gravely. “You of course knew who this was for.”

“I did.”

“According to Horace, you showed incredible intuition.” Dumbledore waited for a reply but Severus refused to acknowledge this praise. He was waiting for the other shoe to drop. “Unfortunately, the potion did not work as intended. Mr Lupin was unable to control himself. You may have noticed the injuries to his face.”

“I didn’t sabotage it,” Severus said angrily. “Slughorn is ancient and slow as a snail. When I left, the potion was fine!”

“It was.” Dumbledore interlocked his fingers and put them on the table like a businessman preparing for haggling. “And Horace agrees with your analysis of why the potion failed, although he put it in kinder words. We all are victims of our failing bodies, sooner or later, and he tried his best to help Mr Lupin. He does try and I would ask you to show respect towards Horace for what he achieved when he had been in his prime rather than deride him for the results when he is now on a downward slope. As a fellow brewer, you should know better.”

“… and he shouldn’t be brewing anymore.”

Dumbledore’s eyes rested on his. “He is a good teacher. And during this war, he is a beacon of hope for many of your housemates. A counter-example to Lord Voldemort.” Severus flinched. “The next full moon is on October 8, Mr Snape. Will you attempt to brew the Wolfsbane potion for Mr Lupin in Horace’s stead?”

Severus blinked in surprise, taking in Dumbledore’s stance, his sincere voice, his words. No double-layer. “… What would I get out of this deal?”

“You do not doubt your ability to brew it successfully despite the fact that I just told you that our own potions master failed horribly. Curious.” Dumbledore leaned back against his chair, now crossing his arms before him. “Why don’t you tell me what you want, Mr Snape. We’ll work from there.”

It hit Severus like a freight train. He couldn’t keep the soft chuckle from escaping before straightening out his face. He drummed on the desk with his finger tips before rising. “You honestly don’t have anything I want, Dumbledore.” He turned around and walked towards the door, his hand on the handle but not pressing it down. “I expect your owl with the password to one of the private laboratories by dinner.”

Dumbledore’s voice was sharp as a glass shard. “And a hall pass, I presume? For your nightly excursions that seem to always lead you to the girls’ bathroom on the second floor?”

Severus turned around. “No,” he said coldly. “That won’t be necessary. I am good at not getting caught.”

He had a date with the library to look forward to.

Chapter Text

When Severus and Avery joined Crato at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast, the atmosphere in the Great Hall was tense enough you could cut through it with a butter knife. A lot of Slytherins sat hunched over their scrambled eggs, and small sobs filled the air. Some children from the other houses, too, were in tears and comforted by their peers.

“What’s going on?” Severus asked, grabbing a slice of rye bread and putting some salted butter and cress onto it. The usual murmur caused by hundreds of teenagers stuck in a room together was noticeably muted. Only rarely did some mean-spirited laughter break through the sombre mood.

Crato’s eyes flickered to Avery before he put the Daily Prophet he had been reading on his knees – almost too casually. “All future Hogsmeade weekends have been cancelled until further notice. Board decision.”
“Oh, no,” Avery moaned. “I need some more quills. Mine broke when Walden threw my bag out of the window.”

Severus locked eyes with Crato, silently kicking him against the shin until the boy handed him the newspaper underneath the table.
“Haven’t you heard of Reparo?” he interjected.

“Usually stuff gets more broken when I try using it.”

Crato sighed good-naturedly. “Hand them to me. I’ll show you how it’s done.”
Severus used the diversion to secretly scan the headline on the front page of the Daily Prophet before hastily putting it into his bag.

The moving image of Bartemius Crouch shaking the minister's hand with two dementors in the back was burnt into Severus’ mind. The sobbing from the first- and second-years at the Slytherin table seemed so much louder to his ears, now that he knew why.

There was no legilimency involved, but Severus instinctively sought out Dumbledore’s eyes up at the teachers’ table, quite sure that the man would be observing them. Gauging their reaction, probably. Severus made sure to give him nothing but a blank face.

Suddenly, a body bumped against Severus’ back, pushing his hand into the glass of pumpkin juice.
“Watch out you –“

Black’s mouth was stretched into a wide, unkind grin. “You and your friends will be next, Sniv. Just a matter of time until the ministry comes ‘round and asks every student to present their arm. You must be excited to get your first kiss.”
Then, Black left the Great Hall.

“What does he mean?” Avery asked, toast crumbs stuck to his cheek. Severus accepted the tissue Crato handed him to clean himself up. It gave him a good enough excuse to remain silent. "Why would the ministry come to Hogwarts?”

“The new law has come into force. The one where everybody with a Dark Mark is executed without a trial,” Crato explained. “They, ah, they started with a dozen people they already had in custody.”

Avery stopped chewing as his brain computed the information. “You mean they executed Purebloods? Just like that? For defending our traditions?”

“And attacking innocent people,” Severus added. “Don’t forget that.”

“But they’re going after everyone with a mark, right?” Avery bit his bottom lip. “Does that mean my dad is in danger?”

Crato froze, obviously uncomfortable with the truth. Severus, though, was a staunt believer in not beating about the bush. “I am sorry, Ave.”

The other boy seemed lost. Not sad, not apathetic. Just shell-shocked.

“They made an example of the Diagon Alley attackers,” Crato said quietly. “It’s a bit of a red tape because they were caught before the law was passed in the Wizengamot. Well, the law was sort of passed because of them, so … they talked for weeks and now they just did it. I guess they wanted to see how the public would react. That’ll probably determine whether they’re going to screen parts of our community for the mark randomly or just, you know, use this law on the Death Eaters they catch in the act.”

Avery’s shoulders were hunched similar to the majority at the Slytherin table. “So … they’re not just clearing out Azkaban, it’s about … coming after all of us.”

“That’s what’s said between the lines.” Severus let his eyes wander across the Great Hall. There were many more of their community who supported the Dark Lord’s ideas than those who would actually swing their wands on his command. Even the Death Eaters had different circles of involvement when it came to their atrocities. There were many who aided them behind the scenes. Those who supplied the Dark Lord with potions ingredients, with money, with shelter, with intel … “The ministry’s taking the radical route.”

Avery followed Severus’ gaze towards the Slytherins. A tear glistened in the corner of his eyes. “Does that mean … all of them … they will end up like my dad, won’t they? In a year or … or … “

Severus knew the feeling all too well of sitting in a room filled with ghosts. With people who were alive and yet weren’t. Soon wouldn’t be anymore. He couldn’t keep himself from looking over to the Gryffindor table. Frank Longbottom was studying his seventh-year potions book, completely unaware that he would not have need for such information once he was a permanent fixture of St. Mungo’s. Then there was Lily and Potter, both in a fierce discussion with Lupin and Pettigrew. Probably about the new law.

“I wish … “ Avery’s voice broke. “I wish we could save them.”
Severus’ eyes snapped towards the boy who was staring him down.

“Some people are beyond help.” He jumped off the bench. Severus hated this. Hated it when he couldn’t say what he was feeling. There was anger swirling in him, and resentment, and yes, guilt. He wasn’t sure whether he resented himself or Avery for daring to request he interfere with the ministry as if he was God personified, or whether he resented the ministry for denying people their right to defend themselves. What about people who regretted their choice? Those who tried to make up for it?
If it was him, his old me ... this ministry would have had him kissed for taking the Dark Mark. No matter his spying, his … everything.
But maybe that’s what people deserved. Maybe that’s what the world needed. Tougher consequences to keep people like Regulus Black from joining. Regulus Black who was honest to God sobbing into his hands at the end of the Slytherin table. And he hadn’t even lost a relative.
Maybe Severus felt guilty for thinking this pragmatic, destructive thought in the first place.
Sometimes, he hated being himself. Understanding people’s emotions had always come easy to him. Looking into himself? Not so much. Legilimency didn’t work like that.

***

Defence with Bones went as miserable as to be expected, what, with Black hissing something into Avery’s ear mid-lesson that made the boy run out of the classroom. Even Potter seemed ill at ease with his best friend’s behaviour. No words were exchanged between them.

“Oh dear,” Professor Bones muttered, definitely overwhelmed by the situation as he held the chalk in his hands and stood in front of the board rather like a helpless puppy. “Five, no, ten points from Gryffindor? And, maybe, a prefect, who … ah, yes, Mr Potter. If you could go after Mr Avery and take him to, oh, I suppose, Madame Pomfrey?”

Potter actually made to rise from his seat like a halfway responsible adult but it was Mary who jumped up first. “Sir! If I may?”

“Of course, Miss Macdonald. That would be very kind of you.”

“Oi, you should watch out, Snape.” Mulciber turned around to face Severus, whispering harshly enough to allow everyone in their vicinity to hear his words. “Seems like she’s now spreading her legs for lil’ Ave.”

Mary’s face was fire-red as she rushed outside, her bag pressed against her chest.

“Shut up you –“ Potter raised his voice, but Severus cut him off. “You really can’t wait to get kissed, can you?”
Mulciber blanched in anger and shock, just as Potter mirrored the expression. Both looked at Severus as if he had grown a second head. Okay. Stealing Black’s insult might not be the heigh of wit.

Severus grabbed Mulciber’s shoulder, burying his fingers into the boy’s flesh until the teenager yelped in pain. “Better remember this. I am not nice when people fuck with me.”

“You’re such a mudblood!” Mulciber freed himself from Severus’ grip. “Better watch your back, Snape. Lest it becomes even less pretty than it already is.”

“Ten points from Slytherin!” Professor Bones had hurried towards their bench. “For both of you!”

“Actually, professor. Mulciber started –“ Potter tried to defend him, but was cut off by Bones immediately.

“And ten points from Gryffindor! I want everyone do copy the board. Now!”

***

Slughorn’s private laboratory really became too crowded these days. With a sigh, Severus closed the door behind him, as he spotted Mary and Avery sitting on the sofa near the fireplace in a discussion about quidditch of all things. The boy seemed high-spirited, as if the topic itself had erased all thoughts of dementors and fathers from his mind.

“What’s your favourite team?” Mary asked Severus in an obvious bid to get him involved.

“Slytherin,” he promptly answered, pulling off his uniform to get more comfortable for brewing. The Wolfsbane was nearly done, and just in time. It was a pale blue, and softly simmering like it had done the past two weeks.

“You don’t even know who’s playing on our team,” Avery complained.

Severus rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, raising an eyebrow towards Mary. “Sure I do. Smith, right?”

That got him a small chuckle.

“There’s no Smith!” Avery protested enraged.

“Well, there must be. Smith’s like, one of the most common names." Avery went off on a rant, while Severus settled into a brewing routine. “Since when do you care about Quidditch, anyway?” he asked Mary.

“My dad loved quidditch.”

He looked up sharply. Right. Quidditch accident. “Sorry. Slipped my mind, I suppose.”

Severus left them to their conversation that was decidedly void of father figures, despite the fact that Avery senior had always taken his son to the big games, and Mary seemed familiar with the stadiums, too.

Once he had decanted Lupin’s seven vials for the upcoming week, Severus sat down on Slughorn’s rocking chair next to the lit fireplace and skimmed through his notes on the founders.
Hufflepuff’s most famous trinket was a cup that would always be full with whatever you poured into it. A myth because it defied the basic laws of magic. Food could not be made out of thin air. One of the five Principal Exceptions to Gamp’s Law of Elemental Transfiguration. Severus knew this by heart – that was the question McGonagall had failed him for the day of his return into his teenage body. Something that broke the boundaries of magic? That was Horcrux material based on the Dark lord’s taste. Severus had traced the Hufflepuff line until he had hit a dead end – the last heiress had been killed by a house elf of all people. The ministry had seized her assets, but Severus had a hunch that there was no point going through it anyway. He suspected that the Dark Lord held onto this object.
Then there was Slytherin. The main line had handed down a locket from father to son over generations. Based on the history books, it featured a snake, and Severus suspected it only opened if you could speak Parseltongue.
Gryffindor was obvious, what, with Dumbledore’s second-to-last order. The Potter boy needed the Sword of Gryffindor. Only Severus had no idea where the blasted thing was at this time. Sure, later it would be stored in the headmaster’s office. He couldn’t say where the sword had come from. It hadn’t felt dark when he had brought it to Potter but whatever.
Then there was Ravenclaw. His most exciting find. A diadem with the family raven carved into it. One glance at the page had told Severus that this one would be easy. Maybe the Dark Lord had considered himself clever for hiding the lost diadem in the Lost and Found Room. Severus didn’t really care one way or another. That thing was going up in flames asap.

It was shortly before dinner when Crato joined them in the room and began a game of chess with Mary while Avery quietly watched them from the sides.

“I found the next one,” Severus declared.

“Check.” Crato pushed his queen forward. “The cup?”

“This is so dangerous. I don’t want to hear all this,” Avery muttered.

“It has been eight moves. You must be cheating!” Mary sacrificed her bishop to protect the king.

“You’re just impatient.” Crato put her into check again. Severus felt somewhat ignored.

“Ravenclaw’s diadem is in the Room of Requirement.”

That got him even less of a reaction. Mary just groaned as she turned her king to the side, signalling her surrender.

“Good talk. I’ll just exterminate it myself, then.”

“Consider us informed.” Crato reset the pieces to offer Mary a chance at revenge.

Severus felt awkward as he stared at his group of … acquaintances. “Alright.”

It was Mary who rolled her eyes at him. How dare she. “Aren’t you forgetting something, Severus?”

He furrowed his brows.

“Ask us, you dunce.”

“Ask you what?”

“To help you, pretty please.” Crato stretched his arms and his back actually made a sound. Avery was decidedly looking away, but the other two stared at Severus as if they expected him to grovel.

“I don’t need –“ He caught himself near the end of the sentence. “I would appreciate it if someone could stand guard on the floor outside while I get rid of the diadem tonight.”

Crato snorted. “You really have the charms of a Hungarian Horntail. Why do I hang out with you again?”

“I have been informed it’s because you enjoy my humour.”

“That’s not exactly what I said.” Crato smirked. “It was more along the line of me enjoying it when you pretend you aren’t over your head while completely getting a situation wrong.”

“Same difference. Will you fend off McGonagall and the prefects for me, yes or no?”

“How are you going to destroy the diadem anyway?” Mary asked, again getting the opening line wrong and exposing her queen to Crato’s knight.

“Fiendfyre was efficient enough last time.”

Mary seemed exasperated. “Do you really think it’s a good idea to set Hogwarts on fire?”

“Only the diadem,” he defended his plan. “I’ll have you know I am pretty good at controlling it when I am not mentally attacked by dark magic.”

“Yes.” Mary’s voice dripped with well-meant sarcasm. “Are you sure there won’t be a repeat performance?”

“How can you control fiendfyre anyway?” Avery asked. “That’s super dark and dangerous!”

“Practice makes perfect.” Severus grabbed Lupin’s vials, as the clock announced that it was dinner time. “Just trust me.”

He totally ignored their sceptical looks.

***

Severus could hear voices down the corridor already, which was rather unusual for Poppy’s hospital wing. She kept her patients sleepy with calming draughts, and the rest was told to bugger off as soon as their bleeding had stopped or they downed a pain potion. He stopped dead in his tracks when he spotted the two Aurors guarding the door, and jumped back around the corner.

“I will not stand for this!” Poppy’s voice shrilled out of the ward. “I do not care who signed this off, you are endangering children with those monsters!”

“Now listen,” a gruff male protested in that smarmy, I-am-a-politician way. Could be minister what’s-his-name. The one who would have a torrid love affair with a half-veela mere months later. “It is hardly our fault that girl left the grounds. I assume she will be punished, right, Professor?”

“I must side with Poppy.” Dumbledore sounded calm, but Severus knew him well enough to notice the slightly stressed pacing of his syllables. “As I explained in my letter to the board, Hogwarts is not in need of stricter oversight. The castle is safer than most magical places these days. Diagon Alley included.”

“Funny, the parents don’t see it that way.” The minister of magic growled. “Your alarm last month raised some concerns about your ability to protect the students from outside influences. The identity of the attacker was never cleared up, was it?”

Dumbledore remained silent.

“If I see one of those things near the school, Minister, it is I who will complain to the board!”

“Poppy, please.” The voices became more muffled as the door to the hospital wing was closed. “… We will comply … the Forbidden Forest … not cross the boundaries … the students are mine to protect, have I made myself clear?”

Severus pressed himself against the stone wall, his heart racing. He hardly could understand their conversation anymore. Severus grasped the potion vials in his bag, straightening out his shirt before casually strolling around the corner and towards the entrance of the hospital wing.
“Wait.” The two aurors blocked him. “What do you want?”

“Potions delivery.” He held up the vials.

“Not now, you don’t.”

From inside, the minister’s voice could be heard. “With due respect, Professor, this is not a school matter. Your authority is limited by the law.”

“The law which you have broken yourself today by denying the Diagon Alley attackers their right to a trial?”

“Madame Pomfrey needs this potion,” Severus said, waving the vial. “It mustn’t fall below 40 degrees Celsius, otherwise it becomes useless.”

“Don’t we know you?” The left guard narrowed his eyes in thought. “You seem familiar.”

Inside, the minister became angry. “Get off your high horse, Dumbledore. The people wanted them to be kissed, so we sped up the procedures. Desperate times call for desperate measures.”

“And here I thought you and Barty were merely competing who can get a better head-start for the upcoming election.”

“Careful, Dumbledore. This sounds awfully like you’re accusing me of corruption.”

“I would not dare, minister.”

“Can I go in, now, please?” Severus asked.

“Oh, for –“ The guard knocked on the door, disrupting the argument indoors. Severus focused on the short view he got of the hospital wing as Poppy’s head took a peek outside.
There was a girl on the hospital bed near them, and she seemed pale enough to resemble the dead. Dumbledore and the minister stood beside her, both in a fighting stance, although no wands were drawn.
Dumbledore’s eyes instinctively zoomed in on him. Severus merely raised the vial.

“Thank you, Severus. Thank you so much.” Poppy’s hair was curling everywhere as her hand must have gone through it over and over. She snatched the vials, cradling them while looking over her shoulders unhappily. “Your help is greatly appreciated, truly. Stay safe.”
The door closed right in front of him, and the aurors were quick to usher him away.

Severus made sure to walk as slowly as possible, but the few words that reached him did not make sense at all.

***

As soon as Severus joined Crato, Avery, Lily and Mary at dinner, he lowered his voice: “Look around. Tell me which girl’s missing.”

It was a sign of how every single one of them had gotten used to his secrets that they didn’t question his demand.
“Alecto,” offered Avery promptly. “She’s been hiding in her room since she heard about … about the ministry’s actions. Her uncle … yeah. You know. And of course, the Muggleborn first-year who gets bullied all the time’s also not here.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone missing at the Gryffindor table,” Lily mused. “Well, according to James, Remus isn’t feeling too well, and that’s why the boys aren’t at dinner, but they hardly fit your criteria.”
“Alice is missing, though,” Mary pointed out. “But so’s Frank. They might be hanging out together.”
“Our seeker got hit by a bludger today,” Crato offered. “ Ravenclaw seems fine. Can’t spot any holes.”

Severus nodded slowly, then he glanced towards the teachers’ table. Dumbledore and Poppy were still absent. Curious. And Minerva seemed on edge. Unhappy, even.

“Did something happen?” Lily inquired.

“I don’t know.” Severus picked at his bottom lip, deep in thought. “Do me all a favour, though. Stay away from the boundaries of the grounds.”

Suddenly, dozens of owls entered the Great Hall, their shrieks filling the air as they sought out children amidst the crowd.

“Post at dinner?” Lily frowned. “That’s weird.”

Another flock of owls circled over their heads.

Crato was quick to jump up and crowd one of the students who received a letter, exchanging words with the boy, just as the murmuring increased and other students snatched notes out of their friends’ hands.

Severus didn’t need to know the details. Looking at Crato’s serious face told him enough.
The Dark Lord hadn’t been a fan of having his followers executed, then.

Lily’s hand sought his underneath the table, and he could feel her trembling, despite the hard look in her eyes.

“Where exactly? Show me!” Severus could hear a student demand, as the boy fought to get a look at the letter. “I need to know where!”

Severus let his gaze wander from the Slytherin table, across Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor. Today, both sides felt under threat. What an unkind day.

***

Destroying the diadem was as anticlimactic as he had supposed. Whilst Crato and Mary kept the corridor calm, he approached the bloody thing, ignoring the dark whispers by shielding his mind, and set it in fire.
Looking at the dark flames and listening to the shrieks of the magic trapped within the diadem, Severus felt empty.

There are questions you seek the answer to, the diadem had whispered. Put me on and you will have your answers. I will grant you wit beyond measure. Don’t you want to know why you’re here?

Yeah, no thanks.
This might have worked on Avery, mind you. Severus had never wished for easy answers. He’d rather work it out on his own than to trust somebody else’s word. As he held the burnt-out diadem in his hands, he stroked the eagle engraved at the front. The shape had melted in the destructive heat.
There was one difference between him and the Dark Lord, then. Severus had never sought the easy way.
What a stupid trap.

***

***

Crato and he made their way downstairs to their respective common rooms, with Mary already safely back in the Gryffindor dorm. Their steps echoed confidently over the floor.

“So two down, five to go?”

Severus hummed.

“Any plans for Halloween?”

He raised an eyebrow, which sadly Crato would not be able to see despite the nearly full moon lighting their path.
“Doing some reading on the founders to make sure I didn't miss anything. Why?”

“Slughorn’s Halloween Party. You going?”

Severus stopped in his tracks. “Are you setting me up for a hilarious joke about what a great vampire I’d be?”

That drew a chuckle. “Nah. Just … I got an invitation to spare. And I did promise I would drag you to a party before I leave Hogwarts.”

“Threaten, you mean.” Severus eyed him suspiciously. “Why me?”

“With all due respect, Snape. You’ve been spending more time thinking about dead people than talking to the living. Don’t get me wrong. I know you’ll thoroughly hate every minute of Slughorn’s party … but maybe the alcohol and the music will switch your brain off for an hour or two. Could do you some good.”

That was as stupid as kind. “I don’t drink. Ever.”

“That’s brilliant,” Crato commented. “It means I get both our allotted beers, and you can drag me back to the Hufflepuff common room before I embarrass myself too much.”

That sounded like a really bad deal to Severus. “I don’t have time for nonsense like this.”

Crato stepped up to one of the windows in the corridor and watched the dark grounds. “I feel like … in times like these, we should make room for some nonsense. Life can be cut so dreadfully short, don’t you think?”

Suddenly, Crato tensed up, pressing his face closer to the window pane.

“Something wrong?”

Crato remained hunched forward, studying the darkness intensely.

“Did you spot a wolf running around?” Severus was only half-joking.

“I thought there was something moving over the Forbidden Forest. Like a swarm of …. something.”

Severus peered into the darkness as well. The moon reflected in the Dark Lake, but other than that, there was no light, no torch lit. Even Hagrid’s hut lay in darkness.

“Best to get back into bed,” Crato said. “My feet are getting cold.”

Severus agreed as he felt the chill of the night creep into his heart as well.

Chapter Text

“Why did I agree to this?” Severus muttered under his breath, as the caterwauling of the band became louder with each step down the hallway. A handful of students walked in front of them, others behind them, all had their bat-shaped invitation cards ready for the Slytherin prefects blocking the entrance door to Slughorn’s office.

“Stop whining.” Crato rolled his eyes. “At least my idea of fun won’t get us killed unlike the adventures you drag us into.”

Fair enough. After smoothing down his best second-hand robes (the newly patched ones, he had looked up tailoring charms in the library), Severus joined Crato in the queue. Above their heads, ghost candles were floating around and humming spookily.

“Get your parents to prescribe you some glasses, Smethwyck,” Evan Rosier commented as he took Crato’s invitation slip. “You can do better than that.”

“Oh, you offering, Evan?” Crato leaned in almost sensually. As soon as Rosier recoiled in disgust, the Hufflepuff broke out in a big grin. “Apparently, you're just a tease. Pity. I do love blondes.”

“You’re such a pig.”

With that, Rosier moved on to the couple behind them in the queue.

“You shouldn’t challenge Evan like this,” Severus whispered. “There’s quite a vicious brain behind that pretty face.” It had been Rosier who had disfigured Moody. Sure, he had died in the same fight, but he hadn’t gone down fighting like a coward. That couldn’t be said for the majority of Death Eaters.

Crato threw him a side glance. “Geez, I didn’t know you had a thing for blondes, too.”

“Just … choose your battles a bit more wisely. Don’t make enemies of future Death Eaters unless you need to.”

“Pot, kettle. Besides, I’ve known Evan since year 1. He sent me to hospital twice. Once because he’s rubbish at potions and poisoned the entire classroom, and the second time when we were paired up in duelling class. This is just our usual teasing. I know when he’s serious.”

Severus looked back over his shoulder to study Rosier. As he was a year below, he had hardly had any contact with the boy since his return to the past. Rosier was the popular jockey sort. A Quidditch player, the four-times champion of the Duelling Club … and one of the Dark Lord’s most loyal supporters come next year. His family took pride in having served Grindelwald in the past. He was old blood, and unlike some of the inbred blood purists, he actually still had some brains under those blond curls to support his scheming.
During his original sixth year, Severus had felt incredibly flattered when Rosier had taken him under his wing. Had invited him to the seventh-years’ meetings in the Slytherin common room after midnight where they talked politics and badmouthed Dumbledore and Minerva while eating snacks and drinking butterbeer. Rosier wasn’t just dangerous for his abilities … he could be selectively kind when it suited his goals.
How many younger students had Rosier led down that dark path before he had met his own demise in 1981? The thought alone made Severus sick to the stomach. Somehow, he just knew that Avery’s and his spot at those midnight meetings would have been filled with some other poor sods already. The constant attacks on Wizarding infrastructure, on the ministry’s employees and their families, on Muggle streets … everybody, even first-years, were forced to choose a side, lest they be caught in the crossfire in-between the hardening front lines. The teachers were unable to stop the assaults, be it Slytherin kids who turned up covered in boils or puking up slugs, or Muggleborns who found themselves casually stunned only to fall down a set of stairs in the middle of the school day or walking past graffiti with slurs and threats in blood-red colour. Most people had resorted to moving around in groups of three or four.
The teachers looked more harrowed each day, because they tried to keep Hogwarts as safe as possible – patrolling the grounds in the night to keep outside threats away, reversing spell damage and punishing attacks in the hallways during the day. Things had become rather weird in the castle – to the point that the teachers just ignored Severus when he turned up without homework or read library books during class. Apparently, not cursing other students or shouting threats made him one of the “good kids” now.
Yesterday, he had actually received points in Defence – for not hurting his opponent during the practical. Severus hadn’t even gotten up from his seat to participate, actually. Potter had been rather annoying, going on about how they needed to practice to stay alive out there (I’ll be fine), and how they would lose points (what a tragedy … we’ll survive) and how he’d find himself a different partner (good luck.) and how he would just curse Severus whether he defended himself or not, but Severus had persevered and continued reading about Godric Gryffindor and his blasted sword in Hogwarts: History until the end of the lesson.

Even now, the house division and political situation left the students tense around each other. Severus could feel the eyes of the other students on them, as they entered Slughorn’s office.
What’s that Halfblood doing here?
He’s the one hanging out with Avery, that traitorous snake … they deserve a lesson in propriety …
Oh, great! Another of Slughorn’s Slytherins. Let’s move.
Don’t stare at him!

***

Slughorn’s office had been emptied of all furniture to make room for the 30 or so guests that were currently mingling. There was a small stage near the entrance, and the band played their instruments loud enough to raise the dead.
Meet me on Samhain, I’ll show you your grave
Meet me on Samhain, I’ll show you your gra-Ah-Ah-Ah-ve!

Behind the singer that reminded Severus of a veela with her silvery hair and the yellow eyes, lightning raced over the walls that had been spelled black like the night sky. Unlike normal paint, the texture seemed oddly fluid-like and rippled as if something was bubbling inside it. Occasionally, dark shadows would streak across the walls, too, or eyeballs would stare at you for a moment, only to be gone when you looked up in alarm. It was a neat bit of transfiguration. Minerva’s handiwork, no doubt.

“I heard from a couple of third-years that Slughorn had all students in detention help him decorate,” Crato said. “You, too?”

“Nah. He always makes me write lines or brew potions for the hospital wing.”
Frankly, the amount of Calming Draught he needed to restock had recently skyrocketed. It got to the point that Severus would have suspected the man sold them on the side if it wasn’t literally one of the cheapest potions in existence. The teachers truly had to be on their last leg going by their level of consumption.

“It looks pretty good for a job done by students, don’t you think?”

Severus had to grudgingly agree. There were spider cobwebs everywhere, and carved pumpkins rolled around trying to trip up people who paid more attention to their conversations than to their environment. In the back, Slughorn sat at the end of a banquet table like a prophet surrounded by his followers. The white tablecloth was splattered in fake blood, some had even gotten on the silver diving plates. As Crato and he made their way across the room, Severus could see the faces of the people Slughorn sat with. Lily and James Potter had their hands on the table and their fingers interlocked. They listened raptly to the muscled man on the other side. Some famous Quidditch player based on the squealy fangirling the two guys next to Severus and Crato were engaged in.
“I don’t have any paper! What do I do? Do you think he’s going to sign my robe?”
“Let’s ask! Oh my god, oh my god! It’s really him!”
Disgusted, Severus turned away to snatch a small canapé from one of the house-elves’ trays. Each of the snacks resembled mangled body parts. The gory finger turned out to be a strawberry mousse with a bottom of roasted almond crust. Put off by the sweetness, Severus handed it off to Crato who didn’t mind that there had already been taken a bite from the finger.
Three house-elves walked around with trays of drinks, offering them to the guests and herding the pumpkins away from their victims like yappy dogs when they began biting at the ankles.

“Youse need a disguise, sirs!” A house-elf with droopy ears put a bag in front of them with an assortment of wrapped gifts.

Crato reached inside, taking one from the bottom, before the house-elf ambushed the next guests.

“Let’s see.” Crato opened the box, revealing a set of fake vampire teeth and a headband with furry grey ears.

“If you come near me with one of those, I will Avada Kedavra you,” Severus promised and meant every word of it.

“Don’t you want to be a majestic werewolf?” Crato held up the headband. “Nah, never mind. Just keep your face like this, Snape. That’s scary enough for a Halloween party.”

Crato snatched two bottles of beer from one of the house-elf trays, tipped his wand against one of them to turn it into water, before handing the alcohol-free beverage to Severus.
“Let’s mingle.”

Together, they walked through the room, their respective drinks in hand. Nobody really sought them out, but all the non-Slytherin students greeted Crato like an old friend. Which he probably was since he was a regular at Slughorn’s parties. This was Crato’s world, and Severus felt oddly out of place.

“Maybe we’re lucky and a troll is going to attack Hogwarts,” he found himself saying, instantly regretting his joke. Not like Crato would get it anyway. Sometimes, it was lonely to be the only one to know what was to come.

“… If you really hate the party this much, we could grab some bottles from the house-elves and just hang out at the owlery with Diva, you know.”

Severus clinked his bottle against Crato’s. “It’s fine.”

And it was. Severus mostly remained quiet, as Crato got them invited into conversations that he could barely understand because the band of bandaged weirdoes was playing too aggressively on their instruments. Some of Slughorn’s guests – the mighty and famous – made their rounds, sometimes stopping to join them as well. Severus was mildly impressed by the former Minister of Magic (who looked twice Dumbledore’s age) and he had an awkward moment with the seeker of the English national team. They just had nothing to talk about. Severus clumsily asked about potions doping in Quidditch to find a common topic, which made the guy flush red and stutter. Thankfully, Crato saved him from that idiot by asking about England’s chances at the World Cup.

“And if it isn’t my favourite students,” Slughorn boasted, joining them with some goat-bearded guy who looked like an incarnation of Rasputin. He even had a wonky eye. “Edward, you simply must meet Hippocrates, he’s a Smethwyck.”

The man wore a robe with a stand-up collar and a cravat like an 18th-century nobleman. He eyed Crato speculatively before offering a handshake. “You into healing, boy?”

“Of course, he is,” Slughorn answered busily like a vendor at a street market. “One of my finest brewers, in fact.”

“I am Edward Bonham, chief of –“

“Staff at St. Mungo’s,” Crato finished. “We met last year at the hospital’s Christmas party.”

“Well, we definitely could use another Smethwyck. Which NEWTs do you take?”

Crato seemed unusually uncomfortable. “Potions, of course, um. Charms. Transfigurations. Herbology. Defence, and, um, Care of Magical Creatures.”

The man hummed. “Good choice. Many overlook the importance of studying creatures, especially for the healing profession. They believe those classes to be about petting Hippogriffs when most of the preventable deaths on our wards were caused by beasts and left untreated for too long. Your parents advised you?”

“I know what the job implies.” Crato took a slow sip from his bottle.

“He is reliable, patient and quite bright, too,” Slughorn praised. “One of the sharpest minds leaving Hogwarts this school year, if I may say so.”

“Well, I’d be happy to receive your application, then. We get all sorts of injuries, and believe me, patients lie a lot about how and when they were injured. Treatment can be as engaging as a good mystery.”

“What a fine offer.” Slughorn grinned like a cat who got the cream and caught the mouse.

The hospital guy now turned to Severus in an afterthought. “And you, boy? Any interest in medicine?”

“I … “ Severus stopped. It wasn’t because he felt self-conscious, it just … occurred to him that nobody had ever asked him for his interests. Life had just happened to him. There hadn’t been any Slug parties with smarmy adults poaching the next generation of hopeful would-bes and career orientation had been mostly Slughorn asking what he wanted to do, him saying he didn’t know, and Slughorn handing him some flyers.
In truth, he hadn’t had any plans when he had left Hogwarts. The potions master thing had basically happened because that’s what had been demanded of him. If Dumbledore had told him to become Filch’s successor, he’d have grabbed the next mop just as readily as he had donned those teaching robes. Not happy, but without complaining. Back then, he hadn’t been in any position to complain – no money in his bank account, no formal training after school whatsoever, and a dark mark on his arm.
He lowered his head to the point that his hair covered his eyes. “Sorry, I don’t have my potion OWL.”

The man lost the small spark of interest that he had managed to muster. “Oh, Horace. Is that Lucius? You must excuse me, he intends to finance a new ward. I should speak to him about the name, though. In these times, one should show some more decorum and political awareness. His cheque, though, his cheque, I tell you …”

As the hospital guy hurried off, Severus caught Slughorn’s gaze. The I told you so hung between them. You shouldn’t have slapped my helping hand away. Without me, you’re nothing.

“You’d do well to apply, Mr Smethwyck,” Slughorn said, breaking off the eye contact with Severus. “Edward is thinking about opening a new ward specifically for patients wounded by creatures. The career ladder there will be a short climb, you see. Not many who want to become healers remember to take Care of Magical Creatures on a NEWT level since it’s such a rare speciality. With your name and your capabilities ... if things go smoothly, you could be Head of such a department in ten, maybe twenty years.”

Crato didn’t look Slughorn in the eye. “Thank you, Sir, for the introduction.”

“No need for thanks. It's a pleasure to help young people fulfil their potential. By the way,” the potions professor’s gaze slid back to Severus in an inconspicuous way as he screened the room for his next conversation victims, “have you handed off Lupin’s dose to Madame Pomfrey already?”

“It’s done.” As If Severus would allow a werewolf to roam the grounds in a week’s time if he could prevent it.

Slughorn nodded pensively. “How long did I put you in detention for, again?”

“Until Christmas.”

“Are you staying?”

Severus felt mild annoyance at the thought that Slughorn tried to squeeze two more free brewing sessions out of him over the Christmas holidays. “I normally do.”

Slughorn waved towards Regulus Black and Barty Crouch jr. who had just entered the room. Before he waddled off, he slid in one last comment: “I am friends with the head of the WEA. Griselda, well Madame Marchbanks for you, often comes over during Christmas for a night cap. If you manage not to cause me any grief until the holidays, there may be an evening slot I could convince her to administer a make-up potions exam.”

Severus felt hollow inside as he watched Slughorn crowd Barty and Regulus, throwing them at some important ministry official who was sipping fire whiskey.

“Fat chance of that happening,” Crato whispered towards him with a sad smile on his face. “As if you could stay out of trouble, Snape.”

“I’ll have you know that Professor Bones awarded me points in Defence for good behaviour yesterday.”

“You mean that rumoured lesson that reduced Gryffindor, Slytherin and Ravenclaw to less than a hundred house points each? That’ll be the first year in decades that Hufflepuff is going to win the house cup.”

“Mh. It was so loud I almost couldn’t concentrate on Hogwarts A History. They even got some blood on my book.”

“… it was nice knowing you. Pince will skin you alive, my friend.”

***

“Oh god. I mean … oh, good,” Crato muttered as he spotted his name card on the dining table. Slughorn had placed him next to Edward Bonham and a pretty Ravenclaw girl who was attending with Evan Rosier. Penelope Clearwater’s mother, his brain supplied. It was still awkward when this happened. Severus had taught so many kids during his past that he now saw their faces in their parents. He had no clue what that girl’s name was, though. Probably not Clearwater yet.

Severus instinctively went around the table, assuming that he had been placed opposite Crato. He squeezed himself past Lily (who threw him a kind smile), Potter (who looked at him suspiciously), and Black. Or rather, the Black brothers who were fighting rather loudly about who was a bigger disappointment to their mother and father and great-uncles and actually, Severus didn’t care.

“Excuse me.” He just pushed past Regulus Black’s seat, ignoring how the boy flustered and tried to make room a second too late.

“Who let you in, Snivellus?” the older Black sneered. “Were you hired to help the house-elves?”

“I wish. I’d love to poison you.” The name plate next to Regulus was turned to the side, so Severus grabbed it to check –.

“That is my seat. I was so free to take yours until dinner starts.”

As if his fingers had been burnt, Severus snatched his hand away and stared at the person seated next to the place he was standing in front. Lucius Malfoy had placed his elbow almost casually on the table, supporting his head on his horizontally placed hand. His father’s damned walking stick was placed on the empty chair, leaving Severus to stand behind him like a fool. The fair-haired man made no movement to make room for him. Instead, he turned back around to his companion on the left, Evan Rosier.
God, Snape hated Slughorn. This seating arrangement was awful.
“You and your parents will be welcome guests, Evan,” Lucius said with a broad fake smile. “Though you may look to find a more suitable companion for the evening. One that would fit in with the crowd.”

“It will be an honor, sir.” Evan actually lowered his head.

“Oh, no. The honour will be ours.” Finally, Lucius threw Severus another side glance before he took up his walking stick and moved back to his own seat, completely ignoring Severus in favour of chatting to Regulus Black about his mother Walburga’s health.
With a frown, Severus too his seat opposite Crato’s, who seemed rather unhappy while talking medicine with Edward Bonham.

“Slughorn’s really taking pity on you, Snape,” Rosier suddenly whispered into his direction.

He ignored the boy, grabbing himself some of the breadsticks to fill the time before the house-elves would serve dinner.

Rosier hit him against the shin. “Get off your high horse already, mudblood. I am talking to you.”

“Halfblood,” he corrected. He stared away from Rosier, taking in the worried look Lily was giving him. He forced himself into a small smile before nibbling on the salty breadstick.

“At least you’re mingling with the right people again,” Rosier said, nodding towards Crato who was still dying of boredom while nodding in agreement to whatever Bonham was saying. “Ditched that Gryffindor mudblood and the blood traitor, then.”

Severus froze mid-bite. Was that the picture he was giving off because he was hanging out with Crato? His eyes sought out the seats next to Rosier, then the faces on the right side. The next non-Pureblood was Lily who sat four seats away. An anomaly amidst the snobbish elite.

Slughorn’s taking pity on you.

He forced the bite down his throat lest it make another appearance as his stomach was painfully curling itself inwards. Slughorn never did anything without a purpose. Placing Severus next to Lucius Malfoy, to Rosier … he was offering him connections.
Was this a test to see where Severus’ loyalties lay?
No. Slughorn didn’t care for politics. He only cared about money and wine and expensive chocolate.

Next to him, Regulus Black had just gotten invited to Lucius’ and Narcissa’s engagement party. The boy stuttered nervously but agreed to come without any hesitation.

Rosier, too, was chatting up the fourth-year Ravenclaw boy next to him.

Severus’ heart bumped against his rib cage over and over – as if it was trying to escape.

His eyes once again swept across the banquet table, ignoring the pleasant gasps of surprise as the house-elves magicked food plates onto it.
The Carrow siblings, Rosier, Barty Crouch, Regulus Black, Lucius, and yes … only two seats away from Rosier, there was Peter Pettigrew, mousy and looking somewhat lost.

Lucius and Rosier were recruiting.

***

Severus was incredibly furious at Sirius bloody Black. Couldn’t the idiot have taken Lupin to the party instead of that rat?
In his heart, he knew that, no, Black couldn’t have. The next Full Moon was only six days away. Lupin probably felt rubbish already.
The conversations around him gave him the creeps. Every now and then, there was a hint of racism, a hint of It may be a bit harsh but and Some are just worried about protecting our culture.

“Are you alright?”

Crato had broken through Bonham’s monologue, apparently having noticed that Severus was barely eating anything.

“I … may have drunk too much. Excuse me.”

Severus rose from his seat, not sparing another glance at the Death Eaters around him as he left the room in a hurry. Only outside did he manage to actually breathe.
He let his back crash against the stone wall. The noise of the party was vibrating behind him, the music still thumbing.

He needed time to think. Time to consider what to do.
Why was there no button to turn everything off?
He felt utterly out of control.

“You okay?”
Crato had joined him outside. Yeah. No chance of fooling him with that poor excuse. Severus definitely hadn’t drunk a single drop of alcohol.

“I just need some air. Too many people in there.”

Severus let himself sink to the ground, ignoring the fact that he was now sitting next to Crato’s dress shoes.

“We could skip dinner and return for the midnight fireworks if you want to.”

“Why are you scared of becoming a healer?” he asked instead of answering. It was always easier to talk about others and their feelings than about himself.

Crato instantly tensed up, just as he had when Bonham had offered him a job. “I am not scared of anything. Not even ginormous snakes.”

Too casual. Crato’s tendency to downplay the truth was confirmation enough for Severus. No Legilimency needed to read him. “You could become a healer like your parents. You’d be great at it. But you don’t have to become a healer. You know that, right? That it’s your choice. Not theirs or Slughorn’s, or that hospital guy’s in there.”

With a sigh, Crato dropped down beside him, sitting right next to him on the dusty and ice-cold dungeon floor. He held his hand in front of his face, turning it to the side as if to play with the candlelight – how to block it from his eyes, how to blend himself.
“When you become a healer, people expect you to be … a role model. You aren’t allowed certain behaviours that … would be distasteful to society. I know I’d be good at the magical side. I am not so sure about being that fake person. About … leaving myself behind.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course, you don’t. You weren’t raised in the magical world.” Crato stumbled over his words. “In most jobs, there’s a personal and a public side to you, and people may badmouth you for liking certain … things … but they’ll more or less let you be as long as you leave them alone as well. When you are a healer, though, that boundary becomes non-existent. You touch people’s bodies, their magic, their loved ones … they want you to be above all moral faults. Otherwise, they don’t feel safe with you.”

Severus still didn’t understand, which made him feel rather stupid.

“I told you, didn’t I? That I have one year left until I have to become an adult.” Crato’s Adam’s apple bobbed. “When I leave Hogwarts, there’s a part of me I know I’ll have to hide. And I know I can do that. It doesn’t scare me. I just wish … it could be different.”

Crato put his head against the stone wall looking up at the dark ceiling. “Do you want to know the real reason why I have never taken anyone to Slughorn’s parties before until today?”

To be honest, Severus was still freaking out about the Death Eater recruitment going on behind their back, but he felt just as powerless in this conversation as he had done at that banquet table. He wasn’t sure which discussion he’d rather be part of. It felt like Crato needed him to listen to this. At the same time, Severus had the impression that he was about to say something terribly wrong. That there was a big emotional thing coming his way and he wasn’t good at dealing with stuff like that. He was frantically looking for a way to send Crato towards Mary, dealing with people was her thing … when Crato took that decision out of his hands.

“I never take anyone with me because then it would be real. It wouldn’t be just in my thoughts or some teenagers fooling around.”

It.
Severus had a vague idea what this was about.
In all truth, he had always known without consciously thinking about it. There was just something about how Crato and Ben acted around each other.

“You’ve never taken Ben to any of the parties?”

“None.” Crato once more held his hand in front of his face to keep the candlelight away. “Then it would be real.”

“… You’ve taken me, though.”

Crato snorted, turning his head towards Severus. “Because you’re not real. You don’t count.”

That felt oddly offensive. “I am a real person, thank you.”

Crato began playing with the end of his robes, twisting the cloth between his fingers. “That's not what I meant. I enjoy spending time with you but I can always only imagine you in the present, Snape. You always live in the moment. You never give off the air of being someone that expects anything of the people around you because you yourself are not ready to give anyone that part of yourself. I am not even sure you’ll stick around. It feels like … you don't intend to have a future, so yeah. You’re fun to be with, but not real. I can share your adventures this year, but then I need to grow up. To settle down. I can see us as friends meeting up for an evening, but I know what kind of life I will be leading the other 364 days of the year. Do you know, though? What you will be doing once you leave Hogwarts?”

Crato’s brown eyes stared straight ahead into his as if they were looking for the answer. There was no need to fear any Legilimency. Crato could not find an answer in his head that was not even there.
He was right. Severus wasn’t a real person. He had no plans. No idea of who he wanted to be or what he wanted to do with this life. He hadn’t even known what to do with the past one. He was just ambling from one day to the other, living in the moment. Making the best of what he was given rather than … forging a path for himself.

“I just don’t think I’ll be there,” he whispered. “I don’t expect to survive this war.”

Crato bit his lip almost in sympathetic pain. “Pretend you’re not going to die soon. You’re going to live another hundred years. Is there nothing you’d like to do?”

But that was just it. Severus didn’t have the luxury to look past the Dark Lord’s demise. That was his purpose, his … his redemption. He’d been imprisoned in Hogwarts one and a half lifetimes, and he’d spent his time lying and deceiving the people around him to the point that he had himself no idea what the truth actually was.
“I want to leave,” he blurted out. Severus fought the urge to run, to just leave right this second. “I want to … see more of the world than just the dump I grew up in and … and these castle walls. I want to be free of all of this. I want to be defined by more than just this.” He closed his eyes. “But… I guess I wouldn’t mind coming back home once I found that.”
Behind him, he could feel the castle’s warmth travelling across his back for a second. Or maybe it was just his imagination.

“You mean as a teacher?” Crato narrowed his eyes. “You’d be rubbish at that. Your students would leave your lessons crying.”

“I could murder Dumbledore and take his job instead,” Severus joked weakly.

“Let’s finish off You-Know-Who first before we take over Hogwarts, okay? One step at a time.” Crato sighed, the tension falling off him like a cocoon. “We should probably go back inside before they think we’re making out.”

“Afraid I’ll ruin your reputation?”

Crato smirked. There was only a small glint of sadness left in his eyes to reveal that he was faking his joy. “Oh, Snape. Between the two of us, you were never the black sheep.”

For the second time, Severus experienced a déjà-vu, as Crato stood up first and reached down to help him up.
Once, the man had extended his hand in one of the halls of St. Mungo's despite the whole Wizarding World knowing about his previous Death Eater activities. There had been no hesitation, no prejudice.
Once, the boy had helped him up after they had been blasted out of the shop in Diagon Alley, knowing that he was Severus Snape, loser extraordinaire. The guy who had been undressed in front of the entire school by Potter and his ilk.
He had taken those hands as an offering of kindness. Now, it was his turn. He gripped Crato’s hand and let himself be raised up, holding on tightly. Accepting Crato for who he was: an equal.

***

Severus could barely keep his eyes from Crato during the rest of the dinner service as the boy engaged Bonham in a discussion about kneazle scratch wounds. He could picture Scamander’s black monster from that retelling. Unlike before, Crato seemed more relaxed, more open, even occasionally throwing a comment towards him to include him in the conversation.

“I want to see that ward come to life,” he blurted out, instantly turning red. Crato looked at him funnily, probably realising how much of a leap Severus was taking, speaking of the future. “I want to see you work there.”

“Me, too, my boy, me too.” Bonham yawned. He must have had at least three glasses of fire whiskey by then. “You better not be our first patient, though.”

At the head of the table, Slughorn clapped into his hands and gave an overly long speech about the history of Halloween, and coming together in dark times. Midnight had long passed, with a small firework to celebrate the occasion. The black walls had joined in, also depicting a bright spectacle of light and joy. The first students had gone to bed, Rosier leaving around the same time as Barty Crouch, Regulus Black and Pettigrew. Around Severus, it became quieter. Crato was off to get Bonham his coat. Lucius, too, seemed to be about done, as he brought his knife and fork on the empty plate neatly together.
The man grabbed his walking stick and was about to stand up when Severus put his hand on the silvery handle.
Lucius’ harsh stare spoke of the insult that crossed his mind. Insolent mudblood

You’re going to live another hundred years. Is there nothing you’d like to do? Crato’s voice echoed through his head. Of course, there was. He'd have to gain that life first, though. Forge his way ahead.

“I was wondering, Lucius … if I could come to your engagement party, too?”

The harsh gasp came from two seats down. Black was staring intently at him, his fist shaking around his fork.

Lucius eyed him up and down, pulling the walking stick towards himself, so that Severus lost his grip on the top. “Sorry, but the house won’t hold any more people.”

“Well, you never know who can make it and who can’t,” Severus dared reply. “Especially in these deadly times. If a spot opens up, I’d appreciate it if you considered me.”

Lucius put his head to the side as if in thought. In this time, they weren’t friends. They were nothing but acquaintances.

Severus hardened his expression, knowing fully well that he was treading on thin ground. “After our … encounter … during the summer holidays, I thought we had come closer.”

Lucius’ mouth twitched downwards. “Funny you would mention our … encounter in Diagon Alley again. I had considered it bygone. Your letter begged me to forget about it, after all.”

“Well, I would like to revisit it.” Severus’ eyes found Crato who was coming back to the table. “I feel like … maybe I was on the wrong side in our … argument.”

Sirius Black was staring holes into them.

“Choosing sides can be difficult,” Lucius agreed, licking his lips. “Very well. Maybe we can add one more plate to the table, Snape. I imagine the Avery family, or what is left of it, will not show up.”

As Lucius rose, Severus had a clear line of sight at Sirius Black two seats down, whose eyes were full of hatred.

Chapter Text

“You can’t go to the Malfoy party,” Mary hissed distractedly. Her hands were busy restraining the niffler’s paws. “Everyone’s going to think –! In this climate, Severus! Have you even considered the danger –! The ministry first curses and asks questions later!”

“Careful!” Severus hastily gripped the snarling beast, too, as it began spitting into their faces and kicking wildly. “I am going to skin you alive, you ruddy rat!” With a victorious shriek, the niffler caught his hand.

Together, they chucked the niffler back into its crate. Its mole-like claws scraped over the wooden door, and its nose insistently peaked out of the breathing hole. “Damn. It got you good, Severus.” Mary put her hand over his cut, pressing down to stem the blood flow. “Professor! We need some help over here, please.”

“He’s probably going to take points because we hurt the niffler’s feelings,” Severus muttered.

“Professor!”, Mary shouted again.

“Just be kind to the animals and they will show kindness to you,” Professor Kettleburn replied from two tables down. He was bent over Lupin’s and Potter’s work station. Severus felt like throwing their niffler box at the man’s head.

Mary took out her wand, nervously tipping it against his hand. “Vulnera Sanentur, right? That’s the spell you and Crato always use.”

Her chanting was much too soft, so Severus added his unblemished hand to her wand, guiding her into the proper wand motion. “Vulnera sanentur,” he demonstrated, melodious but insistent. She joined him on the second and third round. The wound knitted itself together, leaving a thin red line that would fade with time.

“You and animals are a recipe for disaster,” Mary commented, turning her head to the side to hide her small giggle from him. “Why are you even taking Care of Magical Creatures?”

Professor Kettleburn was finally making his way towards them. With each step, there was a clonking sound as his recently acquired wooden leg hit the ground. His bionic left arm wasn’t swinging with his motions either. Slowy but surely, the years of working with dangerous beasts were chipping away at his body. At least he still had his left eye under these untidy bandages. Severus still remembered how the infection had spread a few years down the line and the man’s flesh had begun smelling foul enough to turn the teachers’ stomachs at the table in the Great Hall. There had been nothing St. Mungo’s could do to save the eye. Kettleburn had tried to continue teaching, but with his sight impaired, Care of Magical Creatures had turned too dangerous, so Dumbledore had finally forced the man into retirement and replaced him with Hagrid.

“Where’s our little friend? Have you finished already?” the man asked with a frown, putting his remaining index finger uncomfortably close to the breathing hole of their niffler box. The monster threw itself against the crate walls.

“Almost.” They spoke at the same time.

Kettleburn patted the top of the box, then he went to check the next work station, humming under his breath.

“What if the invitation is a trap to silence you, Severus? You recognised Malfoy in Diagon Alley. If you showed the Ministry your memories now, they’d take him in and discover his mark and have him kissed.”

Gosh, Mary and him sometimes really were on the same wavelength. Although she probably would not like it that he had essentially blackmailed Malfoy into inviting him by implying just that.
“Malfoy doesn’t consider me a threat,” He was too much beneath to be anything but an afterthought on the man’s mind. “Besides, there’ll be dozens if not hundreds of people. Hardly the place to chuck me down some stairs.” His eyes flickered towards the table at which Mulciber fed his niffler alongside some Ravenclaw. Macnair hadn’t been allowed in Care of Magical Creatures classes since fourth year when he had killed one of Kettleburn’s pet crups by feeding it some poison ivy. “It’s our best shot to get some information on the locations of the remaining horcruxes. The place will be swarming with Death Eaters. I can look into their minds, Mary.”

She bit her lip on the same spot that was already darkened from years of the same treatment. “I don’t like it,” she admitted. “The Malfoy Manor … that’s a place I can’t follow you.”

“None of you can.” Avery was beyond saving when it came to his pureblood reputation. He had gotten too many Death Eaters kissed – even his own father. And Crato’s family background might be of interest to the Dark Lord, but there was no way this flamboyantly open-minded teenager could fake the sort of personality it would take to mix with that particular crowd. He didn’t have the sort of darkness inside his heart that Severus did.

“If you go,” Mary spoke slowly as if he was brain-dead, “you risk alienating Lily. She and Potter are always fighting about you in the common room, you know. If you go, you will prove Potter right.”

His heart gave a small squeeze at the thought. “What’s he saying about me?”

“The usual. Well, he’s not phrasing it as nasty as before, but he says you know lots of dark magic and you aren’t afraid of using it, and you have a quick temper, and you behave quite shady.”

Yeah, no objection to that description. He could not disprove that.

“And Lily? What does she say?” he asked, turning his attention towards the not yet filled out query form on their niffler’s health. He began scribbling some numbers on it, making an educated guess on the weight and height of the creature.

“That you’re under a lot of pressure with how the Slytherins treat you and Avery, and that you’re trying, and that Potter shouldn’t sabotage you, otherwise it would be his fault if you turned to the other side.”

Severus could imagine how Potter had reacted to that accusation. “I’ll talk to her about Malfoy Manor,” he promised.

“Oh?” Mary furrowed her brows. “Good.”

“Why so surprised?”

“… I expected that you would make me do that.”

Now it was his turn to furrow his brows. Did he really treat Mary this much like a lackey? “You can say no to me, you know that, right?” He randomly ticked the box for male and put his signature under the niffler query form.

“I know.” They locked eyes as he handed her the pen and she, too, scribbled her name on the page.

“You’re just better with people,” he blurted out. “That’s why I may have … taken advantage of you in the past.”

“I never said I minded. You’re not the only one getting something out of this friendship.” He twitched at the f-word. If Mary noticed, she didn’t show. She was too busy glancing towards Mulciber’s work station to make sure the guy wasn’t paying her any attention. He had the nasty tendency to stare.

“Let me hand in our assignment,” Severus said. “I want to give Kettleburn a heart attack.”
Severus grabbed the form and took it to the professor. Apparently, he had managed to set the expectations on his class participation so low over the course of the first weeks that a barely filled-out scrap of paper earned them ten points for their houses each. By God, he was single-handedly saving Slytherin from minus points by the sheer act of existing and not attempting any murder.

***

On their way back to the castle, they came across Minerva’s group. She was walking her fourth-years to the glasshouses for Herbology. Since the day Severus had overheard Dumbledore’s discussion with the minister of magic, students were barely allowed to leave the castle walls on their own. There were some hours on the weekend for recreation, and even then, there were always two or three teachers patrolling the grounds as well as some Aurors. Rumour in Slytherin had it that Dumbledore made sure no one could leave Hogwarts to join the Dark Lord.
Severus was of a different opinion.
Pensively, he turned towards the Forbidden Forest and scanned the first line of trees. They were too close to the castle to spot anything, but it was eery how there was no bird flying over those treetops. None.

“No dawdling, Mr Snape!”

Minerva’s voice startled him, as he wasn’t even part of her class. Yet she had stopped next to him.

“Sorry, professor.” He narrowed his eyes at her, noticing that she was actually observing him quite intensely. Worth a try. He kept up eye contact, not actively looking for fear of having such a powerful witch realize what he was doing. However, he opened his mind, opened himself up to any scrap of thought or emotions he could snatch from her. “I thought I had seen something move in the Forbidden Forest.”

Her eyes flickered towards the trees, and yes. Fear. Her hand suddenly grabbed his arm, pushing him toward the castle. “Move along, Mr Snape. You must have been mistaken.”

“Of course.”
He put his hands into his robes and followed the group of NEWT students led by Kettleburn’s wobbly steps.

“Alice said she saw something in the Forest, too, Professor and that it attacked her before she became unconscious,” he heard one of the fourth-year Gryffindors tell Minerva from behind him. By now, he was the last one of his class, even Mary was a couple of steps in front of him and looking expectantly back towards him. “Did the ministry forbid Quidditch because those things are creeping around?”

“Mister Wilkes, stop spreading such nonsense! You have seen for yourself that there is no mark on Miss Fortescue. She became the victim of a tasteless prank and the fainting spell has messed with her memories, that is all. Move along, now. Professor Sprout is waiting.”

“It’s just … I finally got on the team. I wanted to play! And I don’t get why there can’t be any Quidditch.”

“Oh, Mr Wilkes.” She sounded more defeated, more honest now. “You have to understand that it would be a bad idea to have such a large crowd of students outside the castle walls in this sort of political climate. The ministry wants to protect you.”

The boy began muttering something under his breath, but Severus could no longer make out the words. Minerva had caught him staring, so he strode up to Mary with three large steps.

Protection. Sure.
If anything, the ministry was turning Hogwarts into a prison. Some things never changed.

***

Lily was eyeing him like an exotic animal at the zoo when he studied their star map that had to be complete by Christmas. They were cutting it close, and the weather didn’t help. The night sky was quite grey, leaving the NEWT students bored out of their minds as the pairs took turns staring through the telescopes to wait out a gap between the clouds.

“You’re scaring me,” Lily commented lightly. “Are you actually working on our project?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “What’s it with you? When I don’t take my studies seriously, you complain. When I do take my studies seriously, you complain, too.”

For some minutes, they quietly sat next to each other, Lily stuck behind the telescope, Severus bent over the desk to stare at the map. Astronomy had always been a hit and miss subject for him. It didn’t require any skills – just patience. If you wanted good grades, you just had to look and then draw the stars. The practical application was limited. As a potions master, sure, he had relied on moon phases to determine and maximise the potency of ingredients. Herbologists, too, had use of astronomy. Other wizards and witches … not so much. It was a relict of a time before clocks, before the Point Me spell to find your way.
Some people, he supposed, looked at the stars and saw something other than dying lights. Severus didn’t have the eyes for that. Lily, though … he liked looking at her as she stared through the telescope. Her body was still, and she seemed utterly in harmony with her environment.

Before Hogwarts, they had once lain on the grass next to the river behind Spinner’s End and stared at the evening sky. First, the sun had turned everything red and orange, cutting the sky like a knife and making it bleed. Then, the dark blue of the night had slowly invaded until there had been three layers on the horizon.
Lily had wanted to go home when the moon had risen, but Severus had begged her to stay. He couldn’t remember why he had struggled to let her go. To return home himself. Maybe there had been a bad grade at school, or his father had gotten laid off again, or … it didn’t make any difference.
Lily had stayed. She had stayed until the sky above them was littered in stars, until her father had come round with his car looking for them. That had been the only time Mr Evans had actually scolded them. Had raised his voice. Somehow, Severus hadn’t minded. The man's anger had warmed him from the inside after the night wind had cooled his fingers and legs. Maybe because Mr Evans hadn’t been angry at them at all. Had simply been scared for them.

“You know already, don’t you?” he asked Lily quietly. “You know that I am invited to Malfoy’s engagement party.”

“… It has come up in conversation.”

“I am going.” He looked straight ahead at her, although Lily still wasn’t taking notice of him. She’d rather stare at the cloudy night sky above Hogwarts. “But it’s not because I agree with his political ideas.”

“Why, then?” Finally, Lily glared at him. It wasn’t anger that filled those green orbs behind the messy red bangs. Instead, she seemed … worried. He could feel her tension like a blanket slowly suffocating his mind. Severus shut himself off to her emotions. “Why throw yourself in with those racists? It’s dangerous. Everyone in Gryffindor is saying that the Ministry declared war against the old families. That it’s just a matter of time until –! You should not get swept up with the Malfoys and Rosiers and Blacks and their lot!”

“It’s dangerous to be seen with them? Well, Lily, I hate to break it to you, but for me, it’s more dangerous to oppose them publicly.”

“But it’s the right thing to do!”

“Some of us don’t have the luxury of always doing the right thing,” he said a tad too sharp going by her flinch. “I have to sleep in the same room as Mulciber and Macnair. Whenever I go to bed, I pass Death Eater wannabes sitting around the fire in the common room and they joke about who the Dark Lord has managed to kill that day. They bet on who’s next, Lily. Sometimes it’s just children being mean, cursing teachers who gave them too much homework or detention. Sometimes they’re discussing which targets would be easiest to hit. Then it’s not so innocent anymore. They write to their parents. They … Ave and I are not sitting with the Hufflepuffs during meals because we suddenly fancy a yellow tablecloth over a green one. How often do you think Avery’s clothes disappear, or he gets hit by a tripping spell when he uses the bathroom? We’re on a thin line with the Slytherins. They consider him a traitor and me just as much a … Mudblood as you.”

Lily’s lips were pursed. “We’re winning, Sev. Dumbledore could protect you if you just trusted him.”

“Well, I don’t,” Severus replied. “I trust him to do the right thing for the Greater Good. But that isn’t necessarily the right thing for me.”

She sighed, closing her eyes. “Just be careful. Promise me. Right now, no side in this war actually likes you, Sev. And I am really afraid you’ll bind yourself to the wrong side to rectify that.”

Behind Lily, the shadow of the Forbidden Forest began moving slightly, as if something large or … an army of smaller things was rustling through the undergrowth. His back straightened as he briskly walked as close as possible to the railing of the astronomy tower. He strained his eyes but the Forest lay still again. As it should.

***

The invitation to Lucius’ engagement party arrived exactly two weeks after Halloween. A flock of snowy owls had flown in during breakfast, each of them carrying a black envelope closed off with a wax seal by the Malfoy signet ring. The teachers hadn’t seemed particularly happy about the uproar. Severus had felt Dumbledore’s eyes on him as one of the snowy owls had landed on his arm, too. Apparently, not everyone had heard about Lucius' visit to Slughorn's Halloween Party, then.

The 24th of December, how quaint.

Crato and Avery both seemed rather uncomfortable with the letter in his hand and owl on his arm, but they did not comment.

***

November had slowly but steadily given way to December. Severus mostly spent his time reading up on spell theory, the founders’ objects and he actually bothered to do his assignments. It was insane how doing the bare minimum required for class got him into the teachers’ good graces. Flitwick would not take points when he spotted Severus walking around the castle after hours, Minerva would smile encouragingly at him across the Great Hall, and he was awarded points in class for handing in the barest of bare essays that he wrote from memory rather than reading up on the topic.
The first time around, he had hardly gotten any praise for the work he had put into his schooling, and back then, he had written essays as eloquent and well-researched as Hermione Granger.
Apparently, you just had to misbehave first and then you received positive attention for essentially just showing up on time with some scribbles on parchment.

***

It was on the last day of classes before the Christmas Holidays that something broke through the monotonous dreary atmosphere that was hanging over Hogwarts since Quidditch and Hogsmeade weekends had been banned.

“I just got detention from Dumbledore,” Crato declared with a furious look as he flopped down at the Hufflepuff table for lunch. “For visiting Hagrid!”

“That’s not against school rules.” Severus frowned. “What did you really do?”

“That’s just it! Nothing!” Crato grabbed some bun and stabbed it with his knife down the middle before tearing it into two halves. “Those bloody idiots just stopped me on the way, shouted at me and then took me to Dumbledore’s office. And he wouldn’t listen to me and just said I have detention with Slughorn tonight.”

“What idiots?” Avery asked through a mouth of pumpkin soup.

“Aurors. Two of them.” Crato slapped some butter onto the halves of the bun. “They accused me of leaving the grounds. They even asked me to take off my shirt to look at my arm. And I don’t mean in the bathroom! They made me strip down to my pants right outside Hagrid’s hut. Dumbledore didn’t give a damn about how they talked to me as if I was a criminal, but when I told him about the stripping, he became really angry and they started arguing. And I mean argue. At some point, the Aurors threatened to have him sacked for not cooperating with the ministry, and he told them to do it and laughed in their face, and they finally stormed off again.” Crato bit into his buttered bun. “I’m still in detention, though. For doing nothing.”

“Why were you even going to Hagrid’s? He’s a bit … weird in the head.” Avery frowned. “And huge. Not quite human.”

“I always help him with the critter he finds on the grounds of Hogwarts, and in exchange, he lets me keep some of their teeth or scales or blood to experiment with.” Crato’s face soured. “November and December are often quite busy months for him. A lot of magical creatures abandon their young when it becomes colder. Hagrid says he’s never experienced something like this, though. Something’s driving the animals away from the forest and even strong-looking and healthy critter are left behind. He hasn’t even spotted a unicorn in forever, only the nasty stuff.”

Severus frowned. “What about the centaurs? Have they talked about what upsets the forest dwellers?”

“They’ve retreated. Hagrid says they talked some gibberish about darkness clouding the moon and how they couldn’t see the stars anymore.”

Severus let his gaze wander towards the wall that lay in the direction of the Forbidden Forest. “Interesting.”

“Bloody scary, that’s what it is,” Crato mumbled. “You really need to get your adjectives straight, Snape. It’s this kind of attitude that will get you killed one day when you don’t have people with actual common sense at your side to protect you.”

Suddenly, a group of tiny Hufflepuff second-years hurried past them and out of the Great Hall. In the middle, there was a red-faced girl drowning in her own snot and tears.

“Another Death Eater attack?” he asked. Severus tried not to keep up with the news. It was always depressing, no matter who was reported to have been killed or tortured into insanity.

“That was Sybil Dolohov,” Avery supplied with a sad face. “Her brother Antonin was kissed this morning. He was the Death Eater who went into the ministry lobby and just started throwing killing curses at random visitors.”

“Poor thing.” Crato sighed. “Her parents should have taken her home before the news broke. People will be really nasty towards her.”

Week by week, the numbers of students dwindled. By now, there was barely a class that did not miss a face or two.

“Going home isn’t an option for Sybil.” Avery put down his spoon, apparently no longer hungry. “Her parents are scheduled to be kissed tomorrow. When they got her brother, they went ‘round their family house for an inspection. I heard Mulciber and Macnair talk about it yesterday evening. The dad was revealed to be marked, and her mom resisted arrest and killed one of the Aurors, so she is treated like a follower, too.”

“This will never end, will it?” Crato put his face into his hands to shut out the world for a second or two. “A never-ending cycle of violence and revenge.”

“It will stop when the ministry has eradicated all Death Eaters,” Severus replied gloomily. “Or when the ministry cannot replace its assassinated employees anymore.”

Severus let his gaze wander over the four tables of students. Took note of the gaps, of the tense faces all around. By now, everyone knew somebody who had died or was kissed.

Merry Bloody Christmas.

***

“You don’t have to accompany me to detention, you know,” Crato said, as Severus walked him to Slughorn’s office.

“Are you kidding? This is my chance to rub it into Slughorn’s face that I am a free man now.”

Wasn’t it amazing that the 24th fell on a Friday this year? As if to spite Slughorn with his stupid detention-until-Christmas rule. Severus was sick of slaving over cauldrons for the man, especially since the potions professor would lecture him as if he was an idiot.
Of course, Severus knew what Slughorn was doing. He was teaching him the sixth-year curriculum outside of class. His old self would have appreciated the gesture, but by now, Severus was intimately familiar with the subject, what, with having taught it for ten years. Slughorn’s instructions were annoying background noise, nothing else. It had cost him quite a lot of patience to fake any sort of interest.

***

Severus had had another motive for accompanying Crato down to Slughorn’s office, of course. These days, he tried to spend as much time outside the common room as possible. Wherever you looked, you would find a sobbing first- or second-year, or some of the older students would have heated whisper-debates about politics. Especially the few halfbloods and Muggleborns huddled together near the fireplace, all of them looking around like sheep stuck in a den of wolves. They were as disliked as Avery.
He didn’t feel threatened, though. Since the arrival of the invitation, the Slytherins treated him with caution. Severus wasn’t invited to join their circles, but they would not antagonize him anymore. It was as if he didn’t exist.
Instead, Severus disliked the tense feelings all around. Even with Occlumency, it was hard to close himself off to those emotions of mistrust, of fear, of niggling doubt and despair. He could hardly think, what, with those suffocating thoughts filling the air of the Slytherin common room.
So he would walk. At first, it had annoyed him when he had noticed that his body had decided to patrol the corridors, as if he was still a teacher. Then, he had accepted that this behaviour was ingrained in his very soul. Since then, he would patrol Hogwarts and let himself remember.
Sometimes, he could see Hermione Granger in front of his eyes, standing on her toes and grabbing books from a high library shelf, when he walked into Mrs Pince’s territory shortly before closing time.
Sometimes, he would walk to Minerva’s classroom – and remember how he would get her for dinner. The woman often had forgotten to come to the Great Hall because she would remain behind to correct students’ essays. Over the course of their years as colleagues, Severus had found himself in that routine. In entering her classroom, waving his hand lazily, waiting for her to follow him. They would exchange some banter, sometimes. Later, they would squabble about Potter.
She hadn’t liked his prejudices. Hadn’t like the way he disparaged the boy.
Not once, though, had she been honest to him. Never had Minerva told him to get over his childhood issues.
In a way, Severus was thankful to her. She had let him rave and rant. Had listened to his complaints, even though she would not share them. They had been equals.

Sometimes, Severus would remember classes walking through the deserted corridors. Would imagine their faces – a mixture of robes since those memories weren’t real. It was just students whom his brain could remember. They would pass him, some nodding respectfully, some glancing away shyly like Neville Longbottom, some glaring back at him like Harry Potter.

Patrolling duties could be lonely. But this … this was one of the few things that reminded Severus of who he was. Of who he had been.

***

It happened near the boys’ bathroom on the sixth floor. That damned place that his mind would often connect with a ghost-like memory of Draco Malfoy drenched in his own blood and the water on the ground. With Potter who had never looked more like the Dark Lord himself than in that moment. As if something dark had lurked behind those green eyes.
Severus stopped dead in his tracks as a shout broke through the night’s silence.

“Leave me the fuck along, Sirius!”

Still Draco Malfoy - blood – on his mind, Severus rushed towards the closed bathroom door, throwing it open with his wand in his hand.

“Show me your arm!” Sirius Black had grabbed his brother, who was about a head shorter despite only being two years younger. The boys were brawling on the wet floor, each clawing at the other’s clothes and arms to get the upper hand. “Show me your fucking arm!”

“Leave me alone!”

Regulus punched his brother against the nose, but Black did not even flinch as blood dripped down his mouth and chin. He had that look. The one Severus had learned to fear over years and years of enmity. Like an attack dog, he stared straight ahead at his target as if to prepare an assault.

Time to split them up lest someone died. “Flipendo!”

Both boys were pushed to different sides of the bathroom, Regulus Black rolling around wildly until the wall stopped his movements, the older Black cushioned his fall with some wandless magic.
Show-off.

Those burning dark eyes found Severus, who had remained in the door of the bathroom.

Slowly, Sirius Black rose to his feet, not even bothering to go for his wand or wiping his bloody nose. He was a formidable wizard. Severus did not labour under the misapprehension that he was fully in control just because he held the man at wand-point.

“Stay out of this, Snivellus,” Sirius warned, almost casually moving towards him. Probably to block the door before his brother could leave. Regulus’ was eyeing his only escape route quite obviously.

“I am not afraid of you.”
A lie. But Severus wanted it to be true.

Black came to a standstill right in front of him. Never before had Severus realised how similarly-built they were. About the same height. A slight frame. Jet-black hair and eyes … and Black was just as pale as him.
The Pureblood who ended up in Gryffindor.
The boy born to a Muggle father who ended up in Slytherin.

“This is a family matter.” Black’s hand grabbed Severus' wand hand as if to force him to retreat. “Leave.”

“Funny,” Severus commented, “that’s what your brother demanded of you, too.”

Regulus hickuped in the background. The boy had gotten back on his feet and was cradling his right arm. Severus didn’t know if he had hurt the fourth-year by accident when he had flung the two brothers apart, or whether this one was Sirius Black’s doing.

“Last chance, Sniv. Leave.”

“Haven’t you heard, Black?” He tore his hand free, relishing in the surprised widening of Black’s eyes who had not expected him to suddenly make such a move after presenting himself so meekly. “I am really bad at following instructions. Especially this school year.”

“I want to go to bed,” Regulus squeaked. “Please!”
The boy was looking at Severus.

“You can go,” Black said, “but I want to see your fucking arm, Reg!”

The boy was pale as the moonlight. “I am not –! I … I told you I …”

“What’s the purpose, Black?” Severus cut Regulus off. “Imagine he was marked, what would you do? Tell the ministry?”

They stared at each other, still much too close for Severus’ liking. Finally, Black turned his gaze back to Regulus. “I want to see whether our dearest parents have stained you like this yet. You are my brother, Reg. Show me. You owe me the truth.”

Regulus’ breath hitched. “Stop talking like that about mom and dad! You –! You are the one who brought shame to … to our name!”

“You are better than this! You can be better than them, Reg! Stop listening to their crap and –“ Black bit his tongue. He rubbed his eyes tiredly.

“Still as idiotic as ever,” Severus commented, putting his wand away to free his hand. Almost dramatically, he pushed his own shirt sleeves up and made a show of parading his unblemished forearms to Black. “Your turn, Regulus.”

The timid boy sought shelter in Severus’ shadow, before he nervously rolled back his own sleeves as well.

“See?” Severus could not keep his annoyance out of his voice. “When you don’t shout and assault people, they’re more likely to give you what you want.”
Then, he grabbed Regulus’ sleeves and tore them down again to cover the milky skin underneath, before pushing the boy through the bathroom door to get him past his brother’s body. It was a tight squeeze, what, with him between them, but as soon as Regulus stood in the corridor, he stumbled backwards to get some feet between them.

Black’s first reaction of relief had not lasted. He was grabbing the frame of the door, his fingers white as bone. “It doesn’t matter,” he whispered, staring right at Regulus. “You’re going to get yourself branded like cattle anyway, aren’t you. Maybe on that Malfoy party, or the next pureblood event our parents drag you to, or the one afterwards, or on your graduation day as a present because mommy and daddy know best. You’re never going to leave them. You're never going to leave this shit behind!”

A tear rolled down Regulus’ cheek. “They’re our family, Sirius. You. Don’t. Leave. Family. You’re the one who’s in the wrong. You abandoned us. Not the other way around!”

“They abandoned me first,” Black shouted, probably waking up the Ravenclaws in their tower going by sheer volume. “They ridiculed me for my friends, they told me to shut up when I questioned their ideas, they stopped talking to me as if I didn’t exist! She … she erased me from the family tree!”

“Because you called her a vicious hag who would have drowned us in the backyard pond if we had turned out to be squibs like granddad had done with her brother!” Regulus had his hands in fists. “And instead of apologizing, of coming back to us when she sent you the notice about grandfather’s funeral, you … -.” A second tear joined the first. “You left, Sirius. Whatever happens to our name … okay, that’s on them. But …. But …. What happened to us as a family …. that’s on you.”

The boy didn’t wait for a reply. He ran.

“Reg! Come back! Come the fuck back!” Black followed him down the corridor, but he stopped around the corner. Like a kicked dog, he remained rooted to the spot as if he hoped that his brother would listen to the command.

Severus knew he had made a mistake when Black turned towards him. He shouldn’t have stayed. It wasn’t just their usual animosity that was burning in those eyes. It was shame, too, now fuelling those flames into a hellfire.
He had heard something he wasn’t supposed to hear.
And Black would make him pay for that.

“Enjoy the highlife, Snivellus. All those Pureblood parties and dainty foods and meeting powerful people and feeling superior. Enjoy it while you still can. Because I will wreck all of that.”

The bell of the clock tower tolled above them.

Black passed him, the corners of his mouth moving only slightly with his words. “Merry Christmas. Snape.”

Chapter Text

The train was only a pinprick in the distance and the other students were already turning back towards the castle. Severus, though, was still looking at the horizon where the Hogwarts Express had disappeared into. Saying his good-byes to the others had felt weird. Mary had handed him a present wrapped in Gryffindor-red paper – definitely a book based on those edges.
“Don’t get yourself killed,” she had whispered while giving him a quick (one-sided) hug, before boarding the train with a small jump. Yeah, he’d definitely have to come up with a present. Severus hadn’t expected anything, and the book in his hands made him quite uncomfortable. Thankfully, the Hogwarts owls were quick flyers. Maybe a flame of ever-burning fiendfyre caught in a paper lamp. She’d appreciate the humour behind it.
Next , Crato had thrown an arm around his shoulders and promised: “I’ll send Diva over tomorrow.”
“Are you trying to ruin my Christmas?”
That had earned him a friendly jab to his side, before Crato had boarded as well.
His exchange with Lily had remained short, with Potter standing next to her as if they were glued to each other. Avery, too, hadn’t seemed keen on riding on the train with the Gryffindors.
“Don’t bother the Evanses too much,” Severus had said to Avery. “But do annoy Petunia for me, will you?”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay over?” Lily had asked. “Mom did extend the invitation to you. We’d be happy to have you over, too. It would be a bit cramped, but we’d manage somehow. You wouldn’t have to stay at your dad’s.”
Severus’ eyes had slid over to Potter who had grimaced only slightly. Kudos to him for keeping a mostly straight face. “I need to catch up on my studies,” Severus had lied to cushion the rejection. “Give your parents my best, though.”
“As if you would ever do any studying,” Potter had mumbled, so Lily had stepped on his foot. “What? I said Bye, Snape.”
“Bye, Potter.”

A small part of him had imagined himself at the Evans home. It would be filled with warmth and cheer, and it would have been crammed full of people. There’d be Lily and Petunia in the kitchen baking cookies and arguing about whose fault it was that the dough wasn’t rising properly, and Mrs Evans and Avery would sit in front of the TV to watch that medical drama. Mr Evans would probably be decorating the Christmas tree alongside Potter. Severus could see himself helping those two, and they’d probably keep silent not to start a fight.
It would have been … dare he think it … nice.
Instead, he’d spend Christmas surrounded by Purebloods with extremist views and a snobbish attitude when they heard his last name.

“Mr Snape. Time to return to the school.” Minerva had caught up to him, as he was one of the last people at the Hogsmeade train station. The teachers still trailed the students whenever they left the castle walls as if they expected the Dark Lord himself to jump out of the woods.

“Sure, professor.”

He put Mary’s gift under his arm and warmed his hands in his robe pockets. There was quite a cool winter wind chasing through the Scottish highlands. The sky promised snow, with grey clouds hanging low above their heads and their breaths sending puffs into the air.

“Professor.” Minerva was walking beside him on their way back to the castle, with Slughorn leading the trail of students and them at the end of the group.

“Yes, Mr Snape?”

“You should spend Christmas with your brothers. Before it’s too late.”

Minerva stopped dead in her tracks. “What did you say, Mr Snape?”

“Family’s important. You should spend Christmas with them before it’s too late and you’ll regret thinking that there’ll be another time,” he repeated quietly, only stopping once he was two steps in front of her. “You got somewhere to be, Professor. Hogwarts won’t fall just because you’re selfish for once.”

“How do you know about my brothers?”

Severus blinked at her. “You mentioned them before.”

“No, I didn’t.” Minerva’s face was hard. “I never mention my family to students.”

Severus remembered the day that blasted black owl had landed in front of Minerva at the table in the Great Hall. To this day, it had been the only time he had seen her tears. Minerva always prided herself on her emotional control. Severus remembered the day Robert McGonagall jr. had been killed in a Death Eater attack. Remembered Rodolphus’ gloating at the next meeting. One half-blood less to sully their world.
It had been 1980 or 1981. The details escaped Severus sometimes.
Afterwards, Minerva had visited her remaining brother and her nephews every Christmas. Without any exceptions. Well. One. During his days as headmaster when she had vowed never to speak to him again unless it was strictly necessary, she had sought him out in his office to request time off during Christmas for a family visit. She had stood before him tense and ready for him to deny her out of spite. He hadn’t. She had stayed at Hogwarts anyway. Well, the Weasley chit had tried to steal the sword of Gryffindor, and he had had to punish them, and everything had been a mess, and Minerva had suddenly cancelled her plans to keep an eye on him and her beloved students.

Severus glanced into the distance over Minerva’s shoulders. “Does it matter, professor, when and where I heard about your brothers? I am just saying. You should spend Christmas with them. It’s nice that you stay around for those like me who have nowhere to go, but your presence doesn’t change a thing. It’s an empty gesture, nothing more. If you think that it makes anyone happy that you stay behind when you actually got a home to return to, you’re mistaken.”

“What a petty and inappropriately familiar tone, Mr Snape.” Minerva’s lips were white with the force put on them by her jaw. “Move along towards the castle. Now.”

“Just saying, professor.” He lowered his eyes to signal his compliance. “Life moves so fast and we often only realise how much we value people once they’re gone.”

He turned around to make his way back to Hogwarts. It was only a matter of hours until the portkey to Malfoy Manor would leave. Slughorn was in charge of organizing their safe travel.

“Mr Snape.” He glanced back over his shoulder. Minerva was still rooted to the random spot on the train platform. “I was very sorry to hear about your mother. Even if I didn’t say so last year. I … didn’t feel it was my place to comment. Or that such words would be welcome.”

“If that is all, professor?”

Minerva nodded slowly. “That is all, Mr Snape.”

***

Malfoy Manor was as grand as Severus remembered it, with moving portraits of ancestors covering the walls of the entrance hall, and marble floor tiles turning the room into a gigantic chess board.
The other guests weren’t in any mood to appreciate this detail, though, as they were queuing for the dining room. Mistletoe was hanging down the doorframes and chandeliers, and there were Christmas trees in the plural decorating the ancient Malfoy house.

“Lucius must have spent some serious money,” whispered Regulus Black next to him. The boy was wearing an expensive green robe with silver buttons. “Look. There are fairies sitting in those trees. If they feed on the sap, those trees must be wand-wood quality, not some cheap conifers from any old forest.”

Severus spotted the tiny flutters, the silvery beady faces between the tree needles. “Seems more like a Narcissa thing than a Lucius thing.”

He offered his mother’s wand to the wizard that controlled the invitation cards at the dining hall entrance. The man’s face contorted in disgust when he took the chipped wand. Then, he chucked it into a wand box and wrote Severus' name on it. “You’ll get it back when you leave. Security measure.”

The man obviously didn’t know Severus. It was much more dangerous to have him wandless and be creative about how he achieved his goals.

Regulus’ wand was treated with more care, but it ended up in another wand box under the man’s desk. Behind them, the other Hogwarts guests had to go through the same procedure. Some, Severus had known would be there because they had been at Slughorn’s party. Evan Rosier stood proudly behind them in dark-blue robes and he gave off the air of someone that was above these proceedings. Then there were the Pureblood children that were probably on an extended invitation since their parents were already inside: The Carrow siblings, Macnair, Mulciber, the usual. Some had brought light luggage, making use of the tour to avoid the tedious travel by Hogwarts Express. They’d return home with their parents rather than take the portkey.

“What did you get for Lucius?” Regulus asked as they made their way through the mingling guests. There were lots of adults and important-looking people as well as young families. Severus could feel some stares on him, probably because his robes were a bit scruffy on the seams from where the extension magic had thinned out the fabric. It was by far his best choice, though, something that Mary and Avery had agreed on. Not that it really mattered. Severus wasn’t someone to dress to impress. He would just like not to be seen as coming straight from the gutter.

“I magicked something up. You?”

“Whatever mum and dad bought.”

“They’re going to be here, right?” Severus realized.

Regulus pointed across the room towards a woman that Severus only knew in her portrait form. Walburga Black looked somewhat frail, as she sat on a chair at the side of the room. Narcissa stood next to her, and the two women were holding hands and talking to each other about something serious.
Severus couldn’t take his eyes off Narcissa. My god, she was so young. Her blond hair flowed down her backside, with tiny red petals woven into it. Her white dress resembled something Severus only knew from wedding advertisements.

“Seems like dad’s not well enough today,” Regulus said quietly. “Sometimes, he forgets where he is. It’s no good taking him to unfamiliar places on those days.”

Severus followed Regulus across the room. Whilst mother and son reunited in a hug, he held Narcissa Black’s gaze. Severus reached into his pocket to withdraw his engagement present. “Congratulations, Miss Black. I am sure you will make Lucius a wonderful wife and a better person.”
Her eyes turned more curious while she took the small velvety box. Severus had magicked that, too.

“And you are … ?”

“Severus Snape. I am in sixth year.” He bowed before her and who she would become.

Narcissa grasped the small box, turning it upside down as if to guess what it could be from the weight.

“A potion?” she inquired.

“We all need a little luck sometimes.”

“You’re … in sixth year?” Her voice turned incredulous.

“I am.” He stepped back to give way to the other Hogwarts students that had approached to present their gifts and well-wishes to Narcissa.

“Mother, shall I help you to the dining table?” Regulus had his hand on Walburga Black’s arm. Severus quickly came to the boy’s aid to support the woman’s other side. She didn’t weigh much, but there was hardly any power left in those legs. Once, she almost fell, but somehow, they caught her and rightened her up again. It was as if there was another hand supporting them – but Narcissa seemed too engaged in her conversation to have noticed their ailing. A house-elf, then.

“Snape,” Walburga suddenly mused. “Is your name … from the continent?”

“He’s –“ Regulus was about to make excuses, but Severus wouldn’t have any of that.

“I am a Halfblood. My mother was a Prince, my father’s a Muggle.”

“A mudblood.” Her voice dipped. “Regulus, why did you bring a Mud-“

“I was invited by Lucius himself.” Severus let go of Walburga as soon as she was securely sat down. Then, he consciously rubbed his hands as if to rid them of dirt. “If you dislike my presence, you should take the issue to him.”

Mrs Black had her lips pursed.

“He’s actually amazing, mom,” Regulus defended him. “Brilliant when it comes to potions.” He lowered his voice. “He protected me from Sirius just yesterday. Sirius attacked me in the corridor and was really unhinged.”

“Your brother will be the death of me,” Walburga hissed, her thoughts far away from Severus. “It’ll be his fault and his fault alone, but he will probably blame anybody but himself!”

“It’s those friends,” Regulus sounded upset. “It’s those Mudblood-lovers Potter and Lupin and Pettigrew. They corrupted him, mom.”

Walburga had her hands in her face as if to keep her tears at bay.

“He’ll be back,” Regulus promised, definitely not convinced by his own words but it seemed like he was stuck like a broken recorder. “Once the Dark Lord wins, he will be back and we’ll be whole as a family again. Don’t cry, mom. Please. I’ll make sure we’ll get him back.”

Walburga grasped her son’s hand and pressed it. “Oh, Regulus. My dear beloved Regulus. What would I do without you?”

“I’ll go look for Lucius,” Severus announced. God, this was going to be an exhausting evening. There was nothing he’d learn from listening to those two. It was just all Black family drama with them.

Time to catch some Death Eater thoughts.

***

Finding Lucius turned out to be more difficult than Severus had anticipated. A lot of the women guests were drawn to Narcissa in her pretty white dress, but the men mostly stood around the room and held awkward conversations with some other poor sods they had never met in their lifetime. It had always gone beyond Severus why people would voluntarily object themselves to such tediousness regularly.
This was the fourth couple that engaged Severus in a conversation and disrupted his search for Lucius. They, too, balked once he told them about his blood status. Nothing of interest had cropped up in either the short exchanges or the stray thoughts he caught. The most curious of all had actually been a senile shopkeeper who had to be assisted by his bored-to-death French niece. The guy had been spouting snobbery, but his thoughts had revealed him to oppose the Dark Lord. Other than that … Severus had encountered the usual. It was difficult, too, to distinguish wishful thinking from actual knowledge. Some thought there’d be an attack on a certain location, but Severus doubted their position in the Dark Lord’s circle. From time to time, the other Slytherin boys would approach him to introduce him to their parents. In those instances, he felt like an exotic animal as they gawked at him. Probably because they hadn’t met a lot of Muggle-raised halfbloods before. Mulciber’s father even asked whether his home actually had a bathroom. Charming.
By now, he could finally spot Lucius through the crowd. The man wore a midnight-blue dress robe with silvery swirls. Lucius was engaged in conversation with a bald man in a black dress robe, who was facing away from Severus, as well as a young Bellatrix. The man looked familiar but at the same time, not at all. His face seemed too perfect with its symmetrical eyes, hump-free nose, defined cheek bones and even the ears had the same height.
“Lucius,” Severus greeted the man with the same functional bow as Narcissa, before offering another box with a small potion flask in it, “congratulations. I hope this connection between you and your fiancée will prosper in the upcoming years.”

“Ew, Snape.” Bellatrix sneered at him in her haughty way. “What is trash like him doing here, Lucius?”

“Thank you, Severus.” Lucius took the box without any sort of acknowledgement. Instead, he tried to usher him away as soon as possible. “Why don’t you join Evan and his family at the dining table?”

It didn’t sound like a suggestion at all, so Severus instantly knew he wanted to stay in this discussion.
“You’re too kind,” Severus replied with a forced smile that probably looked predatory if anything. His face wasn’t built for this. “I am not that familiar with the Rosiers, though. Maybe you can introduce me to them later.”

Lucius merely stared through him, his features tense. “Of course. Bella, if you would –“

“Are you for real, Lucius?” Bellatrix raised her arms in objection. “Are you for –“

Her shriek was cut off by the bald man to Lucius’ side. “The Rosiers are …. old friends. It would be my pleasure to … introduce your young friend, Lucius. We will talk later.” Somehow, the last part sounded more like a command than a suggestion.

Lucius held his arm behind his back. “Of course.” His eyes sought Severus’ and there was some deep discomfort in them. Before Severus could attempt a targeted read, the stranger grasped his arm and directed him towards the dining table.

Was he a Death Eater? Severus couldn’t remember his face at all. Maybe he died before Severus had joined. With that lack of hair, he definitely wasn’t a Malfoy. And he also didn’t seem to have that snotty-pointy look to the face that the Blacks inherited.

“That’s very kind of you, Mr … ?” he fished for a name.

The man didn’t even look at him as they strode towards the table. He was a bit taller than Severus, and broad-shouldered. His robes seemed almost too plain for these festivities, but they didn’t scream poor like Severus’. Instead, he had that I don’t need to dress up attitude around him.

“Snape,” the man suddenly said in that smooth tone where syllables glid into each other. Irish, maybe? Severus wasn’t sure, “that’s not a Pureblood name. I suppose that is why dear Bella is not a fan of yours.”

Anybody who called Bellatrix Lestrange a dear either was mental or straight up dangerous. “I am half.”

“But which half are you?”

He didn’t own this person an answer. He did not. “It’s disrespectful to ask someone for their blood status.”

That finally drew the man’s gaze at him. His eyes were dark like a tunnel without any light. Severus could feel the intrusion like a sharp knife cutting at his occlumency shield with the precision of an assassin. As sudden as the attack had overwhelmed him, it stopped.

“Talented,” the man commented, his right corner of the mouth curling upwards. “How did you know to shield before I even started?”

Severus had recognised the honed technique, the level of skill, the ease with which this man was wielding mind magic despite it not coming to him as natural as it did to Severus.
There was another person lurking under those fake features.
His heart was beating against his chest, trying to escape, just as Severus limbs began shaking uncontrollably. Only now did he notice that they had stopped in the middle of the room and they were facing each other. The Dark Lord stood in front of him almost casually with his hands in his robe pockets like the 30 year old someone he was impersonating. Not Polyjuice. Now that Severus was looking, properly looking … he could see it. A facial transformation. What a magic trick, what defiance in the face of the ministry’s strongarming.

“I am a natural occlumens,” Severus explained slowly, shakily.

“Huh.” The man put his head to the side in that snake-like way as he regarded Severus. Just as Nagini had done. “I received a gift from my magical side, too, Mr Snape.” Severus gulped. Was this his death sentence? Had the Dark Lord seen something despite his occlumency? Or why did he out himself to Severus as a half-blood? Severus remained rooted to the spot as if put in trance. “My family gift brought me friends, you see, when I had none.” The Dark Lord chuckled at the insider joke, not realising that Severus knew all too well that they were talking about Parseltongue. “Your gift, though … “ The man turned his dark eyes back on Severus. “It keeps you apart from those around you, as it puts a barrier between your emotions and other people. Curious. You must be quite ... lonely.”

“It keeps me safe, too. And nothing’s free in life,” Severus whispered. “We all have to pay the price for our talents one way or another.”

The Dark Lord held his gaze. There was no way to read his emotions either. He was occluding to Severus. “The Rosiers are over there. Go to them, Mr Snape. Tell them … Tom sent you.”

Severus stumbled over his own feet, barely catching himself in time, as he hurried away. He hated every second of it. Of having his back turned to that man.

***

Severus hadn’t dared to defy the Dark Lord, so he had approached the Rosiers (who hadn’t been all too keen on having him until he cited those magical words, and suddenly, they tried to include him in their family discussions). It was terribly uncomfortable to be seated next to Evan Rosier and Regulus Black who was mostly busy comforting his mother and praising the festivities.

There were two ways how this night could end. Severus could play nice and get out of this alive … or he could snoop around in people’s minds and risk attracting the Dark Lord’s attention.

Before he could make up his mind, Lucius and Narcissa were giving their welcoming speech at the head of the dining table. Severus’ eyes rested on the Dark Lord that was seated next to Lucius and Malfoy senior. The man was engaged in a lively discussion and even had his elbows on the table. He seemed all too comfortable with where he was and how people shyly glanced at him in awe.

“Does he often come to social gatherings like these?” Severus asked Evan quietly. “Even with the ministry watching the old families like a hawk?”

“You don’t really think the ministry’s any danger to him, do you?” Evan snorted. "He's here to show everyone that he’s there for us when the ministry’s going bonkers like they're doing right now.”

“Is he really there for you, though? The Dolohov family and Avery’s dad would probably have a different perspective on that.”

That got him an angry hiss from Evan. “Take care how you speak, mudblood.”

“It’s the ministry that’s behaving like a bunch of criminals,” Regulus chipped in from the side. “They’re coming to our houses and taking our things and taking our people. Even housewives and children!”

Severus didn’t reply. This wasn’t the right place to disagree on politics.
At the head of the table, Narcissa and Lucius were holding hands and then sat down gracefully as the room broke out in applause. Only the Dark Lord remained slouched on his seat.

The food was excellent, but Severus hardly noticed what he was putting into his mouth. Instead, he tried to make eye contact with random strangers down the table, only ever for a couple of seconds to sift through the blitzes of thoughts that crossed their minds.

Severus’ eyes rested on Regulus Black for a second longer before he let his eyes wander towards the other end of the table again. Suddenly, he saw a glass raised in his direction. He looked up towards the movement, only to be caught by the Dark Lord. The man had his head supported by his elbow that rested on the table. With the other hand, he held a glass of champagne, that he downed in one go.
Then, the Dark Lord stood up, and all the conversations at the table died down instantly.
“My friends,” the man said with a cool smile that didn’t reach his eyes, “it’s an honour to witness such a special connection between two old families. Your union shall be blessed, Lucius, Narcissa, in spirit, happiness, and duty to one another. I was wondering for a long time what I could get you two,” Lucius began a small toadying effort about not needing anything other than the man’s presence at his wedding, “yes, yes. I wish to contribute nonetheless. And I figured that a loyal and true man like you, Lucius, would appreciate this gesture more than any riches I could give you.” The Dark Lord put his hands into his trouser pockets, only to reveal … a leather-bound, plain-looking book. “To you, Lucius, I bequeath a valued part of me. This diary holds my thoughts that have led me to the person I have become. I want you to keep it, to treasure it as you treasure each other. With this, I accept your union and I will pledge to re-write this world in a way that will allow you and your future progeny to prosper.”
Lucius seemed a bit dumb-founded as he took the book offered to him, and the other guests clapped politely.

“Really,” Regulus said into Severus’ ear, “a book? He mustn’t value Lucius as much as he’s saying. Bellatrix got a much better gift for her wedding last month if you ask me.”

“What gift?” Severus’ eyes remained hungrily on the brown book in Lucius’ hands.

“A golden cup. Quite a magical thing, it would refill itself over and over with whatever you put into it.”

He couldn’t tear his eyes off the diary in Lucius’ hands. So the Dark Lord was spreading himself across his followers like an illness recently. Did he feel the ministry breathing down his neck? “What did Bellatrix do with it, Regulus?”

“I don’t know. It’s probably in the family vault with her other wedding trinkets. I mean … it was useful, but not really. You know?”

Bellatrix. Hufflepuff’s cup.
Severus’ mind was working in overdrive, just as his eyes caught Lucius leaving the dining hall, the diary under his arm.

“Where are you going?” Regulus asked.

“Toilet.” Severus pressed himself against the wall to avoid hitting the back of the chairs, as he trailed after Lucius. Behind him, he could hear the Dark Lord’s voice: “Ah, Walburga. What a pleasure to see you again. It has been some time, how is your husband doing? And this must be your son…”

Chapter Text

The guard at the reception table looked up only mildly interested from his book, as Severus left the dining hall. Some other guests were loitering in the foyer as well for a chat and a quick smoke, so nobody was paying him much attention.
Lucius was ahead of him, about ten metres. The man was going upstairs towards the private quarters of the manor.
If only he had his wand, Severus could cast a disillusionment charm! Potter’s cloak would be even more useful for such a stealth mission, but neither of those two options were in reach. Severus could try to snatch one of the wand boxes stored behind the inattentive guard, but it would definitely cause a commotion should he be caught.
The fact that the Malfoys had insisted on the guests handing in their wands was more than a mild inconvenience to Severus. He really would prefer a quick getaway once he stole that damn diary from wherever Lucius was taking it. His wand, though … his eyes trailed back to the guard at the desk with the deposited wands … yeah. No.

By now, Lucius was half-way up the stairs to the private quarters and about to disappear from Severus’ sight. Determined, he brushed past the guests in the foyer. The pipe smoke hung heavy in the entrance hall despite the high ceiling. Myrtle and mistletoe berries, Severus’ nose told him. How Christmassy.

Bits of discussions floated towards him, but he didn’t have the time to listen
I cannot believe I am saying this, but I actually think Dumbledore would have made the better Minister of Magic.
Laughter. Not something you would want to voice inside, my friend!
… There was a raid near King’s Cross this afternoon. My wife sent me a message to celebrate that there are now less Muggleborn to disgrace our society. Praise the Dark Lord!
Have you heard about poor Orion? Of course, his family isn’t saying anything, but this is the fourth time they made excuses for his absence. Rumour has it that he’s not fully there anymore. If you know what I mean.
Such a pity about the Dolohovs. I do wonder who will replace dear Antonin and his father at the Dark Lord’s side. Do you suppose our sons have a chance?

Severus dashed upstairs, mindful to stick close to the wall to stay under the portraits’ line of sight. The corridor on the first floor held several doors, all of them closed. Severus ducked, pulling his cloak hood up. He knew the layout of the house perfectly well. The first three doors harboured storage rooms for trinkets and a bathroom. No bedrooms so close to the stairs. Severus listened, but there were no feet shuffling behind those doors.
Where would Lucius take a present given to him by the Dark Lord? Even if the man thought it a mere diary, he would not dare throw it away. He’d keep it somewhere he could retrieve it easily should the Dark Lord ask him to do so as a test of some sorts.
Bedroom, maybe?

Severus snuck further down the corridor, ignoring the upset cries of “Intruder!” as the portraits spotted him. There was no way to dodge all of their gazes, because they now were hanging on both sides.
“Intruder!”
Draco’s future room. Narcissa’s future drawing chamber. Lucius’ office. Then the past Lady Malfoy’s bedroom where she had died … merely a couple of months ago, Severus realized. To him, it had always been a relict of a person long gone. A sentimental reminder Lucius had held onto even when he had become master of the manor.
“Intruder!”
The current Lord Malfoy’s bedroom. Then Severus passed a small door – the entrance to the kitchen. The private dining room next. And then … Lucius’ and Narcissa’s bedroom. Well, future bedroom. Severus put his ear to the door, but there was no sound. That left Lucius’ private library. Worth a try.

“Intruders!” the portrait on the other side (some white-haired ancestor) shouted above the general upset. “Intruders! Intruders!” Suddenly, a magical siren rang above Severus’ head, filling each corridor of the house.

Downstairs, there was some commotion and shuffling, probably as the portraits’ shouts had reached the ears of the alarmed people in the foyer. Damn it! As if that wasn’t bad enough, Severus could hear steps hurrying towards him from around the corner. Lucius! Hastily, he crashed into the bedroom next to him, shutting the door close with his heart beating harshly against his chest.
The room was pitch-black, with heavy curtains in front of the windows that faced the front garden. Severus had been in this room once: When Narcissa had given birth to Draco, he had been invited to greet the new the baby, and to offer his congratulations to Lucius. Well, and to feed Narcissa some pepper-up potion because it had been a torturously-long birth. Behind the curtains, there was a lovely balcony to hide on, he supposed. The one from which the Malfoys would observe their in-bred albino peacocks during Sunday morning brunch.
Too far, though. The feet outside were in such a hurry that there was no way he could cross the room in time. The portraits were shouting, too, their voices were too chaotic to understand anything, but they were probably giving away his hiding spot.
Severus let himself drop down in the hope of earning him a moment of surprise. Should the door open, he would be underneath Lucius – maybe he could grab the man’s legs, fight him to the ground and snatch the wand. If Lucius even had one. A gracious host did not disarm his guests and keep his own weapon.

The feet suddenly rushed past his door.
What the … ?

The portraits were still shouting, so why was Lucius not looking for him? Why was the man hurrying downstairs?
There were even more noises and voices, and the house alarm kept ringing. Finally, Severus found his inner daredevil again and opened the door, glancing into the corridor.

The shouting wasn’t just coming from the portraits – there were stray spells flying upwards from downstairs, and calls to surrender, and upset cries from the guests in the foyer and dining hall. Severus didn’t hesitate – he tore the door open, running into the opposite direction of where the Aurors were intruding and taking control of Malfoy Manor.

“Stop!” An authoritative voice called out to him from the stairs. “Stop right there!”

Severus jump-rolled around the corridor corner just as a Stupefy hit the space he had occupied a split-second ago.

“Under which orders are you intruding on a personal gathering like this?” Lucius’ voice boomed from downstairs, with other cries of injustice, discrimination and harsh threats filling the air.

Behind him, the Auror gave chase, so Severus scrambled to his feet, rushing towards the end of the corridor, just about jumping through the still-open door of the Malfoy library as another spell was aimed at him, this time a blasting spell.
This auror wasn’t kidding around.

Severus saved himself behind the second aisle, biting into his hand to hide his breathing.

“Come out with your hands up,” the auror demanded, throwing the library door shut behind him. “And I won’t kill you!”

Geez. How gracious.
Severus moved down the book aisle as he listened closely to the other footsteps, circumventing meeting the auror as he snuck around the corner just in time to avoid being spotted. It was a game of cat and mouse.

“I said: Come out with your hands up. This is just a search. No need to be afraid. Unless you have something to hide?”

Severus’ heart was beating as fast as a bullet train raced through the countryside, as if it wanted to jump out of his chest. He forced himself to slow down his movements, to not rush despite the panic welling up inside of him.
Master of body and mind. That’s what he had to be.
Severus kept track of the auror’s footsteps on the opposite side that suddenly stopped to change the direction in which they were circling the book aisle. With each round, Severus strove to get exactly to the same position as the auror.

Now or never.

He threw himself against the book case with all of his might, making the wooden construction tremble, but also raining down books on the auror on the other side.

“You fucking piece of shit!” the man cursed. “Protego! Protego!”

That was the opening Severus needed. He crashed his shoulder into the book case once again, making more books rain on the man, keeping the auror’s wand busy, as he skid around the corner to make use of the opening created.
The auror’s eyes were wide and panicky, he was barely more than a trainee going by his age. As planned, the man had his wand directed upwards instead of forward. Severus was sure to bore into those shocked eyes, tearing into the poor sod’s mind to bombard him with unpleasant memories while jumping towards him to snatch the wand out of the slackened hand.
For a moment, they both held onto the wood, with the man crying out in pain, holding his head with the other hand. Then, Severus swiped at the man’s legs, not letting go of the auror’s wand.

“Aaargh!”

The auror fell to the ground, hitting his head against the book aisle. As soon as the man made contact with the floor, his hand slackened, letting go of the wand.

“Stupefy!” Severus cast frantically at the already prone form of the auror. No reaction. The man remained unmoving and in that weird pose. A slow-moving trickle of blood made its way down his temple.

Severus remained standing over the man, his breathing heavy under the still-drawn hood of his robes. Only now did the ringing in his ear, the adrenaline, make way to allow him to notice the chaotic sounds from downstairs. There were noises of fighting and desperate cries.
Severus held onto the book aisle to righten himself up, holding onto the Auror’s wand tightly.

No rest for the wicked.
“Accio,” he whispered, “Tom Riddle’s diary.”

There was a soft flutter as the brown leather-clad thing jump-swooshed into his chest like a pushy pet. It felt warm to his touch. Inviting. As if it wanted him to adopt it. Severus trailed the cover, only reining in the urge to open it because there were multiple feet trampling towards the library door.

Run, his heart screamed.
Fight, his mind suggested.

Yeah, no thanks. Severus closed his eyes, imagining Hogsmeade. Destination. Determination. Deliberation. But nothing happened. Bloody aurors and their bloody anti-apparition wards! Of course, they wouldn’t want anyone to escape from the manor!

The steps drew closer. Severus frantically turned the auror’s wand towards the sturdy library door: “Colloportus!” He drew a giant X over the door, sealing it to his best ability just in time as the first angry shout from outside sounded out, then insistent knocks and spells hit the doorframe.

“Get Moody!” he heard. “Dawlish! If you can hear me, answer! Dawlish!”

Yeah, Dawlish definitely wasn’t in any condition to answer the door. The auror to his feet still didn’t show any signs of life. Severus didn’t know the guy and he didn’t care, but … his eyes swept towards the door, then the unlit fireplace at the other end of the room, before he fell to his knees and checked for a pulse.
Okay, so he hadn’t accidentally murdered the guy.
Good to know.

Alright. So, he was trapped in an Auror raid, had resisted arrest, assaulted an Auror and stolen a wand to perform underaged magic, and he was currently in possession of a dark artefact.
Moody would probably not believe him if Severus opened the door now and claimed that he had been walking around the manor when he found Dawlish like that.
Yeah. There was no way he could surrender. They’d ship him off to Azkaban.

Fireplace it was. Hogwarts would be completely sealed off, so Diagon or Hogsmeade.

“What’s going on here?” Severus recognised Moody’s gruff voice on the other side of the library door.

“It’s sealed!”
“Then blast it away!”
“But, Sir! The search warrant doesn’t allow for property damage, and I can’t have any more of my pay docked if I want to feed my family! This is the third time this month that people are resisting arrest!”
“Do I have to do everything around here myself?!”

Severus ran for his life towards the fireplace, casting “Incendio!” mid-jump, just as the library door was blasted out of the hinges. He grabbed some floo powder, throwing it into the flames and turning the fireplace into a green hell, illuminating him from the front.

“Stupefy!”

Moody’s curse raced towards him, just as he threw up a protective shield. Their gaze met, and Severus knew from Moody’s widening eyes that the hood hadn’t managed to cover up his identity. “You’re the boy from Diagon!”
Two more aurors rushed inside and had their wands trained on Severus.

The fireplace was still lit green.
Severus clutched the diary against his chest. Stalemate.
This one he’d lose. No doubt about that.
Throw the diary into the fire? Maybe his only option. He had been rendered powerless by Moody and his ilk.

The gruff Auror raised his foot as if to draw closer. “Easy,” the man said through his yellow teeth. “Down with the wand, boy. And nothing will happen to you. You’re still a kid. Got some years in front of you, right?”

“You first,” Severus demanded to buy himself time to ponder on his options. “Put your wand down first.”

Moody’s smile was more of a grimace. “I am looking forward to Albus’ face. I told him you were bad news. Shouldn’t have shown you any leniency. The criminal’s just in you. I saw it in your eyes when I had you in my interrogation room.”

“Sir. We should probably follow protocol and secure the fireplace first, and –“

“You heard my subordinate. Away from the fireplace. Now, boy.”

Severus still held onto the diary. There was a good chance Moody would throw an Unforgivable at him. Probably not the killing curse, but … the other ones wouldn’t be above the man. Severus could see the unease in the other aurors’ eyes. They also smelled Moody’s thirst for a fight.

“We’re not here for you, kid” the second-oldest Auror suddenly said in a placating tone, actually lowering his wand. “We’re only doing a routine inspection. Let us take you downstairs to your family and friends, alright? Nothing bad is going to happen to you. We will note down your contact details, and we do a body-search, and then you can go home. The intruder alarm must have scared you, so you ran upstairs and defended yourself against Dawlish. I get it. Self-defence isn’t a crime. Just comply and put down the wand, and we’re golden.”

“Look at Dawlish,” Moody growled. “Raise your bloody wand again, this boy is dangerous. He’s not some idiot who got accidentally involved in this! He expertly took him down!”

The other Auror hesitated, then he resisted Moody’s command. He even put his wand back into his holster and raised his empty hands to show that he wasn’t any threat to Severus.
Not that Severus cared. He was busy studying the green flames next to him from the corner of his eyes. They were slowly dying down, as the floo powder was absorbed. Only a couple of seconds left until his last chance at an escape disappeared.

The second Auror behind Moody seemed rather nervous, but he also loosened his grip onto his wand. As if he considered following his colleague’s example. But there was no hesitation in Moody’s stance.
Severus could probably try to invade the man’s mind, but there was a good chance Moody would fend off the attack. Unlike with Dawlish, there were two more opponents in the room, too. They’d defend their leader. It was unlikey he’d have an opening large enough to jump into the fireplace and call out his destination before he’d be cursed.

“Wand down. Last chance, boy. Else, we will get serious.” Moody swished his wand in a threat.

“I didn’t do anything,” Severus bluffed, talking to buy himself even more time. “I am a guest, I came here to celebrate my friend’s engagement. You’re threatening a minor!”

“Always quick to cite your rights,” Moody growled. “I remember how you weaseled out of the consequences of your actions last time, too. Enough. You’re done, kid. PUT. YOUR WAND. DOWN.”

Severus exhaled. He loosened his hold on Dawlish’s wand and changed his hand position into an open palm as if to offer the Aurors the wand as a present.

“Finally. Black. Take it.”

Severus frowned at the name, but then he noticed that the Auror who had ignored Moody’s orders first strode towards him with a reassuring artificial smile. Just as he was about to reach Severus, his lips formed an O before he crumbled to the ground.

“Alphard?” the other Auror cried confused, just as Moody shouted at Severus: “What did you do, you menace?”

Severus just shook his head, taking one step back and hitting the fireplace. “I didn’t do anything! He just –“

The second Auror suddenly gasped, also dropping to the ground. Unmoving.

Moody was white as a sheet as he twirled around, taking a proper fighting stance now. His lips were moving, casting a myriad of defensive shield spells, and a Revelio whose blue lights shimmered through the room, not showing any other silhouette. Then, Moody turned back to Severus, putting his wand right into his face. “Are you screwing with me, boy? I’ve had enough with you!”

“I didn’t do anything!” Severus shouted, gripping the diary even harder. “You were looking right at me! You would have noticed me casting silently!”

Moody’s eyes were burning with fury and, yes, fear. He kept looking around, his wand now wavering from Severus.

“Show yourself!”

Nothing.

The green flames in the fireplace were almost gone. If Severus was to jump in, he’d definitely burn himself by now. Severus raised his wand towards the room, at the gap between the two crumbled Aurors who lay on the ground petrified.
Foe or ally?
Based on his luck … he did not expect a friend.
Then, he saw the spell exploding from the middle of the room, out of thin air, and it hurled towards Moody’s back.

“Protego!” he shouted, drawing Moody’s surprised eyes on him. Another spell followed, this time the Auror jumped behind a book aisle to save himself.
“Stupefy!” Severus cast into the general direction of the invisible enemy, but the spell sizzled across the room without hitting anyone. Then, Severus felt a hard push against his front, catapulting him into the fireplace.
The flames licked at his clothes, burnt on his skin as a pained voice above him shouted out a direction: “12 Grimmauld Place!”

The world disappeared from their view, with Moody’s ashen face staring right at Severus’.

***

As soon as the fireplace spit him out, Severus rolled himself over his invisible attacker, and found himself in a close-up brawl, with a fist hitting him in the jaw and shoulder, but Severus was raised in the gutter of Spinner’s End – this wasn’t his first fight. He gave as good as he got, pushing against the invisible body until the cloak came lose.

Severus breathed heavily as he remained lying on his side on the floor of the Black family’s living room. His wand tip pressed into Sirius Black’s chest, and his other hand still clawed into the boy’s shoulder. The diary lay forgotten on the ground. Pain was etched into Black’s face, and fury had coloured his eyes pitch-black. His wand also rested against Severus’ chest as if they were violent mirror images of each other.

The living room of Grimmauld Place lay deserted, with no candles to light the room other than the dying-down flames in the fireplace. No portraits on the wall, only family pictures with moving but not sentient people, repeating their actions over and over again. Each picture had a burn hole in it and only depicted the good son. Regulus.

“You followed us to Malfoy Manor,” Severus pressed out between his smarting lips from one of the blows they had traded. “You were there from the very beginning, weren’t you? When we took the Portkey in Slughorn’s office. That’s why you weren’t at the train station with Potter.”

Black’s chest was heaving from the adrenaline coursing through his body. “I promised you, didn’t I?” I told you I’d destroy you, Snape. You and all the other dark wizards!”

“You called the aurors on the manor.” Severus felt blood between his teeth. He had bitten through the inner side of his mouth when he had been hit in the face. “You did that!”

Black remained silent, staring right at Severus with all the hatred he could muster.

“Why attack the Aurors, then?” Severus shook his head, ignoring how Black’s wand pressed further into his chest. “You almost got your wish. They almost killed me!”

“I need you to fix this.” Black’s wand tip was trembling as it bore into Severus’ chest where his heart lay. “You need to help me fix this!”

“Fix what?” Severus drew back, not lowering his wand for a minute. He pulled himself up on an armchair, ignoring his smarting limbs and the stench of singed clothes from the fire.

“You need to fix this!” Black jumped to his feet and grabbed Severus at the collar, shouting right into his face. “You have to do as I say!”

“FIX WHAT?”
Snape pushed back, but Black didn’t let go. His hands trembled like they had done during his days as an alcoholic recluse at the headquarters of the Order.

There were tears streaking down Black’s face now, and somehow, this was what frightened Severus the most. He had never seen the other man cry. Not during any of their teenage scuffles with embarrassing and painful outcomes. Not when Black had been recaptured and imprisoned at Hogwarts to await the dementor’s arrival following Pettigrew’s escape. Not when Dumbledore put him into Grimmauld Place to hide him away like a dirty secret.
No. Black would always laugh at people, laugh as if to spite, to show that nothing and nobody held any power over him.
Those tears … they scared Severus more than the crazed look in Black’s eyes.

“I didn’t know … I … They took him!” Black turned his head away to throw up next to the armchair. The stench of bile filled the room, making Severus’ stomach churn. “He chose Reg, he … I couldn’t stop it. I … the mark … I had already called the Aurors … I couldn’t stop … if I had shown myself, I … They took him, Snape. They took Reg!”

“The Dark Lord marked Regulus,” Severus repeated slowly. “Didn’t he? While I was upstairs.” And then the raid happened.

“You need to fix this!” Black screamed into his face. His hair was hanging into his eyes. “You need to –“

“How?” Severus replied angrily and just as loud. “How am I supposed to change anything about this? You’re crazy! Why should I even help you? We’re not friends!”

“But you’re the only one left!” Black hit his fist against the living room wall, so that some of the family pictures clattered. “You were upstairs and Narcissa and mom, they are in custody, and the real Death Eaters managed to escape anyway with You-Know-Who’s help, and they want to punish the ones they actually apprehended as revenge for getting upstaged like that and … we don’t have time! I heard them! They’re taking the marked ones straight to Azkaban to be kissed! We need to save Reg NOW!”

Severus didn’t even notice that he was shaking his head subconsciously. “That’s madness,” he whispered. “Utter madness, Black. There’s nothing we can do to save your brother if he is marked! You know the law!”

“So what? My family does mad things best.” Black’s face was ashen as he trained his wand at Severus’ chest again. “We need to get to Azkaban to save Reg!”

Severus found himself stepping even further back until he hit the armchair and almost fell into it. “Yeah, no! You don’t get out of Azkaban, Black. And this has nothing to do with me anyway. Your brother made his decision, and he has to live with the consequen-“

“If you help me,” Black said, his eyes still crazed, “I will tell Dumbledore we were working together to bust the Malfoys. You’re fucked without me, aren’t you? Those aurors definitely had it out for you, and rightly so, if you ask me. But I am going to save your skin if you help me save my brother!”

Severus slowly blinked.
“Blackmail. What a Slytherin kind of deal,” he stated, enjoying how Black flinched and narrowed his eyes in anger.

“I can’t –“ Black cradled his stomach. “I don’t know how to do this. I don’t … I can’t … I need to save Regulus! If he dies … I … I just wanted to keep him from getting marked! There were rumours … rumours that You-Know-Who is recruiting left, right and centre because his followers keep dying like flies, and … this wasn’t the plan! This wasn’t the plan!”

“So you called the aurors on the Malfoy party to keep your brother from getting marked,” Severus summed up dryly. “Only to have him sentenced to death yourself. Brilliant, Black. As always, you really think things through.”

“Shut up, Snape!” the other teenager growled, now walking up and down like a caged tiger. “Shut up, shut up, shut up!”

“Black. I know we’re not friends. But listen. Listen!” Severus grabbed the man’s arm to stop him from walking in circles like a mad person. “Nobody ever gets out of Azkaban.”

“I know! I fucking know! But we have to! You have to!” Black’s shoulders were trembling and he looked at Severus like a predator. “You will find yourself in Azkaban whether you help me or not! So, Snape. What will it be?”

“I guess,” Severus said with a heavy heart. Dawlish’s wand felt dirty in his hands, “nobody tried to break into Azkaban before. That might be more doable than getting out.”

Severus really hated Christmas.

“Swear it, Black,” he demanded. “With the Unbreakable Vow. Swear that you will lie for me if I get your brother out unkissed.”

Black grimly reached out his wand hand, shaking on their deal, as the green embers twirled around their joined fingers, sealing their promises as they swore the oath.

Not for one second did Severus’ gaze stray from Black. There was no trust between them. Only necessary evil.

Chapter Text

As soon as the magic of the Unbreakable Vow had taken hold and disappeared into their skin, they had dropped each other’s hands like somebody fearing to contract an infectious disease.
Severus‘ every limb felt heavy, as the night was dragging on. By now, it had to be around 10 pm. The clock on the mantlepiece above the fireplace was ticking loudly and the pressure of time weighed on his shoulders.
About a quarter of an hour since the Malfoy Manor raid. How long would the ministry need to check all of the captives’ arms and transport the Death Eaters to Azkaban? Would they have brought a portkey in advance or would they have to take them to the ministry first?

When the Wizengamot had passed the new dementor law, the Daily Prophet had had a centrepiece about the execution procedure to assure the population about how humane everything would be. There was a white room in Azkaban in which the prisoners were led and secured to a chair. After the sentence was read to them and their last words noted down for their relatives, they were put into a magical slumber, and then all Aurors cleared the room. Only then did the dementors, one for each prisoner, enter.

Their best bet was to either grab Regulus before he was put into the chamber (which would definitely mean they’d have to fight the guards), or to wait out that specific moment in which the prisoners were alone in the execution chamber.
Either way, their timing was critical.

“Grab two backpacks from upstairs,” Severus told Black. “And be quick.”

“My father could wake up –“

“Stupefy him for all I care.”

Black glared at him before raising his wand and rushing upstairs. This left Severus with his old memories of Azkaban while he anxiously waited for the other boy’s return.
After the Dark Lord had fallen, he had spent two days in prison himself before Dumbledore had finally managed to secure a pardon from the Wizengamot. That was the problem with spying. It usually made all sides rather weary of your allegiance and for all evidence proving your loyalty, there was just as much counter-evidence and testimony. Otherwise you wouldn’t have survived being a spy in the first place.
It had been a close call and without Dumbledore, he’d have been done for. Whenever a Death Eater had named him during their trials in the following year, Severus would still fear that the Auror department would once again knock on the door to the potions classroom.
That’s where they had taken him the first time. In front of the students. With no explanation whatsoever.
That’s also why Severus knew exactly how the ministry operated. What Regulus and the other Death Eaters were experiencing in this second. They would be side-apparated by an Auror to a beach, their hands tied together with unbreakable rope that loped around their feet as well, forcing one to take very small steps. There would be an Auror for each prisoner. The prisoners would then be forced into a small boat, all facing forward, so that they would see how Azkaban came closer and closer as they rowed towards it.
The weather would be harsh, as it usually was in the North Sea, with waves throwing the boat to all sides and the wind cutting into their unprotected faces. While the prisoners rowed themselves into their own doom, the Aurors would stand behind them, wands ready to counter any attempts of resistance. Severus had never met a pureblood that was proficient at swimming. As Avery had put it himself during the trip to the pool in the summer holidays: They had magic to keep themselves afloat. The prisoners would look down into the muddy water, and nobody would consider throwing themselves off the boat unless it was to drown on purpose.
Severus could imagine Regulus in one of those tiny rowing boats, shaking all over, maybe with a black eye from the rough treatment Aurors gave criminals.
It took about 20 minutes to make the way from the beach to the small island off the coast that housed the gloomy prison tower.

Severus paced in the Black living room, feeling every minute that passed by.
I, Severus Tobias Snape Black had snorted at his full name, swear solemnly to do everything in my might to rescue Regulus Arcturus Black from Azkaban.

He wasn’t ready to die just yet. Black better hurry up, or Severus would leave without him.
Severus rubbed his wrist although there was no trace of the ancient magic left for the visible eye.

Finally, Black returned, his face still tear-stained but he seemed to have gotten hold of his emotions. Severus caught the backpack despite the fact that it was thrown into his arms with enough anger to make him take a step back.

“What’s next?” Black asked urgently. “How do we get to Azkaban?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
Black sneered. “Thought you might have checked out your future accommodations.”
“Between the two of us, you’re the one who –“ Severus stopped himself mid-sentence. Then he turned away to pace the living room to prevent himself from snapping at the teenager. Instead, he put the anger into each step he took, striding around with tempo. The fireplace was still burning, and it made Severus all the more aware that it was only a matter of time until the Aurors showed up on the doorsteps of Grimmauld Place.
“The floo connection is name-locked, I presume?”
“Whatever gave you that impression?” Black mocked. “The lack of furious Aurors coming after us?”

The Aurors would probably first take care of their captives, but Moody was like an attack dog. Trained not to let go once he took a bite out of someone.

“We mustn’t come back here,” Severus declared. “This place is compromised. Once we grab your brother, we need a safehouse –“

“No place in this bloody country is safe,” Black snarled. “Your Death Eater friends make sure that nobody can feel safe anywhere!”

“Where do you want to stow away your brother then?” Severus challenged Black. “Because I don’t think the Shrieking Shack will cut it in the long run!”

Black put his hands through his hair, tearing at the strands with force. “I don’t care! Let’s grab him and see what happens!”

Geez. Severus sure loved the idea of rushing into Azkaban without any plan whatsoever. He closed his eyes. Nagini’s circus up in Edinburgh? They sure had been open to oddballs and were probably just the right sort of shady to offer sanctuary to someone running from the ministry. On the other hand, they might mistrust Severus after Nagini hadn’t returned to their side. Scamander? He had that magical suitcase to hide away a person but the man was loyal to Dumbledore. Too much of a risk. Severus’ home was probably compromised, too. If Moody was looking for him, he would have stationed an Auror in Spinner’s End just to be safe. Lily’s place was out for the same reason. And Mary’s mom deserved better than to be dragged into his mess. The Riddle Manor? Nah. Never return to your crime scene. First rule of rule-breaking.
The Shrieking Shack might work for a night or two, but there was no heating, and any use of magic would be dangerous. Same issue with the Dark Forest. Besides, Regulus Black didn’t seem the type to do well on a magic-free camping trip.
There was no alternative. They would need to get Regulus out of the ministry’s jurisdiction. The continent, it was.

“Does your brother speak French?” he blurted out. Black looked at him as if he had lost his marbles. Probably because of his pacing and randomness. “Does he?”

“What does it matter?” Black kicked the wall, causing one of the family portraits to crash onto the floor. With its shattered frame, the inhabitants were protesting and shouting abuse at them. “You’re so useless, Snape why did I even bother with you!” Black kicked the wall again and again, tearing at his hair. “I should have just gone to James and -! But he wouldn’t have understood! Snape, please! We need to go to the ministry now and follow –! We can use James’ cloak, I guess, and -”

“I already have a plan, you dolt,” Severus snarled.

“What plan?” Black was alert now, staring at him like a hungry wolf. “What’s the plan?”

“Does. Your brother. Speak French?”

Black put his arms into the air. “Yeah, probably, whatever! What’s the plan?”

“Remember,” Severus stated slowly, “you asked for my help. It may sound a bit … crazy … but hear me out: …”

***

The plan was simple. Severus didn’t get why Black had such an issue with understanding the logistics.
Apparate right into the North Sea shortly before Azkaban’s no-apparition barrier around the prison island, swim ashore assisted by the wave directions which always go in-land, grab Regulus, swim out against the wave direction until they had passed the barrier again, then apparate to France without splinching themselves. Chuck Regulus somewhere where he would be safe, get to Calais, stow away on a ferry and once they were back in the UK, they’d have to make their way back to Hogwarts without any magic, so that the ministry couldn’t retrace their starting point to find Regulus.
Black hadn’t been a fan of any of it. He simply couldn’t appreciate Severus’ genius.

“I can’t swim,” the guy had dared to object as if Severus actually cared.

“Then paddle in your dog form.”

“How do you even know -! Regulus can’t swim either!”

“Well, he doesn’t have to keep his head above water as long as he makes it outside the bloody barrier. The rest is your problem, not mine.” After all, the vow explicitly stated Severus only had to get Regulus out of Azkaban. Once the kid touched the water, his side of the deal was fulfilled.

“If it’s so easy to get to the island, why has nobody ever broken someone out of Azkaban?” Black had dared to question his idea.

“When have wizards ever thought about Muggle means like swimming to counter magic? Besides, you better hope I am right. This is the only way we’re getting there on time. By now, the prisoners will have rowed already halfway to the island. We’re too late to follow them.”
That had shut up Black instantly.

***

Severus shrugged off his festive robe until he stood only in his thin black trousers and white dress shirt, then he threw the garment into the fireplace and watched the flames lick at it. What a waste, but there was no way he could carry it with him. The space in the backpack was too precious. Finally, he chucked off his shoes and tucked his trouser hems inside his socks. Black was eyeing him as if he were crazy.

“Strip,” Severus demanded.

“Utterly romantic. And here I thought your face was already doing it for me.”

“Be my guest, Black, and drown because your uniform soaks up too much water.”

Black reluctantly stepped out of his school robe to reveal some swanky Muggle rock band shirt and some jeans with holes. Not the kind of holes that Severus’ clothes tended to have. More the sort that you paid extra for at the clothes store.
Severus stashed his shoes into the backpack alongside a bottle of water from the table. Then he cast a spell at the bag to reduce the weight. Dawlish’s wand was working well enough for him. Still, he would need to lose it before getting back to Hogwarts. Not a great idea to carry around evidence of his crimes. Would the Aurors return his mother’s wand to him, anyway? It wasn’t registered to him, after all.
Well, at least the ministry couldn’t snap his wand if he didn’t even own one.

“Is that your diary? Cute, Snape. Cute.”

Severus looked up. Black held the diary between two fingers, one eyebrow raised. Instinctively, Severus made a grab for it. “Give that to me!”

Black and he both tore at it until the other boy gave in. Severus turned his back to Black, sure to cradle the diary against his chest. His heart was beating fast.

“If you touch my stuff again,” he warned and meant every word of it, “I will out Lupin as a werewolf. Are we clear?”

“Dumbledore’s going to expel you!”

“Aren’t you always claiming that I have certain job opportunities elsewhere?” Severus mocked with a dark smirk that neither reached his face nor his heart.

“If you hurt my friends, Snape –“

“Don’t touch my stuff, Black.”

They glared at each other before Severus stuffed the diary into his backpack, the pages welling from the pressure as there was barely any room left.
It hurt to let it go.
Subconsciously, he knew that it was magic that was compelling him to open the diary. There wasn’t a voice or ghost-like figure like with the diadem or the ring. Just a feeling in his chest. It made him want to open the diary. Something told him that if he could just see his thoughts written out, then maybe he could get another perspective, see things from a new angle. Like a friend who would give you advice when you were otherwise alone and without anyone you could trust.
His fingertips tingled from touching the leather cover that feel slightly warm. As if the book had a small pulse that vibrated down to his core and resonated with his own heart. He felt lighter. Comforted.
Not yet, he promised the diary. Later.
The impulse faded.
Dangerous. Not something that should be touched with bare hands again.
Severus hastily closed the backpack, spelled it waterproof and made it light as a feather.

***

The North Sea was even colder than Severus had expected, and he found himself sucking in a mouthful of sea water despite his brain shouting at him to swim. His first movements were jerky, and he shrugged off Black’s hand from his shoulder that was pushing him down as the other teenager began flailing amidst the waves.

“Transform already, you mutt!” he shouted, fighting to stay on the surface, his clothes now fully dragging him down into the murky water. The night sky above them was littered in stars, and waves crashed over them, and damn, there was no ground under them to find a moment of relief.

Swim!
Swim!
Swim already!

Finally, the splashing on his side that had further pushed salt water into his face calmed down with an animal whine filling the freezing night air. Every couple of strokes, Severus’ hand touched the paws next to him.
There was nothing but silence and their heavy, laboured breaths to be heard. A couple of minutes into their struggle not to drown from the shocking temperature drop, Severus’ eyes became accustomed to the darkness, and yes, they were about twenty meters away from the shores of Azkaban. The silhouette of the grim tower loomed above them, with hundreds of tiny barred windows hiding away the fates of the living dead in those cells.

“That way!” Severus regretted opening his mouth as the salt water made him gag.

Occasionally, the waves would sweep over their heads, pressing them under, and Severus had to fight his way back up to the surface with powerful leg strokes. Mr Allister, his old swimming teacher from elementary school, would be so proud of him. With each stroke forward, he felt as if he was losing control over his own limbs. The short distance was taking its toll, and in the darkness, it didn’t even look as if they were drawing closer at all.
As they passed the anti-apparition barrier, Severus’ lungs seemed to be about to burst from exhaustion. If they were to drown now, if they couldn’t go on … there’d be no way to escape this watery grave. Before, they could have aborted the mission. Apparated back. Now … they were captives of Azkaban, too.
Dog-Black surpassed him, paddling furiously towards the small island.

***

Severus let himself fall onto his knees as soon as he had dragged his body up on the rocky shore. He lowered his face into the ground, letting his eyes rest for a second. The dog next to him turned human again, and Severus had to force himself into action.

“No magic!” He slapped Black’s hand away from the bag and received a violent push backwards in return.

“Don’t touch me, Snivellus!”

“Shut up! Do you want to attract the guards?”

Black’s back stiffened, then he ducked down. There was no light, only the stars and the pale moon above them. Every step that Severus took sounded like a wet plop. His clothes, heavy from the water, were hanging down on him. Severus had no control over his teeth clicking against each other as his whole body was trembling from the cold. Black didn’t seem to fare any better. If the lighting was better, Severus was sure their lips would be ice-blue.

They had washed ashore on the opposite side to the landing beach and entrance. Those bloody windows, though, already offered them a myriad of groans and cries of despair from inside. Black seemed anxious and each wail made him wince.
What a pussy. How did the guy survive Azkaban if he was a scaredy-cat like that?

There was no path, only hard stones cutting into his wet socks and feet, as they circled the prison tower, always pressing their backs to the stone walls to reduce their visibility. Soon, they could hear voices, and fog began setting on them, their breaths puffing up traitorously.

Severus instinctively shielded his thoughts and emotions, further reducing his presence by dropping onto his knees. Black, however, hadn’t gotten the idea that the dementors were close. He remained upright, paralysed, his eyes moving from left to right and back, definitely caught in a bad memory as his lips formed words without voicing them.
“Black,” he whispered harshly but the other boy ignored him. Instead, Black stepped forward towards the group of guards with their lit wands that were unloading two prisoners from the rowing boat.
Severus grabbed Black around the chest, dragging him back, whilst muffling Black’s choice of words by putting his elbow around the other’s mouth. Then a set of teeth buried itself into his flesh. Severus bore down on the pain, sure to keep Black next to him whilst the group of Aurors, dementors and prisoners moved towards the entrance and inside the tower.
One of the prisoners was tall and bulky, the other one resembled a drowned, scared rat.
“Please,” the younger one pled with the Aurors, “please, I am underaged. I didn’t do anything! I never did anything! Please, I just want to talk to my mom!”
“Move!” The boy received a kick from behind, making him crash onto the floor as the shackles didn’t allow him to catch his fall. Then the other Auror rightened him up again, gesturing Regulus to move forward.

“Reg,” Black whispered past Severus’ elbow that his teeth had buried themselves into, “Reg, Reg, Reg … “

The group was now halfway inside, with two dementors on the sides and one Auror at the end who had illuminated his wand.
Severus slowly dragged Black to the ground, still keeping him locked in place, as they remained in the shadows and let the group of prisoners pass their hiding spot near the entrance.
That was the thing about relying on light. It made the darkness even darker. The Aurors did not spot them, only the dementors seemed to pause for a second before the Auror in the back herded them inside again, too. Those gaping doors remained open – a perpetual mocking reminder that nobody ever escaped Azkaban.

“We should have attacked … it was two against three … four if the other Death Eater had joined … “

“Stop whining,” Severus said into Black’s ear from behind the other boy, still not letting go for fear of the idiot running after the group. “This is good.”

“What about this situation is good? Pray tell, Snape.” Black turned his head around, not even acknowledging how they were practically hugging each other, as starved for warmth as they were in their drenched clothes.

“He’s alive. We’re alive.”

“You really need to set your standards a bit higher.”

Severus clenched his fist, but he couldn’t even feel his fingertips since their swim.
“We need to follow them or we’ll never find the execution chamber in time.”

Black made to get up, bit his foot slipped. It probably had fallen asleep just like Severus’. The teenager groaned in anger, then he forced himself into an upright position, still holding onto the outer wall of the prison. “Alright. Do we blast Regulus free? Two Aurors should be doable.”

Severus grimaced as he stood up as well, combating his shaking knees. A helping hand would have been nice, but that was not something he expected from his, well, companion.
In truth, he wouldn’t have offered Black a hand either.

“The dementors noticed us.”

“So?”

“You need to suppress your feelings, else we won’t be able to move freely through the corridors.”

Black barked harshly into his ear. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You haven’t been taught Occlumency?” Severus frowned. “In all honesty, how did you survive –“ He stopped himself again.
Yes. How had Black survived Azkaban with his mind intact anyway? He couldn’t have been the first innocent guy thrown into a cell, so why him? Severus refused to believe that it had been Black’s awesomeness that had kept him from being affected by the dementors.
Why him?

Severus groaned. “You’re such a mutt.”

“Are you trying to pick a fight with me now?”

“No, you idiot!” Snape poked his finger into Black’s chest. “You. Transform. That way, the dementors won’t notice us when we slip inside. And give me the damn cloak already!”

“Animals do have feelings, I’ll have you know!”

“I don’t care! Just do it! We’re losing them!”

After Severus disappeared under Potter’s cloak, the Gryffindor metamorphosed into a shaggy black dog that snapped at Severus before jumping ahead. The small backpack made him look like a rescue dog. Severus had seen one of those Saint Bernhard ones with tiny medical kits before. He couldn’t place it – must have been in one of those documentaries his father sometimes watched while feeling utterly sorry for himself.

Severus was extremely jealous of the ease with which the dog shook the excess water off its body, then it padded up into the darkness that was the interior of the prison.
“Once again into the fold,” he mumbled before stumbling after the animal, his hand always looking for parts of the walls to cling onto. The presence of the dementors felt overwhelming, even behind his Occlumency shields. There was fog inside the tower, and none of the torches on the walls were lit. The sounds of human wailing muffled by two inches of steel were everywhere. The footsteps of the Aurors and their talking carried through the corridors of closed doors.
On the ground level, there were four dementors floating around near the empty checkpoint. The guard’s desk still had a lit candle and a crossword puzzle with only three unsolved gaps. Severus pulled the Invisibility Cloak closer around himself. The dementors’ wispy bodies twisted and turned, and dog-Black’s hair was standing up like a cat’s would do. The idiot was even growling. However, the dementors ignored him.
Huh.
Maybe they actually couldn’t see the dog.
Maybe that was how Black had left Azkaban the first time around. He had just … walked out on four legs instead of two.