Chapter Text
In the semi-darkness that enveloped Hogwarts in the early evening, a faint blob of light half-raced, half-floated its way through the castle’s corridors, cantering at every twist and turn then darting down the moving staircases here and there.
There was no visible danger in sight, either around or in active pursuit of it, though its harried pace implied differently. It did not stop, not even for a moment, ignoring the scant residents it passed by–be they people, ghosts, or otherwise–until it reached the dungeons.
From there, the luminous, intangible form hurtled across the wall directly into the Slytherin Common Room.
During the day, it might not have attracted much attention, for the sun rays filtered through the greenish waters of the Black Lake outside the room’s arched windows and painted the space with an ethereal glow, granting it a distracting unearthliness of its own. As it was, though, a moonless evening offered naught but pitch-black darkness from outside. Amidst the warm orange candle and firelight, the opalescence was bound to draw attention.
Although usually an emotionally guarded crowd, little gasps here and there could be heard as the light ball zigzagged around the students, the incident unusual enough to stir their curiosity.
“It’s a patronus!” one such student shouted, and despite the sneers and disinterested façades, the gazes of the dorm inhabitants remained trained on the little creature in an attempt to devise both its purpose and its destination. After all, gossip was a powerful tool in their circle, something one was better served by having in their arsenal–to be dropped in conversation with casual precision for the furthering of one’s agenda–than being unaware of and therefore its unsuspecting victim.
No larger than a small dog, but perhaps more akin to a cat, though stouter, with shorter legs and a much longer tail, the patronus clambered up and over the back of the emerald velvet chaises with some difficulty, then balanced precariously atop a self-playing harp nearby. It turned its head this way and that, emitting little whining noises as its round eyes scanned all around for its intended target.
The otter, for that was what the little wispy white creature was, left an eerie fading trail in its path as it lept from the instrument and bounded towards one of the desks pushed against the far wall of the Common Room.
There, it stopped before none other than Severus Tobias Snape.
The sixth-year boy stood from his chair, his second-hand textbook lying open on the desk but abandoned in the ruckus. He hid the shock at the impromptu visitor with all the solemnness he could muster and steeled himself. Calls of him being a dementor–what, with his skinny figure, deathlike paleness, and dark, bottomless eyes–wouldn’t be far behind.
In fact, Severus wouldn’t be surprised if this constituted another of Potter and Black’s degrading schemes, as their antics sought to humiliate him at every opportunity. It was par for the course that they would find a way to do so even in absentia.
When the creature opened its mouth, however, it was not Potter’s uninventive insults or Black’s pesky little taunts that came out, but a girl’s voice.
Hermione’s, to be precise.
“It’s time. He’s making me leave.”
The message’s content amounted to just that–two sentences, which put together didn’t total ten words. The phantom animal provided no more detail or explanation before fading into nothingness, yet their meaning was quite clear, and so was Hermione's tone–she wasn’t being given a choice.
Severus’ fisted hands were the only outward display of emotion he dared exhibit before the audience that observed him, and even that much was only because he couldn’t refrain from it. He stalked across the room with as much grace as his long wiry limbs allowed, which was hardly any, his fingers itching to draw his wand.
When the stone entrance to the Slytherin dorms shut behind him, effectively distancing him from his peers, Severus ran.