Apocalypse

Apocalypse

Prologue

Ten-year-old Severus Snape had never been one to back down from a challenge. And this time wouldn't be any different.

"Slimey git, that's all you are. You think you're so tough? You're just as skinny as a rail," the older boy taunted.

Severus stood his ground firmly against the much larger and stronger Michael Swartz, a blond-haired thirteen-year old who still retained his baby fat. Severus was used to this, always getting beat up for one thing or another. His parents believe in character building and it was their sick idea to let him go out into the Muggle world to the same park, where the same kids taunted him day after day. Of course, this only cemented his hatred for Muggles, which was probably the reason why his parents sent him there in the first place. He could have easily just gone somewhere else more preferable, such as Knockturn Alley, but his parents had contacts everywhere, and they would know if he wasn't at the park. If he could get into his parents good graces, which were never really that good, he'd be able to use that to his advantage in the future.

He was tall for his age, his black hair slightly greasy in appearance hung around his face, his rich black clothes fitting properly to his very skinny frame. He was from one of the oldest, most powerful, pureblooded wizarding families. So, of course, his parents socialized only with the powerful families, such as the Malfoys and the Blacks. And they were just as full of spite, nasty, cruel and heartless as the best of them. Of course, he could be just as cruel and heartless, and maybe, if he pleased them enough, they wouldn't subject him to torture and those awful curses when he messed up even a little.

And now, since he was in a Muggle park, he would not be able to use his magic. The small grassy area was filled with sandboxes, swing sets, kids playing fetch with their dogs, old ladies feeding birds and people just taking walks down the stone pathways under the shade of the large trees. And so the use of magic would have been down right stupid.

Being as scrawny as he was, he couldn't put up much of a fight in regard to physical attacks. If this had been a wizard he was dealing with, he would have whipped out his wand and the curses would fly quicker than the other boy could react, but alas ... his parents refused to let him have his wand on these daily outings.

Severus just looked at Michael coolly and calmly, his black eyes piercing. "And you're about as smart as a flobberworm."

Confusement flashed across the older boy's pudgy face but then an angry scowl took its place. "What is that, your best insult?" he sneered.

Severus continued to remain calm. "Perhaps."

And then the punch came and it sent Severus flying backwards, landing in a large mud puddle, sprawled on his back. Rubbing his rather large nose, he stood up, looking calm. If there was one thing he knew, it was how to take a beating. This was a lesson his father had driven into him thousands of times.

"Ooh, a tough guy now, are ya?"

And another punch came, this time landing him hard in the stomach, sending him stumbling back, his hands grasped over his midsection, gasping for air. He took a deep breath, steadying his shaking limbs.

Still standing his ground, he just looked at the boy. Idiot Muggle, they're all idiots ... he has no clue what he's dealing with.

Michael seemed to grow even angrier at Severus' silence and punched him a few more times, the last one landing Severus flat on his back, struggling for air. Michael kicked him in the side and he just laid there, looking up at the nearly cloudless sky, his face expressionless.

Michael kicked him once more before finally getting disgusted with Severus' lack of action, and walking away. Severus pulled himself to his feet, looking down at his mud-covered clothes. Yet another thing father can use as an excuse to give me a sound beating or a nice round of Crucio, he thought, a little bitter. Always beating my mother or me for one thing or another. And ruining my clothes will just make them both angry, since they don't come cheap, and they have to keep up their outward appearances. With me walking around in ragged clothes, those appearances never hold up too well.

Brushing a strand of his hair from his face, he began the long walk home, his pride intact, as that was something that he would never let go, no matter what happened.