Of Times That Are Past

Of Times that are Past

Chapter One

HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY

Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore

(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)

Dear Miss Christenson

We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all required books and equipment.

Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July

Yours sincerely,

Minerva McGonagall

Deputy Headmistress

Catherine had read and re-read that letter so many times that she could recite it verbatim, although it has to be said that it never took her more than two readings to know a piece by heart. She turned around to lie on her back and stared into space, thinking, reminiscing.

It had only been five days ago that she had received it (it had been addressed to Catherine Christenson, Catherine's Room, First Floor, 20 Waffling Lane, Alansville, Kensington) but in that short space of time it had completely and utterly turned her world upside down. She had dismissed it as a prank letter at first, in fact she had not even told her parents, however the next day another letter had arrived and that afternoon there had been a visitor. . .

She had returned home from the library to discover him in the house. Her rather shocked-looking father had introduced him to her as Professor Kettleburn. What an odd sounding name, she had thought . . . but the name had been nothing compared to what he had told her next. . .

She was a witch!! Catherine Christenson, all round bookworm and weirdo of the school, was a witch!

She had not believed it at first, but how could she deny it when the Professor made a flock of pigeons shoot out of the end of his wand? Or when he made the living room sofa hover three feet in the air? Or when he made the books jump out of the book cases and waltz around the room?

Catherine turned over again and held her chin in her hands. Now that she thought about it all, she realized it did make some sense. After all, strange things had always seemed to happen to her. She had always known where exactly to find a book in the library, she always knew exactly where to things that had supposedly been lost, and what about the time Mark the school bully had cornered her in the canteen? The carton on his tray had exploded and sprayed him with milk, his hair had been ruined and he had actually cried in front of everyone. Bye bye tough guy image. . . Added to that was her incredible ability to retain and recall facts of all types. She was the class topper, the teacher's pet, the smartest kid in the school. True to form she already had the set books off by heart. Be it The Standard Book of Spells, Grade One by Miranda Goshawk, A Beginner's Guide to Transfiguration by Emeric Switch or Potions, Solutions, Draughts and Concoctions by Argento Black, she knew them all.

Catherine sighed, then scolded herself, it's not like I'm leaving a lot behind. She was not popular and had no friends. In fact the only person she had ever felt close to was her father. Michael Christenson was a journalist; he had made quite a name for himself in the recent past with his writing, but despite his new found success he had always had time for Catherine. His wife Carol had died giving birth, but he had never remarried and had raised Catherine single-handedly. She had always been his pride and joy. He was not a wizard, and neither had been Carol, but, as Professor Kettleburn had explained to them, muggle-born witches and wizards were not uncommon. In fact, muggle-borns had traditionally expanded the boundaries of magical knowledge by the application of muggle science and philosophy.

Despite everything, Catherine was nervous. She had never been liked in her old school, so there was no reason she would be liked at this new school, Hogwarts or whatever it was called. And unlike before she would not have the company of her father to fall back on. She would have to live there amidst all those people who would definitely not like her and would tease her and be rude to her and ignore her and . . .

Quickly she squashed the negative thoughts . . . I'll find out soon enough what happens. There's no use obsessing over it now.

She got into bed and pulled the covers on top. Very soon, Catherine was asleep.

~~~~

Severus Snape was bathed in a cold sweat.

Thick though the walls of the mansion were they were still not thick enough to block the sounds of his parents quarrelling in their rooms downstairs. Severus turned around and lay on his front, trying to muffle the sounds by putting his hands on his ears.

It was always the same . . . Every night he heard them fight, every morning he woke up to find some fresh bruise on his mother's body... Oh she tried to hide them all right, but he could always see. . . Even at age eleven, Severus Snape was an observant boy. Nothing escaped his attention. Every minute detail was lodged and noted in his memory. He revelled in intricacy and complexity. He prided himself on noticing the smallest change in people's demeanour. They might not know it, but he always did. . .

Which is why he had noticed that his mother and father were quarrelling more frequently nowadays; ever since that one night when his father had come home and proudly shown Augustine something on his left fore-arm. Severus did not know what it was, he had tried to see, but Silvius had brushed him away. But Severus still remembered his mother's shocked and terrified face when she had seen it. . .

And since then Silvius had started going out more, often late at night. Sometimes he returned only in the early hours of the morning. He tried to be quiet, he never woke the house-elves, but Severus always knew. . . As he lay awake in his bed, he would hear his father climb the stairs to his bedroom and he would hear his parents' talking in low voices, sometimes they fought, sometimes she screamed, often he heard Augustine weeping into the night. . .

One month from that night Severus had noticed the first bruise on his mother's face. She had tried to hide it, using make up, but he had seen it. He had asked her about it, and she had not answered, but Severus knew, Severus knew that it had been his father.

As the days passed, the bruises came more frequently, and became more noticeable. Yet Augustine still tried to cover them up, never complaining, never breathing a word, as if speaking about them would make them real, as if she was holding on to her dignity by a thin thread of denial. . .

He had tried often to protect her, but it was futile. He was but eleven and his father, was tall, muscly and not averse to using his belt. Severus had been beaten too many times in his life to still be afraid of it, yet his mother's haunted face hurt him more than any beating of his father. During the day he was always there to step in between his parents, but at night, he was powerless. . .

Severus loved Augustine. Of course, he could never say it out loud, Silvius would skin him alive for showing such a 'weak' emotion, however that didn't change anything. Silvius had taken it upon himself to stomp out any 'humanity' (he said it like it was a disgusting swear-word) from Severus by beginning his instruction in the Dark Arts when he was merely nine years old.

Severus had acquired enough knowledge of the Dark Arts to rival many much older than him, and also perfected his acting skills to a degree at which even his father was fooled but his love for his mother was like a torch he carried within himself. It refused to let him become like his father. It kept him sane, and made him hopeful, that perhaps someday things might get better. He would take his mother and they would get away from Silvius and they would stay together forever . . . and she would no longer have that haunted look in her face; she would be happy and he, Severus, would make her happy. . .

Yet the next day he would have to leave her. While glad to be away from his father, he was gravely concerned about Augustine. Without him to protect her, what would she do? What would Silvius do to her? Far away at Hogwarts, Severus would not be able to protect her. No matter how much he tried he could not stop himself from hearing his parents shouting; he turned over and stared at the ceiling . . .

Severus Snape did not sleep that night.

~~~~~

'How can it be Platform nine and three quarters? Dad? I mean, it can be nine, it can be ten but how nine and three quarters?' Brown eyes looked up expectantly at Michael and he couldn't help but smile at his daughter. Catherine had been going on about the platform number since morning, when she had first seen it. Which was, of course, one of the reasons he had not given her the ticket earlier.

As Michael opened his mouth to answer, he heard a familiar voice behind him

'Ah, Catherine, in the magical world, anything is possible you see,' said Professor Kettleburn. 'I hope you haven't had to wait too long, there was a snag in the Floo Network.'

'Umm... well, we haven't been waiting long,' said Catherine, looking up at him, 'but what's a Floo Network?'

Professor Kettleburn laughed. 'I can see I'm going to have a lot of questions to answer when I get to teach you at Hogwarts. I look forward to it. Right now though we are running rather late, so shall we get going?' He turned to look at Michael.

'Yes, of course Professor, I must confess I myself am rather curious to find out about this ¾ business...' said Michael.

'Before we do this Michael I have to remind you that what you are going to see must remain a secret. The safety of the entire wizarding world, including your daughter, may be put at risk if you breathe a word of this to anyone.' Professor Kettleburn said seriously to Michael.

'I assure you that I would never do anything that might harm my Catherine,' replied Michael just as seriously.

Apparently satisfied the professor turned back to Catherine, who had been waiting rather impatiently. 'You see Katie there is a very simple trick to this. You have to walk straight into the barrier between platforms 9 and 10 and if you have magical blood in your veins you will pass through to the other side onto Platform 9 ¾,' he said to her.

'But what about daddy? Can't he come to the other side with me?'

'I'm afraid not. I'll go first and I'll be waiting there for you. So you can see I'm telling the truth and you can say your good byes. Okay?'

'Okay.'

The professor gave her a friendly nod, shook Michael's hand and walked over to the barrier. He leaned on his side, very nonchalantly and before Catherine's very eyes, he disappeared!

She looked around wildly to see who else had noticed but everyone was bustling past just like nothing had happened.

Bewildered she turned to her father 'Daddy did you see that? He just disappeared! Into thin air!'

'I guess its goodbye for now Katie bear,' said Michael, bending down to Katie's eyelevel, 'Be good now. And don't forget to write and always do your homework. Okay?' He tried to hide his sadness but did not quite manage it. Katie knew him too well to be fooled by his act. She put her hand around his neck and they held each other for a very long time.

When they finally let go, Michael and Catherine walked over to the barrier. Katie looked back at her father who nodded reassuringly; she stepped forward and into the barrier. The world dissolved in a flurry of colour . . .