Sixteen

Sixteen

by

MMM

Chapter 7

Seeing the smooth and smiling faces of his fellow students once again made Snape feel wary and tired. For them, it had just been six weeks of holiday, but for him it felt like a lifetime. Fortunately, Hawick had sent him all the stuff he needed this morning: Snape couldn't imagine what they would think if he were to turn up without a book to his name.

As he walked onto Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters, he saw heads turned, then whispered into each other's ears. A few sneered and giggled as he walked past. Snape shot them a look but walked on. Evidently, the incident last June was still fresh on everyone's mind. He remembered again how Potter and Black had humiliated him and his hand tightened instinctively around the handle of his wand.

The incident itself was bad enough but the aftermath was no less horrible. News like this travelled like wild fire and Hogwarts was soon set ablaze. The teachers didn't know about it but every student knew by the end of the day. Wherever he went, people he had never talked to before would suddenly shout insults and snigger. He hexed the first few offenders but it only helped to spread the news of his humiliation. Potter and Black had successfully destroyed what little social standing he had and by the end of the term, Snape found himself living in virtual isolation, skipping breakfasts just to avoid the crowd. He prayed something interesting or scandalous had occurred this summer to draw attention away from him.

With a sense of foreboding, Snape boarded the train, earlier than most to secure his seat. No one ever wanted to sit with him -- on his last journey, he spent the entire trip standing between carriages after being brandished out of the Slytherins carriage by Bellatrix Black, even though as a prefect, she didn't sit with the rest of them.

Of course, he was used to it. Right from the moment he walked through the brick wall of King's Cross Station as an eleven-year-old, Snape knew he was destined to be an outcast. And if he didn't, then Potter and Black made it plain to him by the end of their first train trip to Hogwarts.

He glanced out of the window and saw the silent movie of many goodbyes. Almost without meaning to, he searched the platform and saw Potter kissing his mother goodbye while his father stood some distance away, talking to Black. Potter's eyes were looking at his father but he was ignored; Black grimaced and Potter's mother held onto her son's arms tighter. Even Snape could feel the awkwardness inside his carriage.

And my mother never kissed me goodbye before she left. His chest clenched as Potter's mother finally let go of her son. All she gave me was a stupid note asking me to learn to forgive. His father got a much longer letter, presumably because she had more remedies for his many flaws. However, to Snape's knowledge, it was never read.

The train rolled slowly out of the station and though a few people had come in, his part of the carriage remained unoccupied, which suited him fine. He had much catching up to do, as the NEWTs syllabus was notoriously difficult.

He started with the Potions textbooks first. For some odd reason, Professor Bannockburn felt they needed their own copy of Who's Who in Potions and Apothecary this year. Snape searched for 'Beatrice Bannockburn' first and found a very small paragraph discussing her work in a dismissive tone Snape didn't like. He looked up several other names but it didn't tell him anything new and was about to put it aside when a silly idea occurred to him.

It was stupid and vain. If anyone ever picked up his copy, he was destined for another bout of humiliation.

I would just lock it with a ward, Snape told himself and opened the Who's Who again.

He took a quill out of his pocket and flipped to section S again. He looked around to make sure no one was watching and put the Who's who on the seat opposite him, his eyes browsing for the right place. Samuelson, Sen, Sheiler ...he found a space below Zachary Smith, who's famous for his different varieties of Befuddling Potions and dipped his quill into the inkbottle.

He stood up again to check no one was coming his way. The carriage was nearly empty. Snape sat back down quickly and scribbled on the Who's who. He wrote carefully and made sure the scripts looked exactly like the typeset. There was very little space to write on but then, Snape didn't want to write much anyway -- just a couple of words:

Snape, S. (b. 5^th May, 1960).

Snape looked at what he had written down and felt excited. He couldn't think of what he wanted to be known for, so he locked it with a ward and put the Who's Who back into his book bag.

Having finished his additional entry to the book, Snape watched the rolling hills and bright green fields speeded past his window. The gentle landscape reminded Snape that he did like these train trips after all, despite the attacks. Living in the drab grey of Knockturn had taught him to appreciate the wilderness and Snape was always delighted by the surprising lushness of the foliage. The sun shone brightly and the lights danced on treetops, shimmering on the leaves.

He should have paid more attention to the inside of the train.

'You think you can badmouth me in front of my father without paying for it?' snarled Potter, his wand already in hand. His gang took their customary stations: Black stood beside him, shoulder to shoulder; Pettigrew behind them, gazing with his watery eager eyes and Lupin, as always, hovered around the threshold of the carriage, his head turned away. They could have hit him in the back but out of either nobility or vanity, Potter never attacked him without some warning first. Out of the corner of his eye, Snape saw a group of Third Years scrambled for the exit and Lupin let them through. He noticed how Lupin's body conveniently obstructed the exit again, barring his escape.

So the ritual continued. Snape whipped out his own wand and felt his face burnt with the familiar surge of anger and hatred every time he saw Potter and his crew.

'We're going to teach you a lesson, Snivellus,' said Black. Pettigrew nodded eagerly.

'Here's a suggestion, Potter. Why don't you put your hands in your back pockets?' said Snape.

'What?' said Pettigrew stupidly. Potter and Black blinked blankly.

'So you could feel how big an arse you are,' said Snape. 'Pity you never know that. No wonder your father's disappointed, Potter.'

Potter flushed, then snarled; Snape was delighted. He had thought up that insult about a month ago and had been saving it up for this.

'Petrificus Totalius!'

'Protego!'

Potter ducked to avoid the spell and Snape hid behind a large trunk that had fallen off the luggage rack. Snape pointed his wand at Black.

'Furnunculus!'

The curse hit Black's hand and red boils broke out all over it, quickly spreading all over his body. He gave a loud yulp and let go of his wand. Snape dropped down to his knees again and Potter's hex flew past his head by mere inches. Black now stood unarmed in the middle of the aisle. Snape wasn't about to let him get to his wand.

'Stupefy!' A bright red light flew from his wand and knocked Black back against the wall. Snape had to dive again as Potter began to throw a barrage of hexes towards him. As the curses hit the trunk, it bathed the carriage in a sharp red light sporadically like fireworks. Snape wondered how long the trunk would hold out.

Suddenly, it became very quiet and the shower of lights had stopped. Snape glanced over the edge of the trunk and saw Potter dragging Black inanimate body behind a seat. Potter's untidy hair was clinging onto his face and his spectacles were cracked. The sight of his defeated enemies was gratifying. Hadn't he told them they would pay for what they done to him last June?

Seeing Potter was preoccupied in getting Black to safety, Snape seized the opportunity to cast the same soap bubble charm Potter had used on him. Just to begin with.

'Expelliarmus!' yelled Lupin. Snape's wand flew from his hand and slid across the aisle, and landed under the seat. Snape crawled to reach for it. He almost got to it when his hand was stomped painfully. He twisted his neck and saw Potter's wand pointed at him like a dagger.

'Well done, Remus,' said Potter. His boot grinded at Snape's trapped hand and Snape could hear the bones being grated against the floor. He bit his lip to stifle out the cry; he wasn't going to show them how much it hurt.

Black had got back onto his feet again but Snape could still see the boils on his hand. Black winced in pain as he tightened his grip around his own wand, then decided to pocket it instead. Snape felt a boot slammed into his side and he wheezed.

'You're dead,' said Black, grabbed a handful of Snape's hair and yanked his head off the floor.

'What? Worried how you would look in front of the girls?' chortled Snape.

'Bastard,' roared Black and smashed his head against the hard floor. Blood leaked from his forehead and trickled down his brows onto his eyes, everything around him turned red. Black's hand plunged into the pocket for his wand again.

'James, Sirius,' said Lupin. 'We're almost at Hogsmeade now.'

'Even better,' said Potter. 'It would be a shame if no one's there to witness Snivellus's punishment, wouldn't it?'

Lupin frowned and retreated to the threshold of the carriage once more. Somehow, Lupin's pity infuriated Snape even more than Potter's boot crushing his fingers. Snape tried to jerk his hand out but it only made Potter to dig harder. Snape saw Black lifted his leg again and braced himself for the blow but Potter restrained Black. Snape knew he was in trouble, even more so than last June.

'I've got an idea, Sirius,' said Potter smoothly and he whispered into Black's ear like a gossiping girl. Snape saw a smile spreading across Black's face.

All of a sudden, Potter's boot lifted and blood rushed back to the trapped hand. Snape reached for his wand but felt him being lifted into the air. Once again. Instinctively, he flapped his hands and legs, struggled to hold onto the seat but stopped when he saw Pettigrew imitating the action. At least he wasn't being turned upside down... not yet anyway.

'That's for calling us arseholes,' said Potter, flicking his wand casually.

Snape felt his body being flung to the window, his neck whiplashed as he crashed onto the glass. His arms and legs were fastened to the window by invisible bindings but it was nothing compared to the coolness of glass against his backside. With some trepidation, Snape looked down and saw his robes was lifted up. Pettigrew and Black collapsed in laugher. He couldn't let this happen again ... only weak people ...

'Say hello to everybody, Snivellus,' said Potter.

A strange buzz rang in his ears as Snape fought against the invisible binds, which made the gang laughed even harder. He would give up anything in the world for Potter, Black, Pettigrew and Lupin to be dead, or even worse, expelled. Everything blurred around him and became hazy. He felt he was being burnt in a furnace of hate, that at the end, he would be consumed by it entirely and there would be nothing left except the cold, grey ash. The hatred was eating away at his heart and Snape was sure the pain of this hatred would never go away. He wanted to scream, to let this hatred out so the pain would stop ...

He roared.

It wasn't a coherent sound, more a primal animalistic shriek, like a werewolf at full moon, helpless and howling for human flesh to ease its pain. Potter and Black both looked startled. Snape felt an energy he had felt only once before ...

...he was six, his father was bellowing at Mother and even as a little boy, he knew the hitting and cursing would soon start. He sat in a corner and started to cry. He was consumed by such grief and hopelessness that he couldn't stop crying. A powerful force coursed through his tiny, trembling body and he passed out. Minutes later, he woke up in the midst of chaos, having inadvertently smashed every single plate in the flat by magic ...

The next thing he knew, he was being propelled forward, as though riding on the crest of a wave. Shrapnel of glass cut across his forehead and he felt blood dripping down his bow. He landed face first onto the ground. He turned around and saw the entire window had been blown apart. Through the broken window, he saw they had finally arrived at Hogwarts, and on the platform stood the giant frame of one Professor Orlando Olsen, the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher and Snape's very own persecutor-in-chief on the Hogwarts faculty.

Olsen could be described in one word: square. His jaw, his face, his hands, his manner -- everything about him was square except for his thinning blonde hair, which was always oily and stuck to his scalp. Olsen fancied himself a disciplinarian, which Snape thought was an absolute joke because his favourite student was Sirius Black. Potter's gang worshipped him because he once played Beater for England, and as Olsen looked at him, Snape felt like a Bludger on the verge being smashed very hard.

'Remus, who broke the window?' asked Olsen but his eyes stared straight at Snape.

Lupin's reply was almost inaudible but both Olsen and Snape heard it: 'Snape.'

He quickly turned away and walked towards his friends without further explanation.

Snape hated Lupin. How could Lupin pretend nothing happened, shield his friends against the consequences and let him take the blame? Snape could never see why everyone thought Lupin was nice. He might have pretended he wanted no part of Snape's suffering but he never took any steps to stop his friends. Lupin was a hypocrite, he thought. Lupin's even worse than his friends. He drew as much pleasure out of Snape's humiliation as his friends, only better adept at hiding his true nature.

'So you think breaking window is funny,' snarled Olsen. He made no comment about the cut on Snape's forehead, his bruised hand or the blood on his robes. Snape wanted to explain but knew at once it would be futile. Besides, Olsen was always looking for excuse to get him expelled and arguing would only prolong his punishment.

But Olsen must have taken his silence for insolence. 'Exactly what I expect from the likes of you. Lazy, filthy, stupid and the only thing you good at is trouble making and Dark Arts.' Olsen gave another low snarl and spits flew from his mouth as he bared his sharp teeth. Snape had heard this speech at least ten dozen times before but it didn't stop him from getting exceptionally angry. Few people knew where he's from but Olsen was one of them and he had made it clear that 'the likes of him' wasn't welcome at Hogwarts. 'If it's up to me ...' Olsen trailed off, evidently too angry to continue.

'I would be out of Hogwarts by now,' Snape continued Olsen's familiar rant, unable to rein in his anger. 'But it isn't up to you, is it?'

'Detention!' Olsen roared. 'We're going to see the Headmaster!' He grabbed the back of Snape's robe and frog-marched him to the waiting carriage. The inside was pitch black and from the window, he could see Potter, Black and Pettigrew giving each other high-fives. He couldn't see Lupin but Snape had no doubt he was there, smiling his annoying, faint smile while his friends patted his back.

***

When they reached the gargoyles guarding Dumbledore's office, Snape began to panic. He shouldn't have lost his temper and regretted what he said to Olsen. While he doubted Dumbledore would expel him over a broken window (would he?), the thought of listening to Olsen outlining his nefariousness to Dumbledore once again made his stomach turned.

'Can't you send me to Professor Crabtree instead?' Snape ventured. 'He's my Head of House after all.'

'I'm afraid Professor Crabtree is unavailable,' smiled Olsen meaningfully.

'What do you mean he's unavailable?' Snape asked shortly.

But Olsen didn't seem to mind his impoliteness this time. Instead his smile widened.

'Your Head of House is helping the Aurors with their inquiry,' drawled Olsen. 'Unfortunately, Professor Dumbledore has not be able to find a replacement.'

And the Slytherins may as well start wearing Dark Mark badges, thought Snape.

'Chocolate Frog,' said Olsen and the door sprang open. They stepped onto the spiralling staircase and Olsen pushed him into Dumbledore's office when they reached the top landing.

'You wait here,' barked Olsen. 'Be warned, Snape. If you try anything funny ...'

'Don't worry. I'll just nick that lovely black kettle over there and practice my Unforgivable Curses,' said Snape sarcastically. 'I wonder if kettle feels pain.'

Olsen's face was white with rage and if Dumbledore hadn't suddenly appeared behind them, Snape had no doubt he would have reached for his wand.

'Obadiah,' said Dumbledore rather sharply. 'Please take a seat.' But Olsen continued to glare at Snape, apparently too enraged to move a muscle.

To mark the new school year, Dumbledore had chosen a violent purple robes, emblazoned with silver, animated shooting stars. Snape supposed only great wizards like Dumbledore could afford to dress in such ridiculous clothes without looking absurd.

When he recovered sufficiently from his wrath, Olsen began to speak. In his best preacher's tone, Olsen delivered his familiar sermon, hoping Dumbledore would finally see the light and join him in his crusade against the bad element i.e. Severus Snape. Listening to it filled Snape with dread and anger, even though he knew the speech and all its variations by heart.

Snape stole a glance at Dumbledore and to his astonishment, saw a faint trace of amusement as Olsen rammed home the closing passage with his stubby finger.

'If you would excuse us, Obadiah, I have several things I would like to discuss with Mr. Snape,' said Dumbledore solemnly. Olsen shot him another glare before he whirled round and strode out of the office.

'Headmaster, I didn't mean to do it,' Snape stammered as soon as he heard the door closed behind him. 'I just ... lost control and I didn't know how that happened.'

'And why did you lose control?' asked Dumbledore.

'I ...er...got into a fight,' said Snape.

'Is that all?' Dumbledore's sharp blue eyes stared straight at Snape. Snape felt his cheeks burned but remained silent. There was no way he would tell Dumbledore what Potter did to him. He didn't need Dumbledore's protection. Or his pity.

'Well, I guess being a Slytherin, you would have a natural taste for disorder,' said Dumbledore, suddenly broke into a smile. 'Not that there's anything wrong with that, as long as nobody gets hurt permanently.'

A natural taste for disorder - what on earth was Dumbledore talking about? It's the Gryffindors who likes chaos and breaking rules.

'Now, on a happier note, Mr. Snape, I suppose I should congratulate you on your O.W.Ls result. Professor Bannockburn was most impressed by your score in Potions,' said Dumbledore. 'She has a research project in mind for you. If you're interested, she would appreciate your help. Experience like this could help further your career after Hogwarts.'

'What's it about?' asked Snape.

'She will explain it to you tomorrow,' said Dumbledore in a way that didn't invite further questions. 'Now, She told me it would take up quite a bit of your spare time. So it's only fair for her to pay you out of her research grant.'

Snape had a nagging suspicion that the research project (at least the part about pay) was Dumbledore's idea. He wondered for a brief moment how much Dumbledore knew about his adventures in Trenton Estates.

'Now, is there anything else I would do for you?' asked Dumbledore.

Snape knew Dumbledore's question was perfunctory and his request was naïve. Yet this would be the last chance he had.

'Headmaster,' Snape blushed. 'I ...er didn't do too well in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Is there any way ... that I can retake the OWLs exam this year?'

'The Examiners typically don't allow people to resit their exams unless they have failed,' said Dumbledore.

'But Professor Olsen won't let me take the NEWT course without at least an Outstanding,' said Snape frantically.

Dumbledore frowned for a moment; Snape cursed his own impertinence. How could he ask Dumbledore to make an exception just for him?

'Is it absolutely necessary for you to take Defence Against the Dark Arts though?' asked Dumbledore. 'N.E.W.T. level is very specialised and only suitable if you are considering a career with the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.'

Has Dumbledore forgotten all about him wanting to be an Auror? Snape felt a weight sinking down the pit of his stomach. Or has Dumbledore discovered that he had been breaking the law all summer?

'Let me see what I can do,' said Dumbledore finally. 'I'll discuss this with Professor Olsen.'

Great. Now Olsen would definitely kill him.

'I think it's time for you to join your friends and enjoy the feast,' said Dumbledore. 'I'll have an answer for you tomorrow.'

Just as Snape was about to go downstairs, he heard a loud pop. A House Elf materialised just outside the office. Its large, watery eyes peered around the door and its long fingers held onto the door jam as though it was afraid to fall in.

'Professor Dumbledore?' squeaked the House Elf.

'What is it, Sparky?' said Dumbledore.

'Professor McGonagall has sent Sparky, Sir,' said the House Elf.

'I'll be down in a minute.'

'No, no problem, Sir.'

The House Elf continued to stand just outside the office.

'Sparky, I just need to talk to Mr. Snape here.'

'It's not the Master Professor McGonagall wanted.'

'Then what is it, Sparky?'

Snape frowned. He always found House Elves irritating but this Sparky clearly had a problem getting to the point.

'It's Severus Snape they wanted. They is very bad,' said Sparky. 'They shout at all the House Elves. Beany's crying. Sparky's mother always told Sparky that they is bad but Sparky never thought ...'

'Mr. Snape, I think you better get down there,' said Dumbledore, standing up. Snape was confused: he couldn't think of anyone who would want to visit him.

'Who are they?' he demanded of the House Elf but it would only shake its head. Dumbledore was already at the door.

'Us does not speak their names. Us has no name for such vile creatures,' the House Elf sobbed.

Snape chased after Dumbledore, who was marching quickly through the corridors. It took a quick dash for Snape to catch up with him.

'Mr. Snape, would you happen to know any goblins?' asked Dumbledore, once Snape was by his side.

Goblins?

He shook his head. This had to some sort of mistakes. Unless, Snape thought with dread. No, his father couldn't have possibly borrowed from the goblins ... goblins aren't that stupid ... Now, everybody would know what a joke his family is.

They arrived at the Entrance Hall and Snape saw a sea of students standing in a great ring. They stood aside as Dumbledore reached the crowd. Snape stood behind him awkwardly, squirming as others looked at him.

At the centre of the ring were six goblins, all looking ill-tempered, standing in the middle of the Entrance Hall. Standing in the middle was a slightly taller goblin, whom Snape presumed was the leader. McGonagall breathed a sigh of relief at the sight of Dumbledore. Olsen stood besides her, his arms folded across his chest with Potter and Black positioned strategically behind him. Snape shot them a look. He hated the way they stood next to a teacher as though they weren't just ordinary, nosy spectators. Both of them seemed transfixed by something; Snape followed their gaze and saw a brand new broomstick lying on top of four enormous trunks. It was black from the handle down to the very last twig. Lights seemed to fall on it and disappeared. He recognised it at once: Nimbus 666, nicknamed the Devil's broomstick and remembered from the catalogue that it cost a fortune.

'Headmaster Dumbledore,' said the lead goblin. 'I am Grablock Gringotts.'

Gringotts? As in Gringotts' Bank Gringotts? This was getting very strange indeed.

'How's your father, Grablock?' asked Dumbledore and shook hands. 'I recall he has had an operation on his leg a few months back.'

'We don't talk much,' said Grablock rudely.

'Mr. Snape,' turned Grablock and, to Snape's surprise, bowed. 'Can you please show my staff to your dormitory? These idiotic House Elves have been most uncooperative.'

'But what are these?' asked Snape. 'What's going on?'

'I thought your friend and you have an understanding,' said Grablock enigmatically. 'Our mutual friend, Mr. Snape, has sent us. A very good friend of yours and a very good friend of the goblins.'

Hawick! Snape was beginning to understand what's happening. But didn't Hawick already send him a package this morning?

'It's this way,' Snape pointed to the stairs leading to the Slytherin dormitory. At Grablock's command, the other five goblins promptly levitated the trunks and disappeared down the stairs. As they walked past Dumbledore, Sparky hid behind Dumbledore's legs and all other House Elves trembled either in rage or fear; Grablock's sneer became even more prominent.

'That's a very nice broomstick, Grablock,' said Professor McGonagall, in an attempt to break the awkward silence.

'We Goblins have no use for such Muggle artefacts,' said Grablock disdainfully. 'It's for Mr. Snape here.'

Another indistinct murmur went past through the crowd like a ripple.

'What good does that do? Everyone knows he's useless on a broomstick,' said Potter suddenly.

Grablock stopped and turned suddenly. With a flick of his crooked finger, Grablock sent Potter flying through the air. Potter crashed onto a screaming portrait and landed on the far end of the Entrance Hall. Students scrambled towards the Great Hall. A few First Years were pushed to the ground and started a stampede. The Professors' attempts at controlling the chaos went largely unheard.

Amongst the crowd, standing like a rock in a roaring river, was Olsen. His wand pointed it straight at Grablock's back.

Snape pushed Grablock down and shouted: 'Expelliarmus!' A sharp red light shot straight at Olsen's chest and his wand flew up.

Snape dropped to his knees. Grablock got up and smiled ruefully.

'Human, a goblin is already pretty close to the ground. He doesn't really need to hit the deck to dodge a curse. Luckily your aim is better than your sense of dimension.'

A goblin with a sense of humour, thought Snape. Where do Hawick meet them?

'You have to leave now.'

'Have you incurred the wrath of your elder?'

Snape looked at Olsen, who's still searching for his wand and nodded.

'Sorry, human. Didn't mean to cause such a mess. Farewell,' said Grablock with a twinkle in his eyes. 'But I expect we should meet again soon, my friend.' He stretched out his bony hand. Snape shook it and knew he had just made friends with someone who didn't trust humans lightly.

Grablock then gave a little wave and disappeared with a pop.

As Snape looked up again, he saw the crowd had begun to calm down. Olsen recovered his wand, and Snape knew exactly where he would point it.

'Obadiah, Hogwarts staff do not attack their visitor, however inappropriate their behaviour is,' said Dumbledore quietly. Dumbledore lowered his wand rather pointedly, as though he was the one who had disarmed Olsen. Snape was grateful for Dumbledore's intervention but knew Olsen wasn't fooled.

He had to be very dim to ever put one foot inside Olsen's classroom again after this.

***

Once again, Snape was amazed by Hawick's unimaginable reach and power. This was how Snape always thought the truly powerful did their works: looking after their own kind, who then serve in return with gratitude. That's how you should wield power, with benevolence, not brute force.

Within twenty-four hours, he had gone from having absolutely nothing to owning two sets of textbooks, enough parchments to copy out Complete Magical History in its entirety and a top-of-the-line broomstick.

Yet he felt uneasy about his windfall: partly because he wasn't used to having such material wealth, and partly because he felt guilty about accepting gifts from Hawick, especially after the way Dumbledore had covered up for him tonight.

He put everything Grablock brought for him in the trunk. He would give everything back to Hawick the first chance he had, Snape decided, including the broomstick. However, he couldn't stop himself from taking out his new broomstick once again, just to admire the smooth contour from the handle to the head.

Well, he would just take it out for a ride tomorrow, then put it in a safe place and lock it up.

But one question kept nagging at him as he put on his pyjamas: if Hawick hadn't sent him the package last night, then who did?

End of Chapter 7