Through Another's Eyes

BOOK ONE: CHAPTER 1

Severus Snape found himself unpleasantly awake that humid, August night.

A light rain was falling outside his window. Everything was silent and peaceful as could be - so where the hell was this feeling of agitation coming from?

True, sleep never came easily, but there was something else.

Could it be the dread that Minerva was going to strap him with her ridiculous niece?

Just what he needed, he thought bitterly. An assistant.' A charity case. Nobody knew what to do with her, so why not give her to him? Let her "assist" him. In other words, disrupt his research, botch his potions and waste his time. But why not? After all, potions weren't important to anyone. What was the harm?

He sighed angrily. He never got any respect.

But why lie awake? After all, he'd just bury her in paperwork and ignore her the entire time, as he had other dunderhead interns with whom Albus had burdened him.

So...what was this odd unease?

Throwing back the black sheets and quilts, he climbed out of the bed and lit a couple of candles. In the dimness he caught himself in the mirror and saw the harsh, dark lines that were etching themselves on his face. It was getting harder to look every day.

Years, years and more years. The school's cycle seemed to press on more relentlessly each year. At times he felt as if he were observing it from a distance. The first weeks of school and all of their ruckus, Halloween, Christmas, Spring, Summer. So mechanical by now, he sometimes felt he was a spectator, and didn't really have to live any of it. Just let it flow on its own momentum.

Throwing on his cape, he didn't know exactly where he was heading, but knew he had to leave his chambers. Something was wrong. Something was different.

It was well past midnight. Hurrying through the twisting labyrinth of corridors and passageways, he didn't know quite what he was looking for - but continued in the direction of the main hall. Gradually, he began to hear a stir of voices. Muffled, at first. Then more pronounced. Then the screaming began.

After he'd rushed downstairs into the main hall, he saw that the main doors were ajar. Wind and rain was sweeping inside, until finally, Hagrid shut them with a boom.

Albus, Minerva and Hagrid were together in a huddle. Minerva and Albus had hold of a young woman's arms, one on each side

"I can't stay here," the woman screamed. "Let me go!"

Her dark hair was a ringing wet mess. Her eyes, which were an unsettling sort of blue, were wild with panic and agitation.

"Let go of me," she cried, her voice breaking. From above, a lamp began to swing. Snape looked up and his eyes widened in alarm. A nearby vase tumbled from its stand and shattered with a sickening crash. Two windows to the rear suddenly cracked and shattered.

"I have to go back. I want to be with her. I hate you, Aunt Minerva. Damn you. Let me go back. I have to go..."

Minerva's face was strained to the limit. Snape had never seen her look so concerned or so frightened. Quickly, he hurried to her side.

The young woman's face was a disaster - marred by tears, exhaustion, running mascara, red welt on her forehead, dampness and raw panic. The veins in her neck stood out like flying buttresses on a cathedral. Oddly, she probably could pass for pretty, somehow; but certainly not now.

"Amelia, this is where you should be," Minerva said gently, her voice trembling with fatigue. "You're safest here. No one's going to hurt you. I promise. We care about you."

"No. I can't stay. I need to be back with her. That's where I belong. She needs me. This place is evil. My father said it was evil."

Albus was raking a hand through his beard, trying to think of anything to help.

Minerva glanced pleadingly at Snape, who stood, looking on in horror.

Bursting into sobs, Amelia covered her eyes with her hands.

It had been a horrible trip. The plane flight was bad enough - cramped and stuffy, as usual. But the bizarre express train out to the school was the true nightmare. Its roar was almost deafening, and the train seemed to fly around every turn and corner faster than the last.

She'd fought off nausea from the very beginning, not helped by the large, red welt on her forehead that throbbed in pain - from several unsuccessful attempts at running toward and into a brick wall at the London railroad station.

Everything inside the train out to the school had been blurry and hazy; and she could not even look out of a window, because the scenery was so abstract, and so shaded, it made her even sicker.

As the panes of glass began to crack in other side windows, and Snape gazed at them in something deeper than curiosity. Was she doing this?

Something drew his glance away from the glass. The woman suddenly was looking at him. It was almost frightening - especially her eyes. He could only stare back at her, in a mixture of dread, pity and horror.

Something in her mind cleared. A small corner felt peace. Black. He was wearing black. He looked so nice. Black was so nice. So real. So soothing.

A sob escaped her throat and she just flew to him, like a train, or an arrow shot from a bow - slamming into him with so much force he nearly lost his footing.

She buried her face in his cloak and held onto him like she'd never let go. Her hair was ringing wet, but it somehow smelled nice - like heather. Reluctantly, he steadied her with his own arm and let her stay where she was.

Minerva looked on in agony, and brushed tears away.

Albus cleared his throat and smiled politely.

"Severus, allow us to introduce your new assistant, Amelia Garrett."