Village of the Snapes

The laughter was getting on his nerves.

It made him grimace like a rabid dog.

It made him sit bolt upright in his seat, back muscles so tense they were in danger of spasming.

It made him twitch.

This was all perfectly normal behaviour for Snape, however - thus no one in the Great Hall noticed, and they all went right on laughing, chattering, and generally being children. Damn and blast them.

Poking glumly at a piece of smoked bacon on his plate, Snape barely noticed the overly familiar rush of wings as the morning post arrived; the potions master did not receive owls often, and when he did they tended to be from the Malfoys: disturbing invitations to wine-tasting and/or muggle-torturing events at the Manor from Lucius, gushing notes about Draco's progress from Narcissa. The latter, if possible, were the most unnerving - they were frequently accompanied by photographs of Draco's mother wearing skimpy flowery robes and blowing kisses.

Not that Snape minded receiving pictures of beautiful, infatuated women through the post - it was merely unfortunate that the only beautiful woman he knew who did not find him repulsive was Narcissa, who had once been his fiancee, in the dark days when Grandmother Livia, the Snape matriarch, and hideous Aunty Mildred, head of the nauseating Mont-Strepping family, had been obsessed with joining the two families. At the tender age of sixteen - after many years of forced friendship with the younger Mont-Streppings, who were a foul bunch of thickheads possessing, nevertheless, a certain instinct for self-preservation - Snape had been told by Livia of his betrothal, since birth, to Narcissa Mont-Stepping, she of the pink frills and teddy bear pyjamas, she of the irritatingly girlish giggle and habit of skipping instead of walking.

Thank heaven for Lucius and his bad-boy magnetism! Three days after Snape introduced Narcissa to his handsome best friend, she had called off the engagement; three weeks later she married Malfoy, changing her personality somewhat in the process from airy-fairy to cold fish, for the sake of her husband's sanity. Worryingly, she continued, even to this day, to send Snape perfumed letters assuring him that she was still his 'darling Cissy' though anyone looking at her proud face would not have believed such girlishness possible from such an obvious ice-queen. If only!

"I believe your owl is trying to attract your attention, Severus." A mild voice said in his ear. Snape jumped as he noticed for the first time the impatient bird, perched on his chair, eating his toast.

"What have you brought me, Marius?" There was dread in the potions master's voice - please, not another billet-doux from 'Cissy'! The owl dropped a letter indifferently into Snape's lap and continued on the toast. Snape's long white fingers trembled slightly as he opened the envelope - thankfully it was not perfumed!

To his surprise - though not relief - the letter he withdrew carried his own family crest and was covered in the spidery writing of none other than Grandmother Livia herself. Snape gulped unobtrusively. Looking up he noticed that several staff members were peering at him with interest. Dumbledore was openly reading the letter over Snape's shoulder. It ran like this - Livia had, as usual, written on behalf of the entire family:

Grandson,

We hope this letter finds you well, not that we have any way of knowing, since you appear to have chosen not to communicate with your relatives. The last time we saw you, Severus, was at your grandfather's funeral, and we have not forgotten that your last visit *before* poor Augustus' death was very little prior to that event, and that you visited without warning bringing a gift of a rather unusual wine. You may remember that my delicate stomach most unfortunately prevented me from partaking.

This aside, however, we are writing to inform you that your Uncle Drusus, of whom we have strongly disapproved for several decades, has been reinitiated into the family favour. Drusus has been offered and has accepted the position of Headmaster at Durmstrang school - the school you would have attended, Severus, had not your mother (rest her soul) been so insistent about Hogwarts. We remind you as an aside that your current position as teacher at Hogwarts is a matter of great shame to your family. We did not raise you to play about with potions, Severus. Had we wanted a chemist for a grandson we would have married a muggle!

You will be pleased to know that there will be plenty of opportunity to discuss this and other issues further, since we are planning a family Gathering the weekend after next to celebrate your Uncle's new position. *You are expected to attend this event*. No excuse about long distances are acceptable in this instance - the Gathering will be held at Hogsmeade. The Family will retire in the evenings to Hogwarts - you will thus obtain permission from your employer, by any means necessary, and reply immediately to your loving,

Grandmother.

With a groan, Snape dropped the letter onto the table.

"I should have known." He muttered. "Only grandmama would think it too vulgar to send her bird directly to the recipient of a letter. Only grandmama would have the gall to summon my own owl to fetch a letter for its master."

The other teachers were looking curiously at Snape, and even more curiously at Dumbledore, who had gone rather pale. McGonagall could hardly believe her ears. The man who had defeated Grindlewald, the wizard whom the Dark Lord feared above all others, the headmaster of the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world, was afraid of an elderly lady?

"You have never met Livia, have you, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, as though reading her thoughts. McGonagall shook her head.

"I shall be honoured to introduce her to you." Sneered Snape. "You might get on quite well. She's something of an old cat herself."

McGonagall's eyes narrowed.

"Probably more of an old *bat* from what I gather about your family history, Severus."

Snape glowered, but did not respond, a remarkable thing in itself, since he usually insisted on having the last word in any argument, sweeping from the room before his opponent could find a reply.

"Hogwarts will be honoured to play host to your family Gathering, Severus." Dumbledore was saying unhappily to the Potions master. Snape, looking equally miserable, replied,

"I'm sure grandmama will be enternally grateful." With that, he rose to his feet, muttered his excuses, and stormed from the hall with his usual violence. McGonagall turned thoughtfully to the headmaster.

"This Livia must be truly fearsome, if she frightens our resident terror so much."

Dumbledore did not reply. He was staring at Snape's letter, lying on the table where the potions master had left it.

"Albus?"

"I beg your pardon, Minerva. I was merely contemplating the possibility of taking a short sabbatical..."

"Really, I'm surprised at you! How awful can this woman be?"

"How high is the moon?" Came the distracted reply.

"Well, I refuse to believe it. She is probably just a bitter old woman too used to being put on a pedestal by the rest of her family. I for one will not be cow-towing to her!"

Dumbledore turned to the deputy headmistress, a strange, distant smile playing about his lips.

"In that case, Minerva, perhaps you would like to play hostess at this gathering? I'm sure Severus would welcome your assistance." The gauntlet was thrown down. Pride and a healthy sense of self-efficacy prevented any possibility of refusing the challenge.

"Very well." McGonagall said primly. "This should prove most interesting."

"Interesting," sighed Dumbledore, "is not the word I would have chosen..."

--Saturday morning--

The day dawned bright and clear.

Snape went through the motions of existing in a complete daze. He rehearsed, in front of a mirror, various ways of greeting Livia, all of which resulted in her slapping him, cursing him, or simply sticking to form and quietly poisoning him later in the evening. He had taken a double dose of bezoar essence in preparation for the latter.

Livia - or rather one of the servants - had owled the previous day to announce that the Hogsmeade meeting had been cancelled, since many family members lived outside the British Isles and could not make it in time. The Snape clan would instead make directly for Hogwarts, where they were expected to arrive sometime in the later afternoon. Dumbledore had instructed all students to remain in their dormitories from five o'clock onwards, and the Great Hall was strictly out of bounds to anyone but staff for the entire weekend. A wise precaution. Grandmama had no fondness for children of any sort; she tolerated those of respected wizarding families, but Snape had a good idea of what chaos might ensue if she was to be introduced to - for example - an over-bright muggle-born like the Granger girl.

Snape was very good at hiding his emotions as a rule, except on those odd occasions - almost all of which involved the Potters, senior or junior, and/or Sirius Black - when he lost his temper and went temporarily berserk. He always regretted such undisciplined displays afterwards, especially since Lucius Malfoy tended to refer to them disparagingly as 'Sevvie's little hissy fits'. However, on this dread day, the potions master was having to make a truly super-human effort suppress the quietly bubbling hysterics that threatened to boil over and scald everyone around him.

By five o'clock, however, the appointed time of Grandmama's arrival, Snape was strangely calm. This could partly be attributed to the vast amount of asphodel-based potions he had been consuming since six that morning, but part of it was the knowledge that the horror was finally here - which meant that the end was in sight.

--Saturday, 5 p.m.--

"I think they are here."

"Oh my God."

"Calm down, Severus."

"I'm perfectly calm! Stop harassing me!"

"She's just your grandmother, pull yourself together, man!"

"That's fine for you to say, McGonagall..." Snape got no further. The black carriage pulled by four plumed flying horses, Livia's favourite method of travel, was descending out of the twilight. It landed gracefully, without a jolt, and out of it stepped...

Two young men, wearing slightly nervous grins. One of them was black-haired and greasy, like Severus; the other, who looked younger, had curly, dirty blonde hair and mildly psychotic blue eyes. The older of the two opened the rear door of the carriage, offering his hand to the person within...a small, thin, claw like hand holding an umbrella handle shaped like a snake appeared, followed by a bony arm swathed in black lace. And following that, the most peculiar creature one could ever imagine calling 'human' emerged, looking like nothing so much as a querulous vampire bat. Livia Snape was tiny, painfully thin - that was discernible even through the thick, curtain-like black robes she was draped in - with a wizened, pointy visage. Wispy grey hair could be seen beneath a drooping black hat, but beneath the hair, eyes like coals glittered with a ferocity that made you want desperately to be somewhere else...anywhere else...

If Severus Snape could be called sinister, then Livia was sinister's grandmother. And then some.

"Greetings, grandson." The voice was cracked with age, nevertheless holding a raspy authority that was enough to make Snape cringe.

"Greetings, grandmama." He replied, tentatively. "Er...how nice to see you."

"You lie." She hissed, peering at Severus. He backed away slightly, indicating Dumbledore and McGonagall.

"You remember Headmaster Dumbledore..."

"Welcome to Hogwarts, Madame Snape."

"...and this is Minerva McGonagall, deputy headmistress, transfiguration professor, and head of Gryffindor House."

"Gryffindor?" Livia spoke the word as though it were a profanity. "We did not bring you up to associate with Gryffindors, Severus...*or* with Animagi."

McGonagall, torn between anger at being insulted and unwilling respect that Livia had identified her as an Animagus so easily, said nothing, but narrowed her eyes slightly and gave Livia a rather curt nod. Snape, glancing unhappily from one to the other, turned his attention to the young men who accompanied Livia.

"Headmaster, Minerva, may I introduce my cousins Trefusis and Gaius Snape."

"Hello." Said the brothers together, politely enough.

"Welcome, both of you. Will you come inside?" Dumbledore gallantly offered Livia his arm. She hit him with her umbrella.

"I can walk unassisted, I thank you!"

Dumbledore decided to keep his distance.

--Saturday, 7 p.m.--

Many of the Hogwarts students had spent Saturday afternoon speculating on just what was going on in the Great Hall that would necessitate keeping them out. Some of the older students were quite indignant at Dumbledore's caginess about the whole thing; others feared something terrible and secret was going on.

Fred and George Weasley were running a book, and most of the Gryffindors were assembled in their common room, placing bets.

"A galleon says it's a staff piss-up." Seamus Finnigan was saying.

"Right, that's it. Everyone taken a bet?" George wrote down Seamus' decision and formally closed the book. "Now we need to find out what's going on in there."

"How are we supposed to do that, then?" Demanded Dean Thomas.

"Easy." Retorted Fred. "Someone sneaks along to the Hall and has a look. No problem."

"Well, *I'm* not doing it." Dean said firmly.

"Me neither."

"Nor me."

"Count me out."

In the end, they used Fred's wand as a random selector -though perhaps Fred's idea of random was not quite the same as everyone else's, since the twins took great delight in the fact that the wand chose poor Neville Longbottom to be the Gryffindor spy.

"Don't worry, Neville." Harry comforted the terrified boy, "you can use my cloak."

"And we'll come with you as far as the entrance hall." Put in Hermione, including Harry and Ron in her promise.

"Ok." The unfortunate boy quavered.

Neville, swathed in Harry's invisibility cloak, was soon stumbling unhappily in the direction of the Great Hall. Harry, Hermione and Ron settled themselves on the deserted stairs to wait for him as he tiptoed to the doors and peered in.

Two seconds later he was back, throwing off the cloak in his horror, his face deathly pale and his body shaking with uncontrollable panic.

"Neville!" Hermione cried, alarmed. "What's wrong? What's going in there?"

"Snapes..." whispered Neville.

"Snape's what?" Ron demanded.

"Snapes!" Wailed Neville. "Dozens and dozens of them..."

The trio should, of course, have turned and fled. But they were Gryffindors, and traditional Gryffindor courage allowed them to creep up to the doors, with a trembling Neville in tow, and take a look for themselves.

Neville had been right. Snapes, as far as the eye could see...countless tall, thin, greasy, black-haired denizens, standing in little groups holding drinks and conversations, peering distrustfully at one another as though they didn't like each other very much.

"Bloody hell..." said Ron weakly. And rather too loudly. He cringed as Snape - 'their' Snape - peered around the door, near which he had been lurking, hoping to slip away unnoticed at some opportune moment.

"And just what," the potions master growled, "are you Gryffindors doing here?"

"We...we, er..."

Snape's eyes narrowed, but before he could speak again, a tiny old woman clubbed him in the back of the head with an umbrella almost as long as she was tall.

"Move, stupid child! What are these brats doing here?" She glared at Harry, Ron, Hermione, and the cowering Neville. But then, incredibly, her expression changed. It didn't soften -her face would have cracked - but a glint of interest came into her sharp black eyes. She leered at them - and especially at Harry.

"Well, Severus, why aren't you making these young people welcome?"

"Grandmama, they are..."

"Introduce them to me, ignorant wastrel!"

"Yes, grandmama." Snape growled, glaring at the Gryffindors with an expression that quite clearly said he'd get them later, and when they were least expecting it. "Weasley, Granger, Longbottom, and...*Potter*." He spat out Harry's name.

"Hmm..." mused Livia, thoughtfully. "A Weasley...pureblood family...some influence with the ministry...yes, Weasleys have their uses...Longbottom, I fancy I know your parents. Aurors, were they not?"

Neville nodded dumbly.

"Always helpful to keep in with aurors...I know your grandmother as well, boy. Respectable lady...and Potter..." her eyes fixed on Harry. "Of course, you are the boy we must all thank for ridding us of that badly brought up, nasty little upstart, Voldemort..."

Ron and Neville winced at the name.

"Granger...I don't know any Grangers..."

"I'm muggle born, Madame Snape." Hermione informed her crisply. Livia shot her a look.

"Are you, indeed? So you know nothing, I expect, of our family?"

"Actually," Hermione began in the tone that meant she was about to give a lecture, "I read that the Snape family is one of the oldest and most respected pureblood families in existence..." before she could go on, Livia burst into cackles.

"Splendid! Splendid! Don't just stand there, you great dimwit," she snapped at Severus, "invite these charming children in."

"Oh, but..." seeing the look in her eye, Snape licked his lips, shivered slightly and turned a horrible smile upon the students. "Do come in, *dear* children."

With a fearful glance at Snape, Neville, Harry and Ron slipped past him and the leering Livia into the great hall. Hermione followed with her head held high, smiling politely at Livia as she passed her.

"*Now* what?" Gasped Ron, as they stood in the midst of a sea of Snapes.

"I don't know." Harry whispered back. "We mingle, I suppose. Try to find Dumbledore or McGonagall." Harry remembered vaguely reading a children's book, some years ago, about two normal everyday muggle children who'd been invited to a party by a little witch girl - surrounded by other, less friendly witches, and especially the little witch's fearsome, evil great-great-great-etc grandmother, they had spent a fearful evening hoping not to be poisoned or used in some deadly party game. Standing here surrounded by Snapes, Harry was reminded uncomfortably of that once-amusing story.

In attempting to find Dumbledore, the group was accosted by several Snapes, thankfully many of which seemed *less* sinister than the potions master. They met Trefusis and Gaius, who were quite friendly and offered them blackberry punch; they met two brothers from the Irish side of the family, the Gallagher-Snapes, who confided that they would be performing at a musical soiree later; and they also saw, to their astonishment, what appeared to be a Muggle, hovering uncertainly in a corner.

"Erm...excuse me," said Harry politely to Gaius, "who is that over there?" He nodded towards the bewildered looking muggle.

"Oh, he's from a splinter branch of the family. Bit of a strange story, really - one of Mad Uncle Drusus' daughters ran off and married a muggle - he's her son. He doesn't really understand about wizards, I gather, doesn't even know he's a half-blood. He's an actor or something...pleasant sort of chap, his name's Alan, Alan Rickman-Snape." Gaius paused to take a sip of punch while Trefusis added,

"He's here for the...er, *ritual* afterwards."

"Ritual?"

"Yes, you know, the muggle sacrifice. Happens at all good pureblood family gatherings."

Horrified, Harry thanked Gaius and Trefusis for the information and immediately scurried over to where the unfortunate Alan Rickman-Snape was standing.

"Oh, hello," said the unsuspecting halfblood brightly. "Bit of a funny party, this, isn't it? I'm not really sure I like it."

"Leave!" Harry hissed. "Leave, now."

"Well, that's a bit rude...surely I should..."

"I mean it! These people are dangerous! Get out if you value your life!"

The actor simply smiled at him.

"You're pulling my leg." He said jovially. Fortunately, Severus Snape turned up at that moment, and after giving the other man a swift, appraising look, glanced quickly around to check the coast was clear, pulled out his wand, muttered "obliviate!" and ushered his confused relative out of the doors. Harry and the others sighed with relief as they heard Alan's car revving up.

"Kindest thing, really," Snape murmured, putting away his wand. "Wish *I* could just forget all about them...ah me..." he wandered off into the crowd.

"There's Dumbledore!" Ron hissed suddenly, pointing. "And...Malfoy!?"

The headmaster was indeed in conversation with Draco and Lucius Malfoy. Draco's mother Narcissa was with them too, but she seemed not to be very interested in what Dumbledore was saying. She kept glancing around and licking her lips in a disturbingly predatory fashion.

"I'm not going over there while Malfoy's with him." Harry muttered darkly. The group was debating what to do, and had settled on staying close to the seemingly safe Gaius and Trefusis when Livia swept past, leering at them again, with a worried-looking Snape in tow.

"Grandmama, you haven't? Please say you haven't!"

"I am the martriarch of this family, Severus. It is up to me whom I choose to invite."

"But...grandmama, they are..."

"One of the oldest branches of our family." Said Livia firmly. "They will be here very shortly, so I suggest you make the appropriate arrangements."

Snape stalked off, growling to himself.

"Goodness," mused Trefusis. "Now we're going to see some sport."

"What's the matter?" Asked Hermione.

Gaius lowered his voice. "She's invited...the Sackville-Snapes." He whispered.

"The Sackville-Snapes? What's so special about them?"

But before Gaius could answer, a short fanfare sounded. A hush fell on the room. The great doors opened, and in came...Hagrid. He was carrying a large wooden box, more than six feet long and two three feet wide, on his shoulder. As everyone watched in expectant silence, Hagrid brought in a second, slightly smaller box...then a third...a fourth...and finally, a fifth, much smaller box, perhaps four feet in length. He set each down very carefully, then stepped back.

Livia stalked forward, pausing beside the largest box, and proceeded to rap three times on its lid.

"Cousin Vladimere?" She called. "Can you hear me?"

Holding their breath, Harry, Hermione, Ron and Neville could not help but lean forward for a closer look as slowly, inch by inch, the lid was raised...