Taming the True Fire (HP)

This chapter contains violence and abuse that might be triggering for some people. 

The grey afternoon sky over Spinner's End mirrored the muddy streets and dilapidated brick houses below. The dirty river, fuller than usual for December, surged by, sweeping its murky waters along with heaps of trash. Overflowing its banks in places, it seemed to match the general neglect of one of Cokeworth's most impoverished neighbourhoods. Light was scarce, with broken streetlamps casting no glow, and few families could afford to keep their homes lit beyond what was strictly necessary.

Severus Snape sat on the windowsill of his small room on the second floor, seemingly indifferent to the cold wind blowing through the open window. In truth, it made little difference, as the house was barely warmer inside. He wore nearly every piece of clothing he owned in a desperate attempt to keep himself from freezing. Yet, somehow, the chilly air offered him a small sense of relief, a distraction from the oppressive gloom that filled the house. Despite it being Christmas Eve, there was no food in the kitchen, and his father hadn't been home for days. That absence, the boy didn't mind at all, but he could see his mother growing more weary with each passing day.

The young wizard was well-aware of the reason behind it. Tobias Snape's disappearances always ended the same way—with him returning angrier, more violent, and with less money than before. Severus had begged his mother for months to let him stay at Hogwarts for the holidays, but she had insisted he come home.

'Some home this is.' – he thought bitterly, casting a glance toward Lily's house, before letting out a deep sigh.

Although he had made certain progress, and after relentless, humiliating pleading she had begun speaking to him again, there was still a noticeable chill in her behaviour. Severus realised he was becoming increasingly desperate. He deeply regretted confronting Lily during the Halloween Ball, mostly because he'd made a fool of himself—and that prat Greg McMahon seemed completely unaffected by it. To make matters worse, the boy had a nasty suspicion that the aristocrat cared for him as much as he did for the tubeworms in Potions class. The bitter truth was that if Lily Evans had chosen to be McMahon's girlfriend, Severus Snape had no way to compete. This conclusion plagued him with sleepless nights, where he ground his teeth and fought the creeping fear that his best friend was slowly but surely slipping away from him. As Lily was the guiding light of his soul, Severus felt himself sinking into darkness, drifting in an unknown direction.

He thought about Lucius' offer. Though the last thing he wanted was to tail McMahon—it was both unpleasant and risky if he got caught—he needed the money. A small sense of pride flickered as he remembered that his potions and errands were considered valuable enough by Lucius to warrant payment. But Severus was no fool. He knew Malfoy's frequent visits to Hogwarts, under the guise of his Board of Governors work, had a far deeper purpose: recruiting followers for the rising Dark Lord. It was also true that Lucius hadn't directly asked Severus to join yet, probably due to his age—or perhaps because of his blood status, which fell short of Voldemort's purity standards.

In any case, the young wizard wasn't particularly enthusiastic about becoming a Death Eater. For one, he was too rational to fall for cult-like ideologies. While he agreed with some of the Dark Lord's ideas, they were far too extreme and self-serving for his liking. Voldemort was no Grindelwald, and Severus' interest remained limited. Besides, no matter how much support Voldemort might gather, it was highly unlikely he'd ever challenge the aristocrats. That meant Severus' immediate problem— Greg McMahon—would remain unsolved. He had no interest in torturing Muggle-borns, especially if there was nothing to gain for himself.

Sighing again, the boy stood up and shut the window. The sky was darkening, and he needed to finish his Ancient Runes homework before nightfall. With the electricity out once more and his mother still refusing to use magic, even for something as simple as light or heat, he had to work fast.

'Can she be any more ridiculous?' – Severus thought, heading downstairs to the only table in the house – 'At this point, I can't even consider her a witch anymore.'

Eileen spun around as the kitchen door creaked open, a wave of relief washing over her when she saw it was her son. She wore an old black coat over her dress, but it did little to stop her shivering. Her violet eyes seemed unnaturally large in her gaunt, pale face.

"Severus, look!" – she said with a tentative smile – "I went to the church, and they were giving away canned food. It's a shame I can't heat them up, but they're still nutritious."

"I could, if you'd let me use my wand for once." – the boy replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"You know we shouldn't. Your dad doesn't like it." – she answered quietly, her eyes dropping as she began placing the tin cans in the nearly bare cupboards.

"He's not even here, for Merlin's sake!" – the Slytherin shot back, astonished by his mother's stubbornness – "Besides, I'm not hungry. I've got schoolwork to finish while there's still enough light to see the parchment."

He took out his writing supplies and set to work, his quill scratching against the paper as he tackled a translation of an epic poem about Merlin healing a village stricken by a mysterious illness that caused people to rot alive.

'I wonder if it's just a poem or if it could be sung, like Plantier did.' – the young wizard mused. He had to admit, despite his reluctance, that he had been deeply impressed by what the Gryffindor had done. He even searched for more information about singing in ancient languages in the Library, but he didn't find anything useful.

Eileen's voice broke through his thoughts. "Do you need help with your homework?" - she asked gently, adding the last pieces of wood they had into the stove.

"Not particularly." – Severus replied dryly. But after a brief moment of consideration, he decided to ask – "Have you ever heard of ancient magic being practiced through songs?"

His mother stood up, giving him an odd look. After a pause, she approached the table and glanced at his translation.

"That's not something they'd teach in your classes." – she stated matter-of-factly – "Where did you hear about it?"

"So it is a thing." – the boy muttered, taken aback by her response.

"I'm not sure about the specifics." – the witch said softly – "Your grandfather had a much broader knowledge in that area. But what I do know is that this method is incredibly complex. When you create an incantation for a ritual, you choose the right words to accomplish the task. Adding a melody on top of that is extremely challenging. The notes form a separate language of their own, and you must understand how to make them work in harmony with your words. Only a few witches and wizards possessed those skills in ancient times, and it's believed they descended from merpeople."

The room had grown so dark that Severus could barely see. He set down his quill, staring at his mother with newfound intensity. He knew she had a deep understanding of ancient magic and had taught him things about ancient runes that weren't even in books. But until now, he had assumed she was simply passionate about the subject, like he was with Potions. This was the first time she had ever mentioned his grandfather. He had asked her many times about her family, even begged to know her maiden name, but she had always remained silent.

"And what…" – he began, seizing the rare opportunity to ask about his wizarding relatives, when the kitchen door suddenly flung open, and Tobias Snape's hulking figure filled the doorway. The unmistakable stench of cheap alcohol hit Severus, making him nearly gag.

"Why's it so dark in 'ere? Are you two that lazy ya can't even be bothered t' switch t' lights on?" – the man grumbled, stumbling into the room with unsteady steps.

"They cut off our power... we couldn't pay the bill this month." – Eileen answered meekly. 

"Damn bastards!" – Tobias roared, his anger flaring – "Course I can't pay! There's no good jobs an' you keep leechin' off me! When's this one gonna start makin' some money, then?"

"Severus is still too young to work." – the woman said nervously – "But he's got such good grades... he'll find a great job when he graduates." 

"Great job?" – he husband sneered – "Like what? Joinin' a freak show? He's good fer nowt. Never 'ad any mates, got beat all t' time... only way 'e's gettin' near a lass is if 'e turns into one 'imself for some daft sod!"

Severus' fists clenched, his rage finally boiling over. "Even then, I'd be ten times the man you are!" - he hissed.

Tobias' eyes narrowed dangerously as he stepped toward his son. "What did ya just say, ya little bastard?" - his voice was low and menacing.

"Don't fight please!" – Eileen intervened immediately, rushing between them, holding a bowl of canned beans like a shield – "It's Christmas Eve! Severus, apologise to your father!"

"What's this, then? Some kinda minging slop?" – Tobias asked, peering into the bowl, the dim light making its contents barely visible.

"Oh! I was given some cans at the church today!" – the woman said, trying to sound cheerful – "It's not much, but it's food. We won't starve tonight."

The next moment came like a thunderclap. The sound of pottery shattering echoed through the room, followed by Eileen's sharp scream as Tobias backhanded her across the face. She staggered, crashing into the wall, the bowl lying smashed on the floor near her.

"Bloody wench!" – he roared– "Ya can't even make sure there's owt for me t' eat when I get 'ome! Why don't ya jump from somewhere! I feel sick just lookin' at ya! Ya look like me gran!"

In that moment, something snapped inside Severus. Without thinking, he grabbed a nearby chair and swung it with all his might into his father's back. The chair shattered, sending splinters flying, but the result was far from what he had hoped. Tobias grunted, turning with fury, and without hesitation, punched Severus hard in the face. The blow sent him crashing to his knees, pain shooting through his body.

Ignoring the blood pouring from his nose, the boy forced himself back up, his eyes blazing with hatred.

"At least ya know 'ow t' take a punch. Yer already better than yer mam!" – the man laughed, swinging his fist again, but this time Severus dodged and kicked his father in the shin as hard as he could.

"Ya fucking tosser!" – Tobias howled in pain, managing to grab hold of Severus' clothes and hurl him against the wall. The boy saw his father advancing, fists raised, ready to strike again. But before he could land another blow, the young wizard drew his wand, pointing it directly at his dad's face.

The man froze. Even in the dim light, his fear was unmistakable, mixed with pure disdain.

"Not so brave now, are you?" – Severus taunted, his voice icy – "Get the fuck out of here, and don't come back. If you do, I can't promise you'll leave alive. I can make you feel pain like you've never imagined. Or maybe I'll slice off your arms and legs with a spell that'll make you bleed slowly for days. Don't think I won't do it. You're just a filthy Muggle, and there're girls at school who hit harder than you."

His victorious rant, however, was cut short when Tobias lunged at him with a surprising burst of speed, gripping his wrist so tightly that Severus heard the bone crack. His wand flew out of his hand, clattering across the floor. With a cruel chuckle, the man flung his son toward the kitchen sink. The boy groaned in pain, realising he had likely broken a rib. Struggling to his feet, he looked up at his father, whose face was half-shadowed by the fading light filtering through the cracked window above the sink.

In that moment, Severus knew he might not make it out alive.

Tobias grabbed a knife from the counter, swinging it toward his son with lethal intent.

Suddenly, the window above the sink shattered as a powerful gust of wind ripped through the room, sending shards of glass into Tobias' face and knocking him backward. Seizing the moment, Severus bolted for the front door, his heart pounding.

He ran as fast as his legs would carry him, finally collapsing when he reached the rickety wooden bridge that stretched over the filthy river. Gasping for breath, the young wizard clutched his side, which throbbed with sharp, unrelenting pain. It was already completely dark. The water below, usually sluggish and shallow, had swelled, its relentless currents rumbling ominously as they overflowed the banks. Debris-filled waves carried fallen branches, garbage, and silt in their wake, while the freezing air bit at his skin. Severus' laboured breaths escaped in wisps of silver mist, his body trembling in the bitter cold.

"D'ya think ya can hide from me, you little ugly bastard?" – Tobias' low chuckle cut through the silence, startling the young wizard, who was barely clinging to consciousness. The injuries he'd suffered, combined with days of hunger, made him feel faint as he struggled to rise and face his father.

"I should've done this a long time ago, ya know." – the man spat, his voice dripping with hatred – "Ya ruined my life! For a while, I thought ya were me punishment for shaggin' a clatty, clingy trollop like yer mam who's good for nowt. But nah, I were wrong. It were yer fault! Yours and yer mam's!"

Severus, panting, forced himself to speak through the fog of pain. "And what exactly is my fault? I don't have a single good memory of you. You tortured me and Mum so you could feel less of a failure."

Tobias sneered, his eyes narrowing to dark, soulless pits. "Aye, I failed alright! I failed t' have a son worthy o' me name. Instead, I ended up wi' a weakling like you. But that's a mistake that can be fixed."

He reached into his coat, pulling out a rusty, old gun, pointing it straight at Severus.

The boy stiffened, numbness creeping over his body. A part of him had always expected this. With the way his dad despised him, it felt inevitable. Would Lily mourn when she heard? His classmates would probably find it hilarious—Severus Snape, killed by a Muggle.

'Is he going to kill Mum, too?' – the young wizard wondered, the thought strangely distant – 'What's the point? I'll never accomplish anything. I can only hope to remain the Lucius Malfoy's half-blood bootlicker.'

The image of the former Slytherin flashed in Severus' mind—draped in expensive robes, casually sipping wine at Slughorn's party, with Catherine Plantier awkwardly perched on the arm of his chair.

'I can't believe the last person I'll think of is that blasted girl.' – Severus thought bitterly, as a surge of uncontrollable anger welled inside him.

Without warning, a violent gust of wind howled through the air, and a massive wave of murky water rose from the river, crashing over the bridge. Tobias, caught off guard, was hurled against the stone walls of the riverbank with a sickening force, his body tossed aside and left crumpled in the mud. Severus stood frozen, wide-eyed, staring at the mangled remains of the man who had once been his father. Blood oozed silently into the dirt, mingling with the grime as the water retreated.

"Severus!" – his mother's voice pierced the haze, pulling him back to reality. She grabbed his hand and tried to pull him away. When he finally tore his gaze from Tobias' lifeless body, Severus saw his mom crying quietly. Her lip was split, and her hair hung wildly around her face.

"I'm so sorry, my son!" – Eileen sobbed – "We need to leave. It'll be bad if the Muggle police find us here. Come, don't look at him anymore!"

She gently tugged Severus away, feeling him tremble uncontrollably. Casting one last glance back at her dead husband, Eileen looked up at the sky. For a brief moment, her violet eyes gleamed in blue as heavy snowflakes began to fall, covering the mud.

Once the mother and son had vanished into the night, a tall figure with white hair appeared, stepping out of the shadows without a sound. His fine clothing was sharply out of place against the bleak, impoverished landscape. The man stood over Tobias' body, observing it for a few moments, before disappearing once again into the darkness. The wind howled, burying the Muggle's twisted corpse beneath a fresh, pristine blanket of white snow.