001 - Spinner's End
'Again.'
'It was always the same.'
The room was dark, damp, and falling apart.
A hook-nosed man was shouting at a woman shrinking in on herself, spitting abuse. Useless. Trash. The insults poured out in a furious stream. The woman's face tightened, but she never fought back.
A black-haired boy hid in the corner, crying silently. He clamped both hands over his ears, trying to shut out a scene that had become horribly familiar, one that hurt worse every time.
Of course, he failed.
The argument went on. The man did not even bother to glance at him. He kept hurling abuse at the boy's mother.
Severus Snape did not even want to call the hook-nosed man his father.
He did not understand.
His mother was a witch.
'Why did Mum cower like this? Why was she afraid of a Muggle who did not even have the right to hold a wand?'
The boy's hands clenched. He thought of the drawer in his room.
His mother's wand was there.
'One hex. Just one simple hex. I'd read enough about them in Mum's books, hadn't I?'
Even the simplest hex would be enough to teach that man a lesson. It would show him that wizards were not people Muggles could bully whenever they pleased.
'Wizards were meant to stand above Muggles.'
His fists clenched and unclenched. The urge grew stronger.
The man noticed. Without thinking, he snatched up something nearby and hurled it at him.
"You damned little thing!" he roared. "All you do is eat the food I work myself to the bone to put on the table. You've got magic, haven't you? That bloody magic of yours?
"Go on, then!
"Steal something. Rob someone if you have to. Just bring back some money!"
He was too slow to dodge. Pain flared through his arm. His mother grabbed her husband and pleaded, "Don't hit him. He's only a child. Please, don't hit him."
The heat in his chest died.
He held his arm, hurried around them, and fled through the front door.
He ran.
'Weak. Just like Mum.'
He stumbled out into the street and wandered without seeing where he was going.
This was Spinner's End, a street in Cokeworth.
A foul place. A slum. A rubbish heap.
There was no hope here. Not in the street, and not in his house.
Perhaps a wonderful life at Hogwarts was waiting for him, but that was still some time away, and his patience was already wearing thin.
He wanted to escape.
To escape this dark life.
A broken home left damage that was hard to mend, especially in a child too young to escape it. No matter how far he wandered, he still had to return to the place outsiders called home, the place he knew as hell.
He drifted through the maze of narrow alleys, past rows of shabby houses, across the cobblestones underfoot.
He did not know how long he walked before he came back to himself.
Then he thought of the girl he had been watching for so long. Her brilliant red hair. Her happy smile.
'Would she be there today?'
'Would she be with that ignorant, hateful sister of hers?'
'Would she be playing on the swings again?'
He did not know. But his steps quickened.
Even if it was only a scrap of hope, even if there was only the faintest chance, he had to try.
He had to chase the only bit of light he had ever found in all that darkness.
Beyond a thick hedge, in a small and nearly empty playground, two girls were on the swings.
The younger one swung higher and higher, even higher than the older girl. Hidden in the bushes, Snape felt relief flood through him, and longing showed on his face before he could stop it.
"Lily, don't!"
The older girl suddenly shrieked.
But the little girl let go at the very top of her swing and flew.
She did not fall.
She truly flew.
Laughing, she flung herself into the air. Instead of crashing onto the tarmac, she sailed through the air like an acrobat, staying aloft far longer than was reasonable before landing lightly on her feet.
"Mum told you not to do that!"
Petunia dragged her shoes along the ground to stop her swing, making a sharp, grating screech. Then she jumped off, planted her hands on her hips, and said, "Mum said you're not allowed, Lily!"
"But I'm fine."
Lily was still giggling, and from the bushes Snape's mouth twitched into a rare smile.
"Petunia, look at this. Watch what I can do."
Petunia glanced around. The playground was empty except for the two of them. Once she seemed sure no one could see them doing anything strange, she stepped closer, curious and resentful all at once.
When Petunia was near enough to see, Lily opened her hand. The petals in her palm opened and closed, again and again, like some strange, many-lipped oyster.
"Stop it!"
Petunia shrieked.
"I'm not doing anything to you."
Lily said it lightly, but she still crushed the flower in her hand and threw it to the ground.
"That's not right," Petunia said.
But her eyes followed the fallen flower and lingered there. After a moment, she asked, unable to hide the longing in her voice, "How do you do it?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
Perhaps it was the rotten day he had just had. Perhaps it was a sudden impulse, sharpened by his contempt for this stupid Muggle girl. Whatever the reason, Snape did not stay hidden and silent as he usually did.
He jumped out of the bushes.
Petunia screamed and ran toward the swings.
Lily was startled too, but she did not move.
Snape seemed to regret showing himself almost at once. Maybe he was afraid Lily would never come back to the playground, that he would lose the only light he had.
But he did not run again.
This was the closest he had ever been to Lily.
He looked at her, a faint flush creeping over his sallow cheeks.
"What's obvious?" Lily asked, bewildered but curious.
He was nervous and excited all at once. His fingers picked at the oversized, shabby coat hanging from his shoulders. He glanced at Petunia, who was hovering by the swings, then lowered his voice.
"I know what you are."
"What do you mean?" Lily asked.
"You're... you're a witch," Snape whispered.
Lily looked insulted. With a word like that, how could she not?
"That's a rude thing to call someone!"
She turned, chin high, and started marching back toward her sister.
"No!"
Panic flashed through him. His face went red as he chased after the two girls.
The way his sleeves flapped made him look like a foolish bat, but he did not take the coat off. Maybe he was afraid of showing the smock-like blouse underneath.
Both sisters stared at him with matching displeasure. Each had a hand wrapped around one of the swing set's metal supports, as if it were a safe base in a game of tag.
"You are," Snape told Lily. "You are a witch.
"I've been watching you for a while. There's nothing wrong with it. My mum's a witch. I'm a wizard."
Petunia gave a scornful laugh.
"A wizard!" she cried. "I know who you are. You're that Snape boy!
"They live down by the river, on Spinner's End."
She told Lily this like it was a warning. "Why were you spying on us?"
"I wasn't spying," Snape said.
He was excited and uneasy, and in the bright sunlight his hair looked especially dirty.
"I wouldn't spy on you," he added with a sneer. "You're a Muggle."
Petunia clearly did not know what the word meant, but she understood his tone well enough.
"Lily, come on. We're leaving!" she said sharply.
Lily obeyed at once, turning to go with her sister, though she kept glaring at Snape. She had understood his tone too.
He stood there watching them leave, his eyes fixed mostly on Lily. Pain and disappointment welled up inside him.
He had planned this moment for so long. Now every beautiful version of it he had imagined had slipped away, and everything was sinking back into the same heavy darkness.
"He's right."
A voice called from nearby.
All three of them jumped and looked toward the hedge.
A small boy stood there, though none of them had noticed when he arrived. His clothes were worn enough to show that his family was not well-off, but his jacket and shirt were neat and clean, completely unlike Snape's.
Two daffodils floated at the same height, one on either side of him.
Maybe the boy looked more convincing. Maybe the floating flowers simply stunned them. Either way, both sisters stopped and stared at him, open-mouthed.
Snape's face, however, flushed scarlet. The boy had just stepped out of the very hedge where Snape had been hiding. He might know exactly how long Snape had been watching. His lie could be exposed at any moment.
But the boy did not even look at him.
He walked calmly up to the girls. The daffodils beside him drifted forward as if guided by invisible hands and came to a precise halt at chest height before them.
The sisters exchanged a glance, then slowly took the flowers. Petunia looked even more shocked than Lily; her mouth still hung open.
"Beautiful daffodils," the boy said with a gentle smile, "for two even more beautiful young ladies."
Both girls blushed, especially Petunia, who looked almost stunned by the attention.
"Please forgive me for interrupting this little... gathering."
A faint smile tugged at the boy's mouth, as if he knew the word did not quite fit. Then he continued, "Even so, I think it is only fair to say a few words in this gentleman's defense."
He gestured toward Snape, then looked seriously at Lily.
"You are a witch. Just as I am a wizard."
Lily opened her mouth to argue, only to see the daffodil in her hand float up again. It drifted between the two of them before settling gently back into her palm.
"It isn't an insult," the boy said. "The word 'Muggle' isn't one either. It means a non-magical person born to non-magical parents. Witch, wizard, and Muggle are only names for different kinds of people.
"That said, this gentleman's tone was not exactly charming, which is why the misunderstanding happened."
Lily looked down at the daffodil in her hand, thoughtful.
Petunia hesitated, then asked, "What about me?
"Am I a witch too?"
Lily turned toward her in surprise. That was nothing like the attitude Petunia had shown until now.
Petunia flinched, but she still looked at the boy with a small, fragile hope.
He stepped closer and shook his head regretfully.
Before disappointment could settle in, he said, "Magical ability is a gift people are born with, but in many ways, it is also a curse."
"A curse?"
Both sisters were startled.
"Yes," the boy said solemnly. "A curse. If you misuse magic, you can easily hurt yourself or someone else. You don't need to worry too much for now, though," he added quickly.
"That's why, once we turn eleven, we attend a school called Hogwarts. There, we learn to control our magic safely, so we can protect ourselves..."
He turned to Petunia.
"...and our families."
"And learning magic is dangerous too. One careless mistake can hurt someone. A miscast spell or a potion gone wrong can do real harm. That's why we learn under experienced teachers who can step in when something goes wrong."
The boy made magic sound as frightening as he could. By the end, Petunia looked almost relieved to be a Muggle, while Lily had gone pale with alarm.
"Don't listen to him!"
Snape, silent for too long, suddenly shouted. "He's only..."
"I believe," the boy said, raising his voice and cutting Snape off before he could finish, "that this gentleman can explain the details to you properly, if you're willing to hear him out.
"In fact, I think that would be necessary."
He paused.
"For witches and Muggles alike."
The boy faced Snape, his tone now serious.
"After all, I only came over because I heard an argument from a distance. I wasn't here from the start."
He stressed the last sentence far more than he needed to.
Snape froze. His face flushed a blotchy purple-red.
"Of course," the boy went on, "witches and wizards are not in danger every minute of every day, and Muggles can still benefit from certain magical things as well.
"In other words, it may look unfair, but it is not entirely one-sided. We simply see the world differently."
When he finished, the boy stepped back, leaving the three of them together.
Just before he disappeared into the hedge, he turned around again.
"Oh, right. I almost forgot to introduce myself."
He tipped the brim of his newsboy cap with one finger and smiled gently once more.
"Ashworth."
"Callan Ashworth."
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