"We're here. Goodbye."
The words came gruffly from an elderly man whose hair and beard shimmered like metallic thread.
"Thank you, Mr. Aberforth. Really, thank you."
Snape steadied himself, murmuring his gratitude. Of all people, he hadn't expected Aberforth Dumbledore to be the one escorting him back to Spinner's End.
As Aberforth vanished with a soft crack, Snape picked up a large birdcage and a box of owl treats, and made his way home.
Bang—
He had barely knocked once when the door flew open with a jolt.
Eileen stood just inside, worry etched into her face.
Snape raised the cage quickly. "Look at this. It's a Horned Owl, the finest in Eeylops Owl Emporium."
The owl, ruffled and curious, poked its head out from under a wing and fluffed its feathers. It hooted at Eileen with a mournful sort of pride.
She took the cage but her eyes were still searching his face.
"You're alright? I got a letter from Dumbledore last night. Said you two needed to talk."
"Oh, that." Snape set the box of treats on the table. "I ran into him in Diagon Alley. We talked about career paths. I haven't made up my mind yet, so he wanted me to think carefully about my N.E.W.T. subjects."
He yawned and rubbed his eyes. "It was getting late, so I stayed over at the Leaky Cauldron. Didn't sleep much—beds are like stone slabs."
He turned toward the stairs. "I need a nap. Talk later."
Tap, tap, tap.
Snape looked up at the window. A large owl was rapping its beak insistently against the glass of the sitting room.
He set down the half-packed trunk and opened the latch.
The owl swooped in, folded its wings with haughty grace, and landed on the wooden table, extending one leg with a certain practiced arrogance.
Snape untied the large, square envelope. His name was written across it in sharp ink.
"Who's it from?" Eileen asked, offering a few owl treats to the feathered courier.
Snape tore it open and unfolded the parchment.
"Ah—my O.W.L. results!"
Ordinary Wizarding Level Examination Results
Passing Grades: Outstanding (O), Exceeds Expectations (E), Acceptable (A)
Failing Grades: Poor (P), Dreadful (D), Troll (T)
Severus Snape's Results:
Astronomy: A
Care of Magical Creatures: E
Charms: O
Defence Against the Dark Arts: O
Divination: E
Ancient Runes: O
Transfiguration: O
History of Magic: P
Herbology: O
Potions: O
He handed the parchment to Eileen. "Only failed History of Magic. Six Outstandings!"
"I failed History too…" she muttered, but smiled as she read. "You did brilliant. Nine subjects passed. We should go out for dinner. This calls for celebration."
The next few days passed with Snape slowly packing, intermittently thumbing through old books he'd brought back. Eileen helped when she was home, but more often she was out at the new place she'd just bought. She refused to say where, insisting it was a surprise.
Just before term began, she finally finished setting up.
"All packed? We're moving in tomorrow!" she said brightly, closing the door behind her.
Snape slumped against the banister. "I've been packed for days. Still won't tell me where we're going?"
"You'll see. I promise you'll like it. First thing in the morning."
"Fine. I'm going out for a walk."
Snape wandered out, crossing the rusted railing near the back alley and entering a half-abandoned playground painted with the gold of the setting sun. A towering chimney loomed far off in the distance, a relic of forgotten industry.
The playground was deserted. Weeds grew from the cracks in the tarmac, reaching up past his ankles. Torn plastic bags danced lazily in the breeze, caught on broken swings that hung crooked and silent.
The wooden seats were split and faded to grey. Only the occasional sigh of wind stirred them into creaking whispers.
He drifted past, over a thin stream and into the woods beyond. His feet led him forward, no destination in mind.
"Evening, Severus."
The voice broke his trance. He looked up and found himself outside the Evans' family home.
"Uh—good evening, Mr. Evans."
Mr. Evans had just shut the car door. Looked like he'd just got home from work.
"It's been a while. You've changed a lot, Severus."
"Er… is Lily home?" Snape asked, hesitating.
"She and her mother are out of town. But Petunia's here," Mr. Evans said cheerily. "You want to see her?"
Snape blinked. "Could I?"
"Of course! I'll go fetch you both something to eat."
Before Snape could protest, Mr. Evans unlocked the door and drove off with a wave.
Through the hallway, Snape saw Petunia curled up on the sofa, watching television.
He stepped in. "Petunia."
She turned. When she saw who it was, she shot up like she'd been stung.
"What the hell are you doing here?!"
She looked ready to scream, and her face twisted in revulsion.
"I came to apologise," Snape said quietly. He stopped just inside the threshold.
"I don't want your apology!"
She grabbed the nearest book and hurled it at him. It caught the side of his head with a thud. He swayed but didn't dodge.
Blood bloomed at his temple, red and vivid.
A flicker of panic flashed in her eyes. Her clenched fists dropped to her sides.
"If it makes you feel any better… then I'm glad," he said. Inside, he smiled. She'd thrown the book. That was what he needed.
"Why didn't you dodge?!"
She stormed into the kitchen, rummaged in a cabinet, and tossed a roll of bandages at him.
"Thanks." He pressed it to the cut, voice level. "It's nothing. Just a scratch."
"I had to come. I leave Spinner's End tomorrow. Far away."
"That's not my problem," she snapped.
"No. It isn't. But I was a bastard. I thought I was special. Truth is, I was just a stupid kid."
"I hit you with a stick. Spied on the letter Dumbledore wrote you." Her scowl deepened, so he added quickly, "All of it was wrong. I hurt you. I'm sorry."
A car rumbled up outside.
Snape pressed the cloth to his head and moved toward the door. "I have to go. Don't let Mr. Evans see me like this. If he asks, say I went home."
He paused at the door.
"And Lily's not a freak. She's your sister."
Petunia looked as if she'd swallowed an entire lemon.