Chapter Text
Severus loathed the morning mail delivery, something that was well known among the residents of Hogwarts. The owls made themselves right at home in the Great Hall like they owned the gods forsaken place, preening and sh*tting without any regard for the food which sat on the tables just beside them. Not to mention Severus himself was mildly allergic to the damned birds. He could already feel his throat getting itchy and scowled harder at his breakfast.
Severus had, years ago, ordered all those stubborn enough to remain in contact with him despite his repeated attempts at cutting them off to deliver any mail of his via floo or other non-feathery means. Students found sending him owl mail were punished with the harshest severity he could legally administer, and Minerva was kind enough to share her copies of the Daily Prophet with him, thus eliminating the need for any owl interruptions of his own.
Suffice to say, Severus was both surprised and annoyed when one of the mail owls broke away from the flock to land in front of him. He was uncomfortably aware of the way the entire Great Hall went silent, likely wondering which of their peers was going to be hand cleaning the entire dungeon system this time.
Severus glared at the bird for longer than was strictly necessary, debating whether or not Minerva would berate him if he set fire to it, before begrudgingly accepting that of course she would and untying the letter from its leg. The bird flew away again after fulfilling its duty, thank Merlin.
S. Prince, the man with pitch black hair and a hooked nose
Curious. The sender used Prince rather than Snape. Not many knew of his mother’s maiden name, and of those, even fewer knew of his preference for it (None knew he had legally changed it the moment he came of age). There was also the matter of it being addressed to a description rather than his place of residence. It eliminated the students from his list of possible suspects, but left him with no more clues as to who could have sent it.
The handwriting on the envelope was messy and unsteady, ink blots gracing the corners, written by someone who didn’t know how to use a quill. There was no return address and no name attached.
He passed his wand over the envelope with a silent detection charm but it came back clean of any curses or hexes.
Severus pursed his lips into something not quite his typical scowl but equally unpleasant and broke the seal, revealing a short letter written just as messily as the envelope had been.
Severus,
I have thought about sending this letter many times, but I’m always stopped by the memory of our fight. You deserve to hate me for the things I said. I hate myself for it most days. I’m not writing to change your opinion of me, and if you wish to continue hating me after reading through this letter, that is your right, but I beg of you to hear me out.
I apologize for everything I said when we last spoke. I shouldn’t have yelled at you, and I certainly shouldn’t have said I wished we were never family. That isn’t true and never has been. I have always loved you and Lily, regardless of your disinterest towards me, and I will always see you as my older brother. I can hardly convey the weight of my guilt through words, but know that I am so, so sorry, Severus. Anything I can do to make up for my behaviour, I will do so gladly.
However, my son is dying. Vernon had always been physical with me, but I found out today he had been abusing both my boys as well. Today he nearly killed Harry. I killed him, and I don’t regret it, but I can’t take my boys to the hospital without alerting the authorities. I remember you liked potions and was hoping you would help. You are my last hope, Severus. If you decline, I fear he’ll be dead before nightfall tomorrow.
A neighbour dropped my children and I off at Aunt Amelia’s house outside London. The address is enclosed in case you forgot.
Always yours,
Petunia Durs Evans
Severus didn’t realize how hard he’d been gripping the parchment until it ripped into two. He took a short breath and forced his fingers to unclench, allowing the letter to fall onto the table. He stared blankly at the remains.
For the first time in five years, his sister reached out to him, and the first thing she did was… apologize… and ask for help.
Severus had honestly thought he would live the rest of his life without hearing another word from her, being too proud to speak first, slighted as he felt. And while it hurt, after a while, it blended together with his other hurts and became easier to ignore.
He had been abusing both my boys…
He couldn’t ignore that. Even if she hadn’t apologized to him, how could Severus, in good conscience, abandon Petunia and her children to their fates when she herself had helped him when he stood in her position with his own father? Sure, he hadn’t killed his abuser, but he had certainly wanted to.
That’s not even mentioning that her son—Severus’ nephew—was in critical condition. Severus may not have a heart of gold, but he wasn’t completely heartless. He wouldn’t let an innocent child die when he had the power to help, regardless of his complicated feelings towards his mother.
Severus tucked the remains of the letter into his robes and stood with a blank expression.
Every student in the Great Hall was watching him intensely, on the edge of their seats in both fear and anticipation.
He turned away from them, towards the Headmaster. “A personal matter has come up which requires my immediate attention outside of Hogwarts. I will contact you should my business extend past the new year, otherwise I expect to be left alone. Minerva, there are theoretical assignments in my office for this occasion. Whoever is covering my classes will be expected to use those. The students will not brew anything without my supervision.”
An audible sigh of relief rippled over the students when they realized they weren’t in danger.
“My boy,” Albus started, his eyes twinkling in grandfatherly concern, “It’s nearly Christmas. Surely whatever business you have can be postponed until the holidays. The students would surely miss your instruction.”
Severus levelled a glare at the Headmaster. “No, Albus, it cannot wait. I will see you next term.”
Minerva cut off the Headmaster’s retort and stood, worry etched clear as day in the lines of her face. “Is there anything else I can do?”
“Keep Albus off my back,” he muttered, turning on his heel. He exited the Great Hall to pack his things, paying the irate Headmaster no more mind.
—
As soon as his things were packed, Severus flooed to the Leaky Cauldron and called on the Knight Bus to ferry him across the city.
Ordinarily, he wouldn’t let himself be caught dead in that damned bus due to the nausea inducing speeds and dilations, but he couldn’t afford to waste time walking the distance, and he carried no muggle currency on him to pay for other transit. So Severus reluctantly endured the ride, tuning out Shunpike’s rambling with a practised ease, which came from resolutely ignoring the various coworkers that plagued him with useless drivel on the daily.
Thankfully though, due to the aforementioned nauseating speeds, Severus arrived at his destination within ten minutes, forty five minutes after receiving the letter.
Petunia’s godmother lived in a rather secluded neighborhood outside of London. Her house was small and separated from its neighbors by a ring of trees, but it was homey and more than spacious enough to host the people she cared about. An array of wildflowers bloomed freely in the garden and ivy creeped slowly up the sides of the house, but it wasn’t by any means overgrown. It gave the home a whimsical feeling.
Severus knocked on the door.
An middle aged woman answered the door, standing half a head shorter than himself. Her dark red hair was streaked with grey at the temples and her usual laugh lines were pulled down with her frown.
“Ms. Garner.” He nodded to her politely.
“It’s good to see you again, Severus,” Ms. Garner said, ushering him inside. “Petunia said you’d be coming.”
“Her son, how is he?”
“Alive,” she said with a sigh. “His head had stopped bleeding by the time they got here, but he was completely unconscious and wasn’t responding to any sort of sensations. We’ve put him in the spare bedroom. Poor Tuney’s hardly left his side since they arrived.”
She knocked on the door. “Petunia. Your brother’s here.”
Severus shifted uncomfortably. When she opened the door, Petunia looked haggard. Her hair was tangled and thrown carelessly into a low ponytail. Her clothes were wrinkled and askew. Most shocking, though, was her face. There was a slowly scabbing cut on her cheek; a large, dark purple bruise painted her jaw; and another set of nasty bruises around her neck, which were very clearly from someone’s hands. He could see awful memories dancing hauntedly in her eyes, ringed in red and smudged mascara. He couldn’t remember a single time when he’d seen her this discomposed.
He nodded at her, keeping his face neutral. “Petunia.”
She tried offering him a smile in return, but it was weak and quickly fell apart. “Hi, Sev.”
Severus raised his occlumancy shields. If he was going to heal her son, he couldn’t be distracted by his emotions.
“What are his injuries?”
Petunia took a shaky breath and led him into the room. “A head wound and a broken arm at the very least. Vernon threw him against a decorative cabinet handle.”
Her voice held a painful sounding rasp to it, and Severus couldn’t help wincing at the sound. He unshrunk his potions kit and opened it on the end of the child’s bed. Near the opening was a vial of throat soother, which he handed off to Petunia with instructions to sip it slowly.
He moved closer to the child, only now getting close enough to see the spitting image of a young James Potter.
Severus raised his occlumency shields higher.
He took a breath and passed his wand over the child’s body slowly. Several places began to glow in various colours, and Severus catalogued them mentally.
Micro-fracture on the back of the skull, mid to severe concussion, two breaks in the right arm, one cracked rib, three more bruised ribs, minor to severe tissue bruising on nearly everything, improperly healed breaks in the left ankle and right wrist.
Severus bit back a grimace. He cast a stasis spell on the child and dug through his bag for the appropriate potions. He would have to brew a specialized potion to heal the skull fracture, but the rest could be fixed with what he had pre-brewed.
“He’ll be alright, won’t he?” Petunia asked quietly.
Severus nodded. “It shouldn’t take more than a week for him to be fully recovered so long as the potions take correctly. I will need space to brew more in the meantime.”
Petunia shot a look at her godmother who asked, “Would the dining room suffice?”
Severus thought back on his memories of this house as a young teen. The dining room should be enough space and is well ventilated enough not to be a concern. He nodded. “That will work. Thank you, Ms. Garner.”
She rolled her eyes. “Come now, Severus, I’ve been telling you to call me Alyssa for years.”
“So I recall, Ms. Garner,” Severus responded, turning back to his potions to hide his small smile.
“Cheeky sh*t,” Ms. Garner muttered to herself.
Severus spelled a dose of Dreamless Sleep into the child’s stomach and waited a few minutes for it to settle fully. He felt along the boy’s arm, satisfied to feel the bones still in their proper place, then with a few carefully muttered spells, the light blue glow indicating breaks started to fade away as the bones fused back together.
He decided to leave the improperly healed breaks alone for now since they weren’t urgent, and it was something he could assess the necessity of once the boy had woken up.
With that done, he spelled a blood replenisher and a basic nutrition potion into the boy, guessing he probably hadn’t eaten since he’d been injured.
“Petunia, could you help me undress him?”
She nodded shakily and removed the boy’s trousers while Severus cut his shirt away.
This time he couldn’t hide his grimace. The child’s torso was littered with a motley assortment of bruises in various stages of healing, most prominently over his rib cage.
He heard Ms. Garner gag and quietly excuse herself from the room.
Severus glanced up at Petunia. Her face was pinched in anger and her knuckles went white around the trousers in her hands.
“That bastard,” she spat. Severus reached over and put a hand on her shoulder without thinking, startling slightly at the heat in her skin. “A bullet was the least he deserved for hurting my children.”
Severus filed that away for later and focused on the bruising. He had a small container of salve meant to accelerate bruise healing, but not nearly enough it seemed. It was one more thing he would have to make himself.
For the moment, he spread the salve across the boy’s ribs where the bruising was the worst and across his face. He pinned the boy’s bangs back so they wouldn’t get stuck in the sticky ointment, brushing his hand over the famous scar in the process.
It looked more akin to lightning as it lit up the sky rather than the cartoonish sowilo rune it’s usually depicted as in those idiotic children books. Absently, he wondered who had authorized them since they were clearly fictitious given the state of the boy in front of him.
The child’s ribs were wrapped in bandages to keep the salve from rubbing off, and Petunia tucked him under the comforter once Severus signalled he was done.
Severus moved his bag to the dining room and began setting up his equipment.
“How do you fit so much in that bag?” Petunia asked after he pulled out two cauldrons and an entire stack of ingredients, startling Severus who hadn’t realized she’d followed him.
“It’s expanded with magic,” Severus said.
Her face twitched slightly at the word, but she didn’t comment for once. Instead she took a seat at the furthest end of the dining table, the tapping of her foot the only thing betraying her nerves.
“Severus… What does magic feel like? When you’re using it, I mean.”
Severus pursed his lips slightly. He wasn’t sure what she was getting at, but she’d been perfectly polite thus far, so he was making an effort to do the same.
“It’s different for everyone. For me, it’s cold, like an icy river flowing through my veins instead of blood,” he admitted, acutely aware of the frost building on his occlumency shields after such prolonged usage. “My coworker described it as tension being released during a massage.”
“So… feeling like lava was boiling inside of you… that would be normal for someone with magic?”
“Yes,” he answered slowly. “Where did this come from?”
She hunched in on herself, looking down at the table cloth.
Severus narrowed his eyes. “Petunia.”
Petunia bit her lip, but the words rushed out of her. “I think I used magic when Vernon tried to kill us! He shot at Harry and I, but I felt this—this energy burst out! And then the bullet redirected itself and hit Vernon instead!”
“You don’t have magic,” Severus said automatically, immediately pausing as he was confused as to why. Magic being involved was a logical conclusion to draw from the experience she provided. He didn't even think about what she was saying before denying it, which was extremely unlike him.
He frowned, retreating partially into his mind to check his shields. His defences were untouched, but there was a glowing plaque near the end of one row of memories.
“I—I know that, Severus! I know I’m not special like you or—or Lily, but I don’t know what else it could have been!”
Severus’ memories of magic were laid out in a facsimile of the Hogwarts Library, his knowledge of each of the subjects in the place it would be found within the actual library with golden plaques revealing what was in each row.
He touched the engraving that designated what the glowing bookshelf housed: Petunia Evans 1967— 1974. Certain books were locked behind thick glass that shimmered with malignant magic.
“Do you think there might be enough magic inside of me to use even just a little bit?”
His magic hissed at the intrusion and lashed out. Frost crept along the shelf, spreading spiderweb cracks across the glass, which Severus now recognized as the bindings of an obliviate, until it shattered from the extreme chill.
Severus smiled to himself as he watched the two sisters play in the park. The flowers around them seemed brighter than the rest and the breeze tousled their hair like it was playing with them. They were strange, like he was, but he didn’t dare approach them yet.
He hid from his father in a tree, finding the blonde sister reading a book midway up the trunk. The trees branches moved when she did, keeping her from falling despite her precarious balancing. The red headed sister joined them later, and the three quickly became inseparable. Severus made his first friends that day.
Severus sat in a triangle with the two girls, Petunia holding a thick tomb open in her lap. The three of them cut their palms and joined hands, chanting, “Tres nominibus sumus. Sanguinem nostrum obtulilmus Domina Auguratis desuper ut alligamus caritatem. Ligare animas nostras in incantatione. Unam familiam in sanguine esse volimus. Nos alligamus tamquam fratres a die hac.” Petunia and Lily glowed with Lady Magic’s golden light and their palms closed of their own accord as did his own. Severus could feel where his magic now connected to both of theirs, shared blood now running through their veins. They grinned widely at each other in elation.
“This is the lumos charm,” Severus said, demonstrating with a flick of his wand. Petunia watched in awe at the various charms and spells Lily and Severus showed off during their first holiday break at Hogwarts. Eventually, Lily passed over her wand and Petunia tried to replicate some of the charms. Her lumos nearly blinded them both.
Severus went to the Evans’ house the day he received his supply list for second year. Petunia was in tears. She never got her letter.
Severus and Lily went to the Headmaster when term started and asked about Petunia. Albus told them in no uncertain terms that Petunia was non-magical and everything they’d seen up until that point was a delusion of childhood naivety. He’d then offered them each a candy and sent them on their way. Neither of them brought it up again.
By the next holiday, Severus completely ignored Petunia.
Memories flashed through of letters from his younger sister, received over the course of his second and third year. She pleaded with Severus to help her, to find out why she wasn’t like them anymore. Severus responded with hate, and soon she began to respond in kind.
Severus, in the summer between his third and forth years, had a checkup at St. Mungo’s and had numerous compulsions flushed from his system. He spoke with Petunia after and practically begged for her to understand and forgive him, taking her on a trip through Diagon Alley to make up for it. He bought her several enchanted items to take back to her own boarding school. They grew close again in those months, and Severus promised to look into things that would block someone’s magic when he got back to school.
They had both forgotten they had made up by the next holiday, and Severus never fulfilled his promise.
From that time forward, Petunia ignored him too, going so far as to exit the room if he entered. The sight never failed to make his magic scream in anguish, but he never stopped her nor said a single thing about it.
Severus didn’t know why he acted the way he did. She was his sister, and she used to be like him. Why did she stop? Why did he hate her?
A silvery-blue light, and his mind went blank. Petunia doesn’t have magic.
Severus stumbled away from his potions equipment as he came back to himself from the onslaught of suppressed memories, realizing he had started to hyperventilate. Petunia was now in front of him, her hands outstretched as if to steady him.
“What just happened?” she asked nervously.
Severus evened out his breathing and ran a hand over his face. Someone had altered his memories—and he had a sneaking suspicion of who.
With a sigh, he sunk into one of the dining chairs and gestured for her to join him. “In the wixing world, there is a spell that can modify a person’s memories.”
“That’s not illegal?”
“It’s frowned upon, but no, it isn’t illegal. I just had years of stolen memories return at once.” He’ll need to check his memory stores more thoroughly later to make sure he isn’t missing anything else.
Petunia frowned. “Why? What triggered it?”
“Based upon what you told me of your encounter with your husband, it would be reasonable to assume magic was involved. I denied the possibility before considering the evidence.”
“Which is out of character and made you suspicious,” she finished, understanding dawning.
“Precisely. When I noticed the suppressed memories, I corrected the situation and had to relive each memory as it returned, hence my going unresponsive just a moment ago,” Severus explained.
“But why would someone do that? What did you forget?”
“Before I answer, can I cast a charm to reveal if your memory was altered as well?”
Petunia hesitated her face twitching again, before nodding.
Severus conjured a piece of parchment and a quill, casting the charm on both the quill and Petunia to link the two. When the quill un-animated, Severus quickly scanned the results.
Magical Affixes
Spells (in descending strength):
73% efficiency | 95% Magical Core Restriction
15% efficiency | Emotional Compulsion [Resentment, Paranoia; Subject: Magic as an ability and concept ]
Broken | Emotional Compulsion [Jealousy, Resentment, Distrust; Subject: Lily Jade Potter nee Evans, Severus Tobias Snape]
Broken | Emotional Compulsion [Resentment, Hatred, Anger; Subject: Harry James Potter]
Broken | Familial Magic Block
Potions (in descending strength):
100% efficiency | Waters of the Lethe
92% efficiency | Throat Soother
Severus took a deep breath and raised his occlumency shields again.
“Severus?” Petunia prompted him.
“You have several compulsions on you, but most are either weakened or broken already,” Severus answered, turning the parchment towards her.
Petunia traced her fingers along the ink. “‘Magical Core Restriction…’ That means what I think it means, doesn’t it?” she asked, sounding resigned.
“Someone didn’t want you to know you had magic and sealed it away along with any memories of using it. That is what the Waters of the Lethe do; they strip the victim of the desired memories, but more forcefully than when its done by spell.” Severus grimaced. “All of the memories returned to me earlier were either moments where I witnessed you use magic, or moments after you lost it, in which the context was alluded to.”
Petunia looked up sharply. “You mean to say I actually used magic in the past? It wasn’t just a delusion?”
“You were extremely talented with your magic even without formal education,” Severus recalled aloud, finding all of his memories regarding Petunia to flow easier now that the mental blocks were gone. “I’m not sure how much you remember about the day we became siblings, but you were the one who led Lily and I through the blood ritual.”
She grew pale and brought a hand up to rub at her temples. “This is a lot to take in, Severus…”
He had expected as much, but it was better for her to find out sooner rather than later.
“You don’t have to make the decision today, but…” Severus hesitated. Merlin, was he really about to offer this? He and Petunia hardly knew each other anymore. They hadn’t seen each other in five years, and hadn’t truly spoken in almost eight. He felt like such a Gryffindor. He sighed internally. Maybe those years of friendship with Lily and Lupin rubbed off on him more than he’d thought.
Oh well, in for a knut, in for a galleon, as they say.
“If you’d like,” he continued, “I could teach you how to use your magic after you get it unbound.”
Petunia’s eyes grew wide. “It’s reversible?”
Severus frowned. “Of course. All magic exists with an inherent counter; it’s a foundational principle of Magic. One simply needs to look.”
“I—Thank you, Severus, truly.” She wiped at her eyes. “How do I go about getting my core unbound?”
“St. Mungo’s can cleanse the compulsions and binding in two hours.” He paused. “Actually, now that I think of it, it may be better to bring Potter to St. Mungo’s as well. They’re more likely to have the potions he needs on hand, rather than having to wait for them to brew.”
“St. Mungo’s is the wixing hospital?”
“Yes. In any other situation, it would be unwise to bring Potter into the wixing world due to his fame; however, St. Mungo’s healers are bound by magical oath to keep all information they learn confidential.”
Petunia bit her lip. “But they would be able to heal him faster?”
“They would,” Severus confirmed. “I’m not certified as a Healer. I only know my way around healing magic as well as I do because of the war. I would trust them far more than myself to handle Potter’s remaining injuries.” He grimaced, trying to find a better way to explain his hesitance. “Head wounds are tricky. Using wand magic to heal them can be dangerous, but doing nothing could be even worse. Potions and rituals are the only reliable and safe ways to treat a head injury. While I could brew the potion myself, it has a brewing time of three days.”
“And Harry could die in that time,” Petunia finished, one hand over her mouth. With a determined set to her jaw, she nodded decisively. “Take him to St. Mungo’s.”
Severus inclined his head in agreement. How best to get there though? The Knight Bus was out for obvious reasons, as was apparation. Merlin only knew where the nearest floo was. That left exactly zero safe, public transportation systems.
“Does Ms. Garner have a car?”
His hopes were crushed when Petunia shook her head. “It’s in the shop being repaired.”
“And the muggle bus doesn’t run through this neighborhood,” Severus murmured to himself.
…call upon Magic’s assistance……
Severus blinked rapidly. What?
“Did you hear that?” Petunia whispered.
Severus slowly nodded, casting a general detection spell but sensing no additional beings in the house.
“Call upon Magic,” she repeated to herself. “Do you know what that means, Severus?”
Going out on a limb and hoping the deity wouldn’t get too upset with him, Severus prayed to Lady Magic. “Um, Lady Magic? We request a quick way to transport Petunia Evans, Harry Potter, and myself to St. Mungo’s hospital without upsetting any injuries. Please,” he hastily added.
The air around him warmed almost to the point of being painful, and Severus had a single second to think he’d majorly f*cked up before he was suddenly in the St. Mungo’s receiving room. Petunia stood next to him, Potter perched on her side, still unconscious, but otherwise not jarred by the abrupt relocation.
She winced, shifting her weight off her left foot, and her grip on the child tightened immediately. “What the hell just happened?”
Severus could only gawk in disbelief. The last time Lady Magic had personally answered a call for assistance from wixen was during the days of the Hogwarts Founders, and even when magical people were on the edge of extinction, She only granted them warding for the school. Severus just asked for an easy way to the hospital and found himself there in an instant!
Merlin… He didn’t typically pray to the deity of Magic as his mother’s preferred patron had been Secrecy, but he prayed right then. He didn’t know what the display meant for him, but letting it go unthanked was just asking to be struck down.
They appeared at the hospital’s apparation point, which was mercifully empty at the moment. The receptionist looked annoyed by their continued presence in the lobby, so Severus approached the desk.
“Name and reason for visit?” they asked boredly.
“Segreti,” Severus answered, using his typical alias for non-official visits. “We wish to see a healer and cursebreaker regarding abuse relating injuries and magical blocks.”
The receptionist pinched their lips together. Severus could tell his blunt tone made them uncomfortable, but he didn’t care.
“Room 104. A Healer will meet you there shortly. Our Magical-Binding Specialist, however, is on vacation and will not be returning until the 18th of October.”
Severus scowled and turned away, ushering his sister down the hall towards the correct room.
They waited in silence for almost ten minutes before the healer finally arrived.
The Healer who entered was fairly average looking with sandy blonde hair and dark eyes, but something struck Severus as familiar. He gave them a bright smile. “Hi guys. My name is Healer Ted Tonks. I’ll be taking care of you guys today. Now, can you tell me what happened?”
Severus hung his head in defeat. Was he cursed? Was that why this sh*t kept happening to him?
“My son was hurt by my former husband. Severus was able to heal some of his injuries, but not everything.”
Tonks nodded along. “Can you just lay him down on the bed here? I’d like to have a closer look.” He audibly gasped when Potter’s face shifted into view. “Merlin’s beard… Harry?”
Petunia glanced over at Severus in worry and he sighed. “Tonks, I trust you know to keep this information to yourself?”
“Of course, Severus.” Severus scowled. “Don’t give me that look. I picked it up from Andi.”
Severus crossed his arms, resisting the urge to pout like a child. He was a grown man. He would not throw a tantrum over people using his first name, no matter how much he wanted to hex the man.
“Back to the point, I am physically unable to share any information regarding a patient, and even then, Lily and James were good friends of ours. I would never betray their trust like that,” Tonks said earnestly.
“Merlin, you’re such a Hufflepuff,” Severus grumbled. “ This is Lily’s sister, Petunia. Now, can you get on with it? My stasis spell won’t last forever.”
That snapped the Healer back into focus and he cast a rapid array of diagnostic spells. His face grew pale, and he cast a stronger stasis spell over the child.
“What is it?” Petunia asked, wringing her hands in worry.
“I’m going to be incredibly honest with you, ma’am. It is a miracle that Harry has stayed alive long enough to reach the hospital.”
Petunia paled.
“If I had to guess, his internal magic is the only thing keeping him alive. It’s trying to heal him, but his core isn’t strong enough to sustain the amount of magic needed for the severity of injuries he has, and it’s rendered him into a comatose-like state,” Tonks explained. “Severus, what healing did you perform before?”
“I gave him a blood replenisher and healed his broken bones.”
Tonks nodded approvingly. “Good. That would have taken some of the strain off his magic and allowed him to focus fully on the head wound. I think so long as his head heals properly, the only lingering side effects would be the magical exhaustion and maybe a migraine issue in the future.”
He stood to his full height. “Now, I think it would be best to do a ritual healing for Harry. While it would take a bit longer, it would heal everything at once, rather than having to stagger his treatment based on potion compatibility. Is that alright with you, Ms. Petunia?”
Petunia looked lost, so Severus nodded for her. “Do it.”
“Alright,” Tonks nodded. “I’ll have a team set up the ritual circle and be back in a few minutes. The stasis spell should hold, but if it doesn’t, let someone know, and I’ll come reapply it.”
—
The ritual went smoothly. All injuries were healed, and Harry’s vitals looked stable again.
Tonks moved Harry into a separate ward where he would stay until he woke up—the hospital wanted to monitor him just in case—and returned to speak with Severus and Petunia privately.
“I just want you to know, Andromeda and I are always here to help if you need anything,” Tonks promised. “Harry used to love it when Andi would babysit him, especially when our daughter Nymphadora tagged along. She still thinks of him as her little cousin.”
Petunia gave him a weak smile. “Thank you, Healer Tonks. I’ll keep that in mind.”
He smiled back. “I won’t keep you any longer. I’m sure you’ve got other things to do.”
“He seems nice,” Petunia remarked as he walked away.
“He’s a nuisance.”
“You used to think that about everyone, Severus.”
“Most of the time it was true.”
Petunia just shook her head. “We should be getting back soon. We didn’t exactly tell Auntie where we were going.”
Severus grimaced, but that reminded him of how they ended up at St. Mungo’s to begin with. He needed to ask someone about it before he broke some cosmic law he didn’t know about. “I have an errand I need to run in Diagon Alley first.”
“How long will it take?” she asked.
“I’m unsure.” To the goblins, time is money, so their affairs are typically wrapped up quickly, but then again, after his experience earlier that day, he wasn’t sure ‘typical’ could be relied upon.
“I’ll call Alyssa, then meet you there then. The way in is through that pub, right? The Faulty Cauldron?”
“The Leaky Cauldron,” Severus corrected. “The barman can let you in. I’ll be at Gringotts bank. It’s the large marble building at the end of the street.”
—
The goblin guards looked at him oddly as he approached the bank, moving from their typical, fully stationary post to stare openly at him as he passed them by. Severus frowned and kept moving forward, shivering slightly as the magic of the bank’s wards washed over him. Even then, he felt the weight of their eyes follow until the doors closed behind him.
What the hell was that about?
He joined the nearest teller line and busied himself by picking stray bits of dirt from the carvings on his wand. Severus often thought it poetic; a wood that only reaches its true potential by seeing its owner through extreme hardship being paired with the feather of a prophetic bird that has foretold death across centuries of legends.
On those days where his grief threatens to overwhelm his thoughts, Severus often wonders if his wand was a prophecy of its own. Augury feather was an uncommon core after all; Ollivander had only the one wand stocked when Severus bonded with it. Did the wandmaker foresee Severus’ descent into the dark and tragic when he crafted it? Did he know the young boy who teared up in joy when his wand connected to his magic for the first time would one day lead to the deaths of all those closest to him from a single prophecy repeated to the wrong person?
Someone cleared their throat, startling Severus from his thoughts. A goblin courier gestured for him to step out of the line.
Severus frowned. “Have I done something wrong?”
“The Horde wishes to speak with you in private.”
That was more worrying than Severus having committed an unknown crime. From the incredulous looks from the other patrons in the queues near him, they thought much the same.
“May I ask what for?”
“It is better discussed in private, sir.”
f*ck concerned, Severus genuinely feared for his life. No goblin was respectful to a wand user unless they had to be. For all that the wixing world considered goblins to be beneath them, it shouldn’t be forgotten the Goblin Nation thought much the same of them.
Severus inclined his head at the courier and stepped out of the queue.
An older man near him patted his shoulder sympathetically. “You’ll be missed, lad.”
He sincerely doubted that. Severus shrugged the stranger’s hand off his shoulder and followed the goblin down a series of twisting corridors until he was ushered into an open room similar in decoration to a conference room.
A long table stretched horizontally across the room. The only four chairs were on the opposite side and already occupied by three important looking goblins and what looked to be a fae.
The center most goblin—the Goblin King, Severus abruptly realized—wore a deep blue robe with resplendent white gold accents and a crown of intricately fused, rune-carved bones with gleaming jewels inset sat atop a mostly bald head. The other two goblins wore sharp suits like the tellers aboveground, only in a sapphire blue colour rather than red and white, with their dark red hair tied back in intricate braids. The fae was draped in a shimmering white cloth that rippled like water when they moved, their eyes an unnaturally vibrant sea green, sclera and all, with a slit pupil and their pointed ears sharp like knives. Silver vines wrapped around their upper arms like snakes and their iridescent hair was interwoven with beads and jewellery of shifting shapes and colours.
Severus bowed deeply, now even more confused than before. He was not important enough to be meeting with the f*cking Goblin King! No wixen has ever been in the King’s presence long enough to even learn his name! And he didn’t know the internal hierarchy of the fae, but the one in front of him seemed to be fairly high in the ranks.
“Your majesty, this is he who triggered the alert,” the courier said, bowing low and quickly exiting the room.
“Rise,” the King commanded. Severus did so quickly. “You have been touched personally by Mother Magic as no wixen has since the days of Merlin and Morgana. Explain yourself, wixen.”
“I was hoping it could be explained to me,” Severus admitted hesitantly. “I originally came here in the hopes the Goblin Nation would be more knowledgeable of what had occurred than I found myself to be.”
“And what did occur?”
“I was called upon to heal a child, but was unable to do so entirely, and thus needed transport to St. Mungo’s. I was in a muggle area, however, and there were no other safe transportation methods avaliable to me, so I called upon Lady Magic for assistance. She transported myself, the child, and the child’s guardian to St. Mungo’s.”
The fae narrowed their eyes at Severus, thin lips curling into a disgusted sneer. “You invoked the Great Mother and expected Her to cater to a mortal’s whim?”
“No,” Severus denied. He knew better than that. “A voice spoke to my sister and I and directed us to call upon Her. I did so with the expectation my request would go ignored, as most do. I did not anticipate that Lady Magic would actually fulfill it, much less so succinctly,” Severus answered honestly.
The fae calmed at that, thank Merlin.
The Goblin King looked contemplative of his words though. “When you say a voice spoke to you, what did it sound like?”
Severus paused for a moment. Pulling the memory to the forefront of his mindscape, he recalled the gentle chill that rushed through his body when it spoke, like the relief of the first autumn breeze after a scorching summer. It spoke to him with the same fondness Severus remembered from his earliest memories of his mother, where he mattered more to her than anyone else in the world.
“It sounded like… Home,” he answered at last, feeling slightly silly putting it to words.
“How did it feel to hear the voice?”
“I felt settled, more calm than I’ve been in… probably my whole life. It was like I found something I didn’t know I was missing.”
The King steepled his fingers in front of his face. “You said your sister heard it as well?”
“She did,” he confirmed after a second’s hesitation. He still didn’t know what exactly was going on and was hesitant to potentially endanger Petunia, however he was outnumbered one to five, and he did not want to know how the Goblin King gained his title.
“Interesting… I will need to speak with her as well. Courier!” The King bellowed out. The goblin from before reentered with a bow. “Wixen, you will give this courier the description of your sister and she shall be escorted here at once.”
It was not a request. Severus gave his sister’s description as requested, and within ten minutes (in which he awkwardly stood in silence as the three goblin and the fae assessed him), Petunia was brought into the conference room, fear evident on her face.
“Severus, what is going on,” Petunia demanded in a whisper.
“I have no idea; just roll with it,” he whispered back. “Answer honestly but don’t give any names to the fae. Also, bow; That’s the Goblin King.”
Her eyes widened and she quickly fell into a bow.
“Rise. You are this wixen’s sister, yes?” The King confirmed.
“Not legally, but yes? I suppose so, at least.”
The Goblin King rolled his eyes and waved a hand dismissively. “Legality doesn’t matter so long as Mother Magic sees your bond as legitimate.”
“We performed a blood ritual as children with the purpose of becoming siblings,” Severus cut in.
Nodding in acceptance, the King continued. “You heard a voice telling you to call upon Mother Magic.”
“Yes. Do you know what it was?” she asked.
The fae smirked, revealing just a hint of their razor sharp teeth. Petunia paled at the sight, clenching her fists at her side.
“How did the voice make you feel?” the King asked again, ignoring her question for now.
“I don’t know,” Petunia remarked with a slight frown. “It wasn’t like anything I’d ever heard before. I almost felt like it was… calling me to chase after it. When it was gone, I felt unbearably lonely.”
The goblin to the left of the King murmured something in the goblin tongue. The goblin to the King’s right hummed, examining Severus and Petunia in silence for what felt like half an hour but was likely only a few minutes before nodding decisively.
The Goblin King raised his chin, responding in their tongue.
The first goblin raised a long wooden box onto the table, clicking it open to reveal a curved staff of silver lime tree wood wrapped in living vines and flowers.
“Both of you, please touch the staff.” The King gestured them forward. He and Petunia shared an uneasy glance, then reached out simultaneously.
The moment his hand touched the rough wood, he felt a tug in his navel and golden-white light blinded him until he squeezed his eyes shut. When it faded, Severus found himself on the ground, overwhelming light surrounding him on all sides, but no longer shining straight into his eyes.
He wasn’t in Gringotts any longer. He wasn’t… anywhere.
All around him, walls of mist rose high into the sky until they faded away, bright colours flitting through like an ever-shifting rainbow. Streams of silver and gold pulled away from one wall to weave and twist through the open air until they found another wall to join.
Severus was weightless, unsupported by solid ground and unbothered by gravity. He looked down, but only saw mist continuing further downward, no visible support beneath him. He took a cautious step forward, and though he stepped onto nothing, he continued to find stable footing.
He passed a hand along one of the walls absently but shuddered as his hand sunk into it and became mist as well. It reformed into flesh when he pulled it back, but it felt like he had stuck his hand into a litre of ice water.
Severus blinked. He passed his hand through the wall again, slowly. An icy chill numbed his hand, but beneath that he could feel something else. A string of spells—no, magic embedded within something, a rock. A wardstone? He sensed whatever magic was interwoven into the mass react to his probing touch, sending a jolt to his magic he interpreted to mean: “f*ck you and the horse you rode in on! You’re not the Countess of House Tope; you can’t touch me!”
Severus withdrew his hand.
“Okay then…” he muttered to himself. Somehow that wall connected to the wardstone of the Tope manor… and it was sentient? That made about as much sense as Severus standing on open air, so he decided it wasn’t his problem and continued on.
He brushed his hand through the opposite wall. It was just one spell this time, a preservation ward of some kind. The mist, which Severus was starting to think represented Magic itself, spiralled around his wrist and seemed to grow more solid as it did. It uncoiled and floated into the air to join with another collection of mist.
He shook his head. This was too strange, even for him.
“Petunia?” Severus called out. “Can you hear me?”
“Severus!” Her voice was faint in the distance, her relief was audible. “Where are we?!”
“I don’t know, but stay where you are! I’m gonna come to you!”
Navigating his way through the maze of rising mists proved harder than he anticipated. As the mist streams constantly shifted, the layout of the space changed too. Droplets of mist kept clinging to his robes and tugging him towards this or that stream.
Suddenly a shrill screech echoed through the air. Severus froze for a split second before sprinting in that direction. “Petunia?! Was that you?!”
She didn’t respond but as he drew closer to her location he could hear her sobbing.
f*ck it. He braced himself and dove through the walls separating him from his sister. He shivered and lost feeling in most of his body. A hundred different spells flew through his mind at once, and he was rebuked by several other wards before he made it through and collapsed.
Thankfully, Severus had managed to make it to Petunia, and she seemed unharmed, which put his mind at ease. Petunia wasn’t the only person in the space, however, as a red haired witch held Petunia in her arms and hummed softly as she sobbed endlessly.
“Lily…” he breathed, his eyes wide in shock.
She grinned, bright and wild and breathtakingly familiar. “Sev! Hi!”
“How…?” Severus shook his head to clear his thoughts. “You’re dead.”
Lily shrugged and beckoned him over. “Does it matter how? I’ve not seen another person in almost five years, and I missed you. Get over here so I can hug you!”
Despite his own distaste for physical touch, Severus did not think he could deny Lily anything at the moment, nor did he particularly want to in this case.
In the embrace of both his sisters, Severus relaxed for the first time in a very long time. His magic reached out and tangled with theirs on instinct, until it was difficult to pinpoint where he ended and they began. A triad in perfect synchronicity, as he now realized was their nature. He hadn’t noticed how unsteady he’d been these last few years until he was finally balanced again, but Severus never wanted to go back to how it had been.
He breathed in deeply, comforted by the scent of honey and amaranth that always seemed to accompany Lily through their years at school.
“Do you know where we are?” Severus asked, his voice quiet so as not to disturb the peace that settled over them.
“We’re in the realm of Lady Magic,” Lily answered, equally quiet. As Petunia’s cries had petered out, she rested her head on Lily’s shoulder, the three of them still holding onto one another like they would disappear again. “I don’t know how, or why, but when I was hit with the killing curse that night, I didn’t die straight away. I still had enough consciousness and magic to cast a silent shield over Harry, but I couldn’t stay awake long enough to see if it worked.”
Petunia nodded against her shoulder. “It did. He’s alive.”
Lily sagged in relief. She leaned her head against Petunia’s. “Thank you.”
“It can’t have been a normal shield,” Severus said, having spent years wondering how Harry survived the killing curse when Lily hadn’t.
She smirked. “Who said anything about a normal shield?”
Ah, a result of her experimentations then.
“You know the invisibility cloak from the Tales of Beadle the Bard? How it’s meant to hide the wearer from Death until they wish to greet him like an old friend?”
“Yes?” Severus answered hesitantly.
“It was a Potter family heirloom.”
He hadn’t known that, and that explained several things from his time at Hogwarts, but he was unsure what the cloak had to do with the topic at hand.
“I spent several long nights studying James’ cloak and the enchantments woven into it and was able to inconsistently replicate its effects in spell form, essentially hiding the target from Death’s sight so long as the spell was active,” she explained with a proud grin.
“That’s incredible, Lily!” Petunia said.
Severus understood, now, why Lily had applied for a Mastery in Charms in addition to her almost completed Potions Mastery. Her brainstorming sessions held so many leaps in logic very few were able to follow along, and yet her ideas worked out almost perfectly each time. No one else would have dared even think of making a spell to deny Death a soul, where Lily had done so and succeeded.
“Thanks, Petunia. I tried to hold the spell for as long as I could hear the curse residue attached to Harry, but I’m not sure I fully succeeded, so it might be worth checking at some point.”
“If we find a way out of here,” Severus muttered.
Petunia paled considerably. “Do you think we might not? What about Dudley and Harry?”
Severus grimaced. He didn’t know, truthfully. He barely knew how they got there, much less how to get out. And if Lily’s truly been stuck here since she died, she would have found a way out by now if there were one.
“~You needn’t worry, dear ones. You will return in due time.~”
Their embrace broke at last to face the ethereal woman who spoke.
She appeared first as an older woman with grey hair spilling down her back in smooth waves and smile lines marking deep into her face, then a teenager with short maroon coloured hair and baby fat clinging to her cheeks, then a noticeably pregnant woman with a warm glow about her. Her robes were a light purple which faded into the same swirling, multicoloured mist as their environment towards the bottom of the garment.
The goddess of magic.
“~I was quite impressed by your spell, Lily Potter. My consort was less so.~”
Lily paled and scrambled to explain herself, but the deity held up a hand to stall her. "~You are not in trouble, child. While annoyed, Death did not want to reap you and your family. The Potters have long been among his favoured wixen, and Fate herself wished you all a longer life.~”
Lily let out a relieved breath.
“~That reason is why I brought you here, to the Mag an Draíochta, when your life came to an end. Your lives have not been lived according to Fate’s plan, and I have waited many years for the three of you to gather together long enough to manifest Myself.~”
“Why?” Severus dared ask. “What is so important about the three of us?”
Lady Magic sighed sadly and conjured seats for the four of them. She faded to Her teenage form again and pulled Her legs underneath Her in the chair.
“~In the last several centuries, the wixen I gifted use of My Grace have subjugated those who I gave life to, those born of and surrounded by My Grace,~” she explained. “~Not only have they caused strife amongst my children and pushed them near to extinction, but the wixen of Albion have ceased the traditional rituals meant to give back to the Earth the magic they consume throughout the year. As things are now, truthfully, I am dying.~”
Severus inhaled sharply, shoulders stiffening. He didn’t know what would happen if Magic Herself died, but he couldn’t imagine it was a pleasant future.
“~I have tried several times to correct the balance of Magic as Time drifted further from Fate’s plans. First with a inter-being coven in the nineteenth century who were hunted down and killed before they could ever hope to enact change, then again with a young muggle raised boy who grew up during Grindelwald’s reign and World War Two. He, unfortunately, became the antithesis of what I tried moulding him to be and divided Albion even further.~” Lady Magic shook Her head sadly.
“~The three of you, should you chose to accept, will become the reformed House of Emrys.~” Severus choked in shock. “~With this, your magic will become connected to the whole of Albion’s lands and to myself. Your new name will give you the necessary weight to right many of the wrongs that have been inflicted upon My children and unite all beings of magic under My name.~”
Petunia glanced at Severus and Lily, tilting her head. “You both reacted like that’s a big deal. What is the significance behind the House of Emrys?”
“It’s Merlin’s house,” Lily explained slowly, her eyes still wide. “Wixing royalty by the most literal of definitions. Claiming the Emrys name… That would completely restructure the way our government works.”
Petunia gaped in astonishment. “Surely we aren’t that important,” she argued.
Lady Magic smiled, amused. “~You are revolutionary, Petunia Evans. All three of you are incredibly gifted and exceptionally intelligent. Since the moment your magic connected to each other’s for the first time, I have been longing to see you all realize your full potential,~” She said earnestly.
“~Lily, you have already crafted spells beyond what most think is possible and should you get the opportunity again, I believe many more will follow. Petunia, you have been held at an extreme disadvantage considering all that was cast against you in your youth, yet you still managed to earn two non-magical Masteries before you were out of your teens. I have no doubt at all that you will do amazing things when you are able. Severus, though not held back physically like Petunia, you have been chained to Albus Dumbledore for so many years you have forgotten your autonomy. You are an innovator at your core. Should you rekindle the passion you once had for experimentation, you will change the world of potioneering as it is currently known.~”
Severus flushed and turned his head, feeling chastised. She was right, obviously. He had been so caught up in the misery that was teaching first years, he had completely neglected his beloved craft. He had spent hours in his youth picking apart techniques and brewing instructions to find the more efficient shortcuts, and he had become the youngest Potions Master in two centuries because of it.
Glancing at his sisters, Lily wore a pleased smile while Petunia was visibly flustered by the praise.
“~By accepting your place at the Head of House Emrys, the three of you will no longer be considered simple wixen, but children of My Grace.~” Her image shifted back into that of the older woman and She pinned back the hair that fell into Her face. “~I cannot say yet what changes you may face because of that claiming, but know that you shall always have an ally in My other children. The goblin horde of Magical London has long since been instructed to assist my Vassals once found, and they will be able to ease the transition into your new life.~”
“M’lady, I mean no offence, but I am dead,” Lily began hesitantly. “How will I be able to fulfill your desires?”
Lady Magic smiled maternally, and reached out to brush Lily’s hair behind her ear. “~Fate allows Me only glimpses of His plans, so I know not how it shall come to pass, but rest assured, dear one, you shall be united with your family once more in flesh and bone. All will become clear in due time.~” She sat back and conjured a jewelled pendant. “~In the meantime, My Consort has granted you partial presence in the mortal world. Only those who share your blood will be capable of interacting with you, but you shall be free to roam the Earth once more.~”
Tears bloomed in Lily’s eyes, and she took the pendant with a grateful smile. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me, my lady.”
Her eyes softened. “~As my children, you shall be permitted to call me by the more familiar moniker of Mother Magic or just Mother if you prefer.~”
Lily nodded as she dabbed at her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. “Thank you, Mother,” she repeated. “I accept your blessing.”
“I do as well,” Severus said. Accepting would let Lily come back, and that was all he needed to know.
“And I,” Petunia agreed.
At their collective agreement, mist broke away from the deity’s robes and formed a golden tether between the three siblings and Mother Magic. Severus felt it connect and burrow deep into his core.
“~I wish we could continue this conversation, but I cannot sustain My material form for much longer, and mortal eyes are not meant to gaze upon the Divine,” She told them sadly. “~We must bid each other goodbye for now.~”
“Will we speak again?” Petunia asked, wincing like she wasn’t sure she was allowed to ask.
Mother Magic nodded, her expression warm. “~We will, in due time. Ask the London Horde to run your inheritances when you return. Everything you should need, you will find in one of your vaults.~”
Severus stood and bowed deeply to Her. “Thank you, Mother Magic. Your generosity is greatly appreciated.”
Petunia and Lily followed suit and bowed as well.
When they stood, the deity caressed each of their cheeks. “~Good luck, My children,~” she said as the mists broke away from the walls to swirl around them, obscuring Mother Magic from view.
Severus blinked and stood once more in the depths of Gringotts, the staff still lying innocently on the table.
The fae’s face split into a wide grin, pointed, needle-like teeth on full display. They clapped in delight. “Wonderful! It’s true! Oh, the Courts will be so pleased!”
Severus glanced to his left seeing the hazy, translucent form of Lily standing next to Petunia. She grinned and bounced in place.
The Goblin King inclined his head towards them in a show of respect. “Well met, Your majesties.”
