Chapter 11
Snorting, the sixth-year threw one last glance at the staff table, where McGonagall was still frowning at him.
Damn snake. Just wait till later. I will beat the stupidity out of you.
He had no choice but to grit his teeth, sit back down, and glare at Severus.
With each second, more students filed into the hall.
Soon a bell rang, followed by Albus Dumbledore's voice.
"Please take your seats."
The still-chattering students fell silent under Dumbledore's gaze.
Once everyone was seated, he continued with the same kind smile.
"Another year has come to an end. As Headmaster, I congratulate you, and I wish you never to give up and always achieve your goals!
Now, I will not keep you in suspense. I will announce this year's winners.
The scores are as follows: fourth place. Gryffindor, with two hundred and seventy-five."
The hall immediately filled with applause.
Gryffindors only lowered their heads in shame.
The four Marauders looked especially crushed. It was their fault.
They did not dare raise their eyes to their housemates.
James burned Severus, who smiled back at him, with a hateful glare.
"Third place." Dumbledore continued. "Hufflepuff, with three hundred and ten points."
The hall filled with applause again.
Unlike Gryffindor, Hufflepuff did not look crushed. Third place was nothing new.
"Second place. Ravenclaw, with three hundred and thirty points.
And finally, first place, and this year's champions, Slytherin!
This year they earned three hundred and eighty points. Congratulations!"
Dumbledore nodded, still smiling.
The Slytherin table erupted in applause and joyful shouts.
From the other houses, only a few clapped.
Over the Gryffindor table hung a deathly silence.
"And the House Cup this year goes to Slytherin."
The emblems behind the staff table and along the walls flashed green.
Slytherins leapt from their seats, cheering and tossing hats into the air.
Severus did not just sit there. He joined the celebration.
After that, everyone settled down and, chatting happily, started on the feast.
"They feed you pretty well here." Severus narrowed his eyes contentedly as he tore off a piece of chicken leg.
It cannot compare to dragon meat, but it is still very good. He nodded, washing it down with juice.
But I would not mind some wine.
Half an hour before curfew, all the food vanished from the tables.
Dumbledore stood and, surveying the students, said.
"Well, today's celebration is over. Do not forget to pack your things. The train leaves tomorrow at eleven."
Some students grumbled that the food had disappeared so suddenly, but they still rose from the benches and headed for the exit.
Severus said goodbye to Myrtle, who was now surrounded by Ravenclaws, and left the hall.
He returned to his room without trouble and quickly packed his few belongings.
The next day, Severus stood on the platform with a small battered suitcase slung over his back.
He examined the red train with mild curiosity.
In small things, this world has advanced far. But simple teleportation is still better. Eh. stupid rules. Only in sixth year can I get permission to use Apparition. Even though I know teleportation magic, far safer than this, I do not want to attract the attention of the local law enforcers. Easier to endure two months. Then, at the start of sixth year, submit the application and use it freely without worry.
He walked up to a man in a red uniform with a round cap, handed over his suitcase, and boarded the train.
Reaching the Slytherin carriage, he took an empty seat and pulled out the book on the Patronus.
"Is this seat free?"
"Of course. Sit. I thought you would leave Hogwarts by Apparition." The person opposite was John Macmillan, the former Slytherin prefect.
"Decided to ride one last time. After all, it is my last visit to this place." Severus sat by the window with a nostalgic smile, wanting to glance at the castle one final time.
"These seven years passed quickly."
"You sound like an old man."
"Hm?" Macmillan looked at Severus with mild surprise and shook his head. "You have changed."
"Under certain circumstances, people change a lot. By the way, what do you plan to do?" Severus asked, lifting his eyes from the book, though he already knew the answer.
He had gathered plenty of information about the Macmillan family.
What appealed to him was their neutrality, and the artifact shop run by Macmillan's father.
"Follow in my father's footsteps, of course. But I understand you are not asking for no reason. And you have been gathering information."
"I was not trying to hide it." Severus waved lazily and beckoned one of the black needles to his finger.
"I want to sell a certain artifact."
"An artifact?" The moment the needle landed in Macmillan's hand, he realized it was under Transfiguration.
He slid it into his jacket pocket, infusing it with his own magic.
"I will show it to my father."
"I am sure he will not be disappointed. And if the price suits me, I am ready to sell a few more. But I will warn you upfront, if he tries to take it apart, he will lose his hands. That is not a threat. It is a fact. I added a small security system to the artifact."
Macmillan's smile faltered, but he still nodded.
"And here is my address in the Muggle world. I will be there for a while."
"I thought you were just a brilliant potion-maker. Turns out you are an artificer too." Macmillan started, but when he saw Severus frown, he smiled guiltily. "Fine. I am quiet."
When they arrived in the town of Cokeworth, where Severus had lived before, he felt mixed emotions.
On one hand, even with Severus's memories, he still felt surprised at the sight of the buildings, the cars rushing back and forth, and the way people dressed.
On the other, the town itself felt depressing.
Dark, monotonous houses. Gloomy clouds covering the sky. Horribly polluted air that made him nauseous, thanks to the nearby textile factory whose chimneys belched acrid smoke, turning the closest forests and rivers into dead places.
And the indifferent, sometimes outright gloomy, faces of the people almost ruined his mood completely.
It worked no worse than Dementors, dark creatures that sucked out any positive emotion.
Now I understand why he fell in love with Lily. Always cheerful, pretty, and talkative, in this gray town she was like a breath of fresh air.
As he neared the house, Severus felt that same girl's gaze on his back. After all, they were almost neighbors.
I need to sell this little house quickly and move somewhere with cleaner air.
A few blocks later, he reached Spinner's End, an unremarkable street where Severus's house stood.
"What a palace." Severus studied the simple two-story brick house with a tiled roof, and wanted more and more to leave this wonderful town.
The moment he opened the door, a disgusting musty stench hit his nose.
"Mm." He snapped his fingers, raised a barrier around his head to filter the air, and closed the door behind him.
"W-who is. h-here?!" A furious, hoarse voice came from one of the rooms.
From around the corner appeared a person. A bloated face, bags under the eyes, rough earth-toned skin, a starved frame, dirty clothes torn in places, and a nauseating smell.
"You."
"I am surprised they have not thrown you in prison yet."
"Heh-heh-heh. So you dare. hic. talk to your father like that, you damn monster." Tobias grinned and swayed toward Severus.
"Time to show who is boss here."
"Really? Like you did with your wife?"
"Do not call that creature my wife!" Tobias roared, swinging at Severus.
"A simple human wants to hit a wizard. If I told my classmates, no one would believe it." Severus waved lazily, and the drunk slammed into the wall with a thud.
"Sleep for now. I will wake you later." Using the perception-enhancing spell again, Severus headed for the basement, where Severus's mother had kept her books and magical items, and taught her son with them.
The basement had nothing to distinguish it from any other. Junk, and nothing more.
In the corner stood two shelves. One held ordinary books and worn magical ones, all of them decades old.
But Severus barely cared about that. Another thing caught his attention, a small box that gave off a faint trace of magic.
"This was easier than I expected." Severus lifted it with a smile.
He opened it and took out a simple-looking mirror, or rather, a cursed mirror.
The Curse of Discord. In this weak state, it is almost harmless and hard to notice. But with prolonged exposure, even wizards cannot resist, let alone Muggles. And if it did not affect Severus, then it was given to him two or three years before he entered Hogwarts. Now all that is left is to find the sender of this gift. The simplest way is a ritual that finds everyone who ever touched the mirror or the box. But for that I need materials. And for materials, I need Galleons. With a tired sigh, Severus looked toward a dark cloth.
"Hm?" He pulled it aside and raised an eyebrow in surprise.
A portrait stared back at him. A woman of about twenty-five, with long dark hair, clean pale skin typical of aristocrats, a strict but gentle gaze, and a slightly elongated face that did nothing to spoil her beauty.
She must have expected this might happen someday, and tried to make a living portrait. But she was a little late. Severus thought with a sad smile, feeling the magic radiating from it.
A witch who died from beatings. It is almost funny. Something is wrong here. I refuse to believe she could fall blindly in love with a simple Muggle and endure beatings. Fine if she were ordinary, but a witch, and an aristocrat? It would have been easy to stun him, erase his memory, and settle elsewhere, doing the same to another house's owners if needed. Nonsense. A love potion was definitely used. Only that could bind someone this strongly. Now I just have to find who did it, and turn their life into hell. Then I will owe Severus nothing more.
Covering the portrait with the cloth again, Severus looked at the collar on the shelf and grinned bloodthirstily.
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