The cracks begin to show
The house on Spinner’s End smelled of mildew and old wood, its walls lined with books that no one read and furniture covered in a thin film of dust. The only sounds were the steady ticking of the clock in the kitchen and the occasional creak of floorboards above, where Tobias Snape paced in his usual evening restlessness. Severus sat in the dim glow of a flickering lamp, hands gripping his tattered schoolbook, eyes staring blankly at the words. He wasn’t reading. He was listening.
The whispers had started two weeks ago. Soft at first, like the distant murmuring of students in the Great Hall, just beyond comprehension. But now they were clearer.
“Weak.”
“Pathetic.”
“They laugh at you.”
He swallowed thickly, fingers tightening around the book until his knuckles turned white. He wasn’t crazy. He knew that. But every time he glanced over his shoulder, expecting to catch someone standing behind him, the room was empty.
A sharp crack split through the silence. Tobias. Drunk again.
Severus exhaled slowly, pressing himself further into the worn-out couch as his father’s heavy boots thudded down the stairs. He smelled the whiskey before he even saw him.
Tobias loomed in the doorway, his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes, bloodshot and unfocused, locked onto Severus. “Still up?” His voice was slurred, thick with resentment.
Severus didn’t answer. He knew better.
Tobias snorted, stepping closer, the floor groaning beneath his weight. “Always got your nose in a book, don’t you?” His lips curled into something that was supposed to be a smile but looked more like a sneer. “Bet you think you’re better than me. Better than this house. Than this family.”
Severus remained silent, his body tense. He could feel the whispers pressing against his skull, writhing like worms beneath his skin.
“You don’t have to take this.”
“Make him stop.”
His father’s hand shot out, grabbing Severus by the collar. The book fell to the floor with a dull thud.
“You listening to me, boy?” Tobias’ breath was hot against his face, reeking of alcohol and rage.
Severus clenched his jaw. Don’t react. Don’t flinch. Don’t give him what he wants.
Tobias shoved him back with a grunt, disgust twisting his features. “You’re just like your mother,” he muttered. “Useless.”
Severus remained frozen as Tobias staggered away, disappearing into the kitchen, muttering curses under his breath.
The whispers coiled around Severus like smoke.
“You don’t have to be weak.”
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
For the first time, he found himself agreeing.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hogwarts was supposed to be an escape. It wasn’t.
The halls were filled with laughter that wasn’t meant for him. The Marauders—James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew—were always there, always watching, waiting for an opportunity.
Severus walked with his head down, his fingers curled around the strap of his bookbag. If he made himself small enough, invisible enough, maybe today they’d leave him alone.
They didn’t.
“Oi, Snivellus!”
Severus barely had time to brace himself before James’ foot hooked around his ankle. He hit the stone floor hard, his bag spilling open, parchment and ink scattering. Laughter erupted around him.
“Oops,” James drawled, twirling his wand between his fingers. “Clumsy, aren’t you?”
Severus’ hands curled into fists.
“Make them stop.”
Sirius crouched beside him, his gray eyes alight with amusement. “You always look like a kicked dog, you know that?” He grabbed a handful of Severus’ hair and yanked. “Maybe if you washed this once in a while—”
Severus lashed out. His hand shot up, grasping Sirius’ wrist in an iron grip. His nails dug into skin.
The corridor went silent.
For a moment, Severus saw something flicker in Sirius’ expression—surprise? Amusement?—before the bastard grinned.
“Careful, Snivellus,” he whispered. “Wouldn’t want people to think you’ve got a backbone.”
Severus shoved his hand away and scrambled to his feet, snatching up his scattered belongings with shaking hands. He turned and walked away, not daring to look back.
The whispers pulsed in his skull.
“Weak. Pathetic.”
“Let them laugh now. Soon, they won’t be laughing at all.”
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
That night, Severus sat in front of the mirror in the Slytherin dormitory. His roommates were asleep, their breathing steady and deep. The candlelight flickered, casting shadows over his face.
He barely recognized himself.
Dark circles bruised his eyes. His skin was pale, his lips pressed into a thin, bloodless line. He looked like a ghost.
Then, for the first time, the whispers had a face.
His reflection smiled.
Severus flinched, his breath catching in his throat. The version of him in the mirror tilted its head, eyes gleaming.
“They think you’re nothing.”
Severus swallowed. “I know.”
“You could make them pay.”
His hands clenched. The reflection’s smile widened.
“Imagine it. The way they’d scream. The way they’d beg.”
Severus closed his eyes. The darkness behind his eyelids felt safer than whatever was staring back at him from the glass.
But he wasn’t afraid. Not anymore.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It happened a week later.
A Gryffindor—a nameless idiot who laughed too loudly—shoved past him in the corridor, knocking his books to the ground.
Severus didn’t hesitate.
By the time the boy turned around, Severus had already muttered the curse under his breath.
It was nothing spectacular. Just a small hex. But the way the boy’s legs twisted, the way he crumpled to the floor, gasping in pain, sent a thrill through Severus’ veins.
The whispers cheered.
Severus crouched beside him, his expression blank. “Clumsy, aren’t you?” he murmured.
The boy stared up at him, his face pale with shock.
Severus stood, stepped over him, and walked away.
For the first time in his life, he felt powerful.
For the first time, he didn’t feel weak.
And for the first time, he realized—
He wanted more.