into the night
Severina followed Professor McGonagall through the dimly lit corridors, her steps measured, her expression carefully blank.
She had expected detention. That was nothing new.
But the Headmaster’s office?
She was not pleased.
McGonagall’s heels clicked sharply against the stone floor as they approached the familiar stone gargoyle guarding the entrance. The professor’s lips were pressed into a thin line, her usual stern expression giving away little.
Severina wasn’t particularly intimidated. McGonagall was strict, but she was fair. Severina had seen her anger before—most often directed at the Marauders—but she had also seen the grudging respect in her gaze when a student proved their skill.
She doubted, however, that McGonagall had been impressed by her display this afternoon.
They came to a halt before the gargoyle.
“Sugar quill,” McGonagall said crisply.
The stone guardian sprang to life, shifting aside to reveal the spiral staircase beyond.
Severina tilted her head slightly. Sugar quill. Fitting.
McGonagall turned to her at last, lips pursed. “Wait here.”
Severina arched a brow but said nothing as McGonagall ascended the stairs, disappearing into the office above.
Left alone, she folded her arms, exhaling slowly through her nose.
A few students passed by, their gazes lingering on her before quickly looking away. The day’s events were already traveling through the school. She could almost hear the whispers.
Snape hexed a boy so badly they had to take him to the Hospital Wing.
Madam Pomfrey still can't undo it.
McGonagall sent her to Dumbledore himself.
She rolled her eyes. Let them talk.
After a few minutes, the staircase began to spiral downward once more.
McGonagall reappeared, expression unreadable. She studied Severina for a moment before nodding toward the entrance.
“The Headmaster will see you now.”
Severina gave a slow, deliberate nod before stepping onto the staircase.
As it carried her upwards, she straightened her shoulders, schooling her features into neutrality. Whatever Dumbledore wanted, she would handle it.
She stood before the heavy wooden door of the Headmaster’s office, its towering frame shadowing her slight figure. The air smelled faintly of old parchment, candle wax, and something sweeter—lemon? She clenched her jaw.
It was not fear that made her hesitate. Dumbledore was no threat to her. She had simply never had a reason to be here before.
With a sharp breath, she knocked.
“Enter,” came the voice from within, light and expectant, as if he had been waiting for her.
She stepped inside. The room was warm, filled with the soft ticking of unseen mechanisms and the occasional rustling of the many slumbering portraits that lined the walls. Fawkes sat on his perch, watching her with dark, intelligent eyes.
Dumbledore himself sat behind his vast, cluttered desk, peering at her over his half-moon spectacles with that same infuriatingly unreadable expression he always wore.
“Ah, Miss Snape,” he said pleasantly. “Do take a seat.”
She didn’t move at first, fingers tightening around the edges of her sleeves. Then, carefully, she lowered herself into the chair across from him, keeping her back straight.
Silence stretched between them.
She inhaled through her nose. The books on his shelves were arranged with no discernible order, and his desk was a mess of parchment and trinkets—unfamiliar objects, tiny silver instruments spinning and whirring, as if each had a life of its own. It made her fingers itch.
The way his spectacles sat slightly crooked. The way one stack of parchment was slightly higher than the other. She pressed her fingernails against the pads of her fingers in an even rhythm. One, two, three, four. Repeat.
Dumbledore steepled his fingers in front of his ice-white beard. “I must admit, Miss Snape, it is not every day that a student earns both Professor McGonagall’s exasperation and her begrudging respect in a single afternoon.”
Severina’s lips twitched, though she quickly schooled her expression.
“I suspect you already know why you are here.”
She lifted a shoulder in the barest hint of a shrug. “For standing my ground?”
“An interesting choice of words,” Dumbledore mused. “Some might say that particular corridor duel of yours was unnecessary. Others might say it was long overdue.”
Her eyes flickered. Was that amusement in his voice?
“Did you expect me to let them hex a first-year?”
“Ah,” he said, blue eyes twinkling. “So, you acted on behalf of another?”
Severina hesitated. She had acted first and foremost on instinct, but had it been for the student? For herself? For the principle of the matter?
Dumbledore seemed to be watching these thoughts flicker behind her eyes.
“I will not lecture you on the dangers of rash decision-making, Miss Snape,” he continued, “for I suspect you are already quite aware of them.”
Her fingers twitched again. One, two, three, four.
He shifted, reaching for something on his desk. A bowl of sweets.
“Sherbet lemon?”
Severina barely resisted the urge to scoff. “No, thank you.”
“Ah, well. More for me.” He popped one into his mouth, regarding her with that same infuriatingly mild gaze. “I imagine you have a great deal on your mind.”
She tilted her head, narrowing her eyes slightly.
“I think, perhaps,” Dumbledore mused, “that you believe yourself far less transparent than you are.”
Her fingers curled into her palm.
Dumbledore continued, voice light as ever. “Professor McGonagall is under the impression that your detention will serve as an appropriate punishment. I, however, have my own interest in this matter.”
Here it was.
Severina forced herself to remain still. “And what, exactly, interests you about this, Headmaster?”
Dumbledore regarded her for a moment. “You are very gifted, Miss Snape.”
A pause. She bristled, though she wasn’t sure why.
“Few students can create their own spells at your age.”
So, he knew. Not surprising, but still—
She lifted her chin. “I imagine many would say the same of those Gryffindor boys.”
“Indeed. And yet,” he mused, eyes twinkling, “you are different, aren’t you?”
Severina held his gaze, willing her fingers not to resume their tapping. She did not like this.
“You remind me of your mother,” he said suddenly.
That threw her.
“My mother?”
Dumbledore nodded. “A brilliant mind. Sharp. Always thinking one step ahead.”
Severina stared. He had taught Eileen. She had known that, of course, but she had never heard him speak of her mother before.
“She had the same determination in her eyes,” Dumbledore continued lightly. “The same hunger for knowledge.”
The words should have pleased her. Instead, they unsettled her.
“She had a choice to make,” he added, almost idly. “As do you.”
Her breath caught. There it was. The hint. The warning, so subtle that she could almost pretend it hadn’t been spoken at all.
She forced herself to smirk. “And which choice do you believe I am making?”
Dumbledore smiled. “Ah, but that is not for me to say.”
Another beat of silence.
He set the sweets aside, leaning forward slightly. “Tell me, Miss Snape—do you know why I called you here personally, rather than simply assigning your detention and moving on?”
Severina met his gaze, careful to betray nothing. “Because you enjoy wasting students’ time?”
Dumbledore chuckled. “An amusing theory. But no.” His gaze sharpened. “I like to know where my brightest students are headed.”
Her breath felt tight.
“I look forward to seeing which path you take.”
There was no malice in his voice. No direct accusation. And yet, the weight of his words settled in her stomach like a stone.
Dumbledore straightened. “Now, as for your detention,” he said, tone once again light, “you will report to Professor Kettleburn in the evening, every evening, for the next two weeks. I believe he has some tasks in the Forbidden Forest that require some… assistance.”
The flicker of surprise must have shown on her face, because Dumbledore’s smile turned ever so slightly amused.
“Yes,” he said, “I do believe you’ll find it most enlightening.”
Severina said nothing.
Dumbledore gestured to the door. “That will be all, Miss Snape.”
She hesitated only a moment longer before rising to her feet. She turned on her heel, striding toward the door, willing herself not to look back.
Only when the heavy door closed behind her did she exhale.
——-
January 7th, 1976
8.30pm
The night air was damp and thick with the scent of earth and moss, clinging to Severina’s skin like an unwelcome second layer. The sky, veiled by the dense canopy, let in only slivers of moonlight, casting eerie shadows along the forest floor. Professor Kettleburn led the way, his lantern swaying slightly with each step, illuminating the gnarled roots and damp leaves beneath their feet.
Severina moved carefully, placing each step with precision, while Sirius Black trudged along beside her with far less caution, hands shoved into his pockets, his mouth set in an irritated line. He had spent most of the walk muttering about the absurdity of having detention on the first week back, though Kettleburn’s sharp glare had silenced him more than once.
She had thought she would be able to complete her detentions alone, in silence, but of course Black couldn’t help himself and had to prank Filch within the first week of term.
And so he had gotten detention with Kettleburn as well. For the next two weeks.
May Merlin grant her patience.
Finally, the professor came to a stop beside a small, makeshift enclosure wedged between the twisted roots of an ancient oak. Severina peered inside and spotted a small manticore cub curled in the corner. It was no larger than a medium-sized dog, its golden fur dull under the lantern’s glow. Its wings twitched, weak and underdeveloped, and its scorpion tail barely flicked.
“It was found abandoned yesterday,” Kettleburn said gruffly. “Too weak to hunt for itself. Needs food, and you two are going to fetch it.”
Black frowned. “You’re telling us to babysit a manticore?”
“I’m telling you to find its dinner,” Kettleburn corrected. “Manticore cubs eat insects, small amphibians, and a few specific fungi. Nothing too dangerous—unless, of course, you’re incompetent.”
Sirius smirked. “I resent the implication.”
Kettleburn ignored him and handed Severina a list scrawled in messy, barely legible handwriting. “Everything’s in the immediate area. I’ll check on you later. Try not to lose any limbs.”
With that, he turned and strode off into the darkness, leaving them alone with the weakly stirring cub and the sounds of the forest pressing in around them.
Severina read the list quickly, barely sparing Sirius a glance. “Let’s get this over with.”
They moved through the undergrowth, the leaves damp beneath their boots. Severina walked with purpose, Black trailing behind.
“What’s first?” he asked.
Severina ran a finger down the list, careful to keep it aligned with the page’s edge. “A handful of screech beetles, three glowworms, and at least two live blood slugs.”
Sirius wrinkled his nose. “Bloody disgusting.”
Severina didn’t respond, instead kneeling beside a patch of damp earth where something wriggled. With a flick of her wand, she carefully unearthed a nest of fat, glistening blood slugs, their translucent bodies pulsing slightly as they squirmed.
Black took one look and stepped back. “Absolutely not.”
Severina exhaled sharply. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, I’m entirely Sirius,” he quipped, flashing a grin.
She closed her eyes briefly, inhaling through her nose before flicking her wand again. The slugs hovered neatly into a small glass jar, aligning perfectly in a way that soothed the irritation his presence had sparked.
Black watched, his gaze flicking between the jar and her careful movements. “So, you’re a neat freak on top of being insufferable.”
Severina ignored him, adjusting the jar until it was centered in her grip before standing. “Unlike you, I don’t enjoy unnecessary mess.”
“Mess makes life interesting,” Black said, stepping over a root with a lazy stride. “You must be miserable.”
She didn’t dignify that with an answer and instead moved to the next task—the beetles.
Screech beetles were notoriously difficult to catch, skittering away at the slightest sound. Severina spotted a small hollow where several of them nestled, their shiny black shells barely visible against the damp bark. She motioned for silence and crept forward. Just as she reached out—
Crunch.
A branch snapped under Black’s foot.
The beetles scattered instantly.
Severina whipped around, furious, but Sirius just shrugged. “Whoops.”
She clenched her jaw, breathing through the instinct to hex him on the spot. Instead, she pulled out her wand and murmured a Summoning Charm, modifying it slightly so that it drew the beetles back without startling them. One by one, they scuttled toward her open palm.
Black whistled under his breath. “Well, aren’t you clever?”
She shot him a sharp look. “I’m sure we established that long ago.”
He grinned, clearly unfazed.
They walked in silence for a while after that, the forest growing darker, the trees pressing in more tightly. The usual distant hoots and rustles had faded, leaving behind a silence that felt thick, weighted. Severina slowed her steps, her grip on her wand tightening slightly.
Black noticed and frowned. “What?”
She didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her gaze swept the surrounding trees. Something felt… off.
A branch rustled high above them. Not the wind. Something moving.
For a brief moment, their rivalry was forgotten. Both of them were alert, tense, their wands subtly shifting into their grips. Severina felt the warm press of Black’s back against hers.
But then, the sound receded—moving away.
The Gryffindor relaxed first, rolling his shoulders. “You’re paranoid.”
Severina didn’t reply, but the unease lingered.
By the time they returned to the manticore cub’s enclosure, their hands (well, her hands) were full with the gathered food. Black had refused to carry anything remotely slimy, leaving the majority of the work to her.
Kettleburn barely looked up from where he was tending to another injured creature. “Still alive? Good enough. Off you go.”
Severina turned immediately toward the castle, eager to be done with the night.
Black, however, walked beside her, stretching his arms over his head. “That was almost fun.”
She shot him a flat look. “You were useless.”
“Ah, but I was entertaining.”
“No. You weren’t.”
He only grinned wider, pearly whites gleaming.
As they neared the castle doors, he made a final jab, smirking. “You know, for someone who acts so high and mighty, you were awfully eager to dig through the dirt.”
Severina simply smirked. “Unlike you, I know how to work.”
That—unexpectedly—left him without a response.
They walked the rest of the way in silence.