Chapter 5
Chapter 4:
He was in a terrible, horrible, very bad mood, thank you very much.
If anyone bothered to ask, he would tell them that much was so. It was normal, he supposed, to be surrounded by idiots. Complete and utter imbeciles who did nothing but sit on their asses, twiddling their thumbs and stoking their own ego. He doesn’t suppose they wouldn’t stroke a different 'ego' if it were a hair more socially acceptable. They had already replaced their brains with the same appendage anyways. It would make logical sense ego would soon follow suit. It was often he felt he was smarter than, better equipped, and or generally better than most people he was forced to keep the company off. And not for the sake of hubris alone, it often was the truth. You see, he was gifted, truly. Possibly one of the greatest minds of that century, scientific or otherwise. Though, of course, at that time 'scientific' was not quite the same it is considered to be now a days. He could, perhaps, be credited for many of the modern conveniences that you now know, in their earliest form that is. However, at the time he wasn’t considered ‘scientific’ or ‘smart’, no not necessarily. You see, when you are born into a life that is by design, lacking in privilege, people often tend to forget it is at all possible that you can, in fact, think for yourself. For they often cannot. So, having grown up poor, and he did, having grown up in a place devoid of love and overwhelmed in struggle, and he did, more so even in misery, and he did. Born at the wrong place, the wrong time, wrong in general. The illegitimate, bastard, son of a carney; a large rough man who loved the bottle and favored a belt, and a pretty young thing; near aristocratic, high class, well off. She, like many of us had a 'good' family, one that had love. Yet, none leftover to give to her poor, darling, boy.
Tragic, it was. His first crime. Unforgivable. The first of many it seemed. A curse to come into the world, a fresh page, full of life, and to leave his mother pale-faced still laying in a rickety bed in a secluded room. With the life he took he brought only one thing in exchange, Distain.
Distain from his father, for taking the only thing he could’ve ever loved.
From her family, for taking opportunity and bringing shame upon a good name, for tainting their bloodline.
And, perhaps the most, from himself. For no reason other than that he so clearly felt he deserved it.
And yet he preserved, as always did. And as he did, he grew up. Amongst cruel men, and gawdy women. Far from warmth but close friends to taunts and jeers and drunken shoves. He did want he had to do. And he hid himself away within himself. So deep, deep, deep in the dark. Deep down to the creaky part of his spine. Where his bones threatened to pull apart from his muscles and rupture through his flesh each month as he grew taller and taller.
But in private, when alone, truly alone, he was an academic. No one could deny, had they known, his skills. He consumed books with a fervor, a hunger. Of course, information was hard to come by, but he had long ago resigned to not let a single thing deter him from what he sought. He stalked it. Like a wolf on the hunt, waiting for just the right moment to pounce and sink his teeth into the rich, juicy flesh of knowing. And he did. Often by candlelight. Late, late, at night when no one else would catch him and often under the cover of dusk. curled deep into the dirtiest, most secluded corner of whatever gig they were working that point. Thats where he studied, and he worked, and he taught himself from the source. Come morning, he'd hide them away where no one could find them and rip them to shreds as they'd done before. And he hid in upon himself. And he saved every penny he found, quite literally found. Until he was in town, until he could make his plea. His beg. Paris was his only hope. His escape.
He knew, given his beginnings, he would never be accepted amongst the true academics. Not yet anyway. No, he still had much work left to do. But he was in Paris! And the Black Conservatory was right there! And it was what he had pinned all his hopes and dreams upon, the few he had allowed himself to covet. And whatever he coveted, he was determined to keep. So, and because it was absolutely necessary, he begged. He marched right into Walburga and Orion's personal meeting and declared himself. He made careful mention of his studies, his knowledge, his thirst and his potential. And with all he had to offer laid bare in front of their scrutiny. A boy stripped naked, all he had to offer on full display, pleading. By the grace of whatever god that had neglected him so the past 13 years, his prayer was answered. A specialty masterclass. It was only a year, but it was enough. He would graduate with the honors of the Black Conservatory and a firm leg up in the world. He had done what he had to do. He, finally, had a chance out.
But having declared himself, he couldn’t go back anyways. And so, his family, no matter how bad they had been, no matter how bad they taunted him, or beat him or sneered him name or his craft; left him. Abandoned in the night, on purpose, make no mistake. Up and left him, nothing but him and his meager few possessions, dumped into a pitch-black caldron. And despite all of that, despite his best attempts not too, he cried. Because even if they had been terrible, they had been his family. And even in their torture of the young boy, they cared for him, they looked out for him, only they had been allowed to hurt him. He had lost his family. And there was no way someone as terrible as he could find another.
On his journey he went, alone. Even if he tried, no one wanted to be around him, too scary, too vile, too....
And eventually he found a place that would tolerate him. Though the conditions were worse, though he knew he deserved better, he traveled around bouncing from circus to circus. Leaving each time the taunts became too unbearable, when the misery dripped of his skin and he felt he would drown if he didn’t find an air pocket quick. He learned a skill. A unique one. One not many knew how to do. Indispensable. Wanted at last. And he made himself an expert.
Until he met her, he was convinced one could love him. Not that he’d made it easy at all. For once, for the first time, he had known kindness. And nothing he could do would be good enough, would be what this girl deserved. She was good. And she was kind, and she would despise the man he had become once he finally succeeded in pushing her away.
Maybe, he was destined to be vile. Born to stay a bastard. All too similar to his craft, a snake charmer, one Severus snape.