Why He Hates Muggles

Why He Hates Muggles

Chapter 11

By Odd Doll

Friday, June 18, 1976

“This is the library. Lumos,” Severus said, and a sconce lit on the wall by the door. They entered to the familiar smells of dusty old paper, fireplace ash, and warm leather from the deep armchairs that stood in front of the fireplace. The room was enormous, occupying most of the north side of the house. Three rows of stacks ran the length of the room, and glass-fronted shelves lined three of the walls. Scrolls sat in neat piles behind the glassed-in shelves, while the stacks wereded ded with books. A fireplace as tall as a man dominated the west wall, and a clear space in front of it held the armchairs, sofas, and reading desks. Like most of the rooms on the first floor, the light from the tall windows barely lit the interior, even at midday.

“How does it know which light you want lit?” Charity asked.

“Just the one nearest you. If I could use my wand, I’d point at the one I wanted,” Severus said.

“You don’t have a wand?” Charity wandered down the aisles between the stacks, gazing at the titles. Severus followed behind, watching the silky cascade of her hair as she tilted her head up to look at the books.

“I have one. I’m just not allowed to use magic while I’m away from school.”

She glanced at him. “Is that something your parents decided?”

“No. It applies to everybody.”

“How would they know?” She reached up to touch a fingertip to the spine of a small book nestled between to larger ones. “This looks like it was burned. Actually, a lot of them do.”

“There. re. The original house burned down in 1864. We lost a lout tut the books, and the paintings, and a few of the more important heirlooms and things had fire-resisting spells on them. Careful what you touch. Some of these books are very old. And as far as the magic, they just know. I could get into a lot of trouble.”

She dropped her hands and clasped them behind her back to keep them from touching the precious volumes. They continued down the aisle, Charity reading titles in a whisper. “Are these all magic books?”

“This section is. There are a bunch of first editions on the other side.”

She came to the end of the aisle and looked up at the scrolls. “What are these?”

“Ancient family trash, if you ask me,” he said with a sneer.

She gave him a quizzical smile. “Why? What are they? Old grocery lists?”

“There are family financial records going back hundreds of years. A lot of it is records from experiments with potions and spells. Those are pretty important, I guess. I’ve been looking at them now and then. I ran across some pretty juicy love letters a few years ago.”

Charity giggled. “I’ll bet you read every one.”

“A few,” he admitted, looking up at the book avo avoid the teasing glint in her eyes. “Come on, there is something over here that I want to show you.” He led her to the fireplace.

“Why do you have such huge fireplaces?” she asked. “This is even bigger than the one in the kitchen, and you could roast an ox in that one.”

“For flooing,” he said, watching for her reaction. Her brow knit into a pretty frown.

“Flooing?”

“It’s one way wizards travel.” He took a pink and green enameled urn from the mantel and showed her the powder inside. “This is floo powder. You take a pinch of it and toss it into the flames and they’ll turn green. Then you step into the fire and say the name of the place you want to go, and it will take you there. Or, at least, to the nearest fireplace.”

“Is it safe?” She looked skeptical.

“Very safe. Messy, but safe.” He went to a section of paneling to the right of the fireplace. “Here. This is what we came in here for.” He faced the panel, but hesitated, turning back to Charity.

“Charity,” he said, becoming serious, “what I’m about to show you is not just magical secrets, it’s a Snape family secret. You are the first person not related by birth or marriage who’s seen this in a long, long time.”

“Are you going to get into trouble for showing it to me?”

“No. My parents said it was all right. There’s no other way I can teach you magic. Just don’t talk about it too much in front of my dad. He’s...not quite as approving of the idea as my mum.”

“All right.”

She looked a bit uncomfortable but relaxed when he smiled. He pressed his palms against the panel, whispered a word, and it slid backward a few inches and then to the right, exposing a doorway.

“Oh, neat!” Charity exclaimed. “A secret passage.”

He reached inside the opening to take a lantern from a hook. He lit it before turning to her with an evil grin. “Step into my parlor.” She giggled as she followed him down the stone steps into the cool underground chamber. He watched as she turned in a slow circle to take in the contents of the room.

“This is my laboratory. Well, actually, it is the family laboratory, but I’m the only one using it right now.”

“And you can do magic down here?”

“Right. There are spells in the walls and the ceiling that prevent anyone from sensing the magic performed here from the outside. So,” he said, taking his wand from the back pocket of his pants, “I can do this. Luminarum.” All the lanterns in the room burst into light.

She gasped. “Oh, awesome.” He grinned and decided right there and then that he needed to meet some muggle girls. They were way too easy to impress.

“Will I be able to do that?”

“Yes, but first you need a wand.” From the worktable he took a canning jar, which held an assortment of old wands. “These wands belonged to various relatives. We should be able to find one in here that you could use.”

With his mother’s help, he had already selected three wands he thought the mostly likely to accept Charity’s magic. “We to to consider the fire aspect,” she told him. “Even though her personality might lend itself to one of the lighter wands, the fire will require something sturdier. I’d say hawthorn or ash. Ash rules the four elements, and is the most conducive to lightening, so I suspect tis tis the most likely. Maybe hazel, if the others don’t work.”

He handed her a hawthorn wand that had belonged to his paternal grandmother. “Take this and point it at the wall and wave it arou Cha Charity took the proffered wand with a loose grip. She began a slow, jerky circle with her whole arm, and he had to grab her forearm, shoving it aside. “Not toward my jars, please. And don’t be afraid of it. Hold it firmly and give it a swift wave. Toward the wall.”

Charity raised the wand and slashed it downward, like an assassin wielding a knife. The blast of power shoved her backward. Charity slammed into Severus’ chest, knocking the wind out of him. He grabbed her shoulders to steady them both.

“Okay. If there was any doubt about it before, we now know for certain you are a witch.”

“Was that supposed to happen?” she asked. She was blushing, not meeting his eyes, he he wondered what that was about.

“Only if you have the wrong wand. Too much resistance to the type of power you have.” He handed her an ash wand. “This might work better.”

She staggered a little with the second wand, and he handed her the third, another ash wand. “Whoa!” she exclaimed after waving it toward the wall. The glass jars on the nearby table vibrated, making a high-pitched hum. “That felt kind of like when I lose control, but all flowing through the wand.”

“That’s the one then. It belonged to my great grandfather. The one who burned down the old house. It seems appropriate,” he said with a smirk.

She gave him a mock frown. “So, does the wand conduct magic, kind of like metal conducts electricity.”

“I think so. The woods they use for wands are special. There is a bit of a magical object imbedded inside the wand, too. I don’t remember what is in that one. I’ll ask my dad if you are interested.” He told her about unicorn tails, phoenix feathers and dragon scales, while she listened in fascination. He noticed that she had stopped expressing disbelief that the creatures even existed.

The moment he stopped speaking she jumped in wit eag eager, “Can I try something now?”

He laughed. “Sure. Let’s see if you can levitate something.”

He set a piece of parchment on the worktable in front of her. “This is just about the first thing they taught me, and most wizards can do it with a few tries.” He showed her the ‘swish and flick’ and taught her the spell.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” she said. The parchment stirred, twisting back and forth against the table with a soft rasp. She glanced up at him as if seeking approval.

“Go ahead. Keep trying.”

Charity chewed her lower lip for a second and tried again. After two more tries she had the parchment in the air. She squealed in glee and the paper dropped to the table.

“Do you see the concentration it takes to keep the magic going?” he asked.

“Yes, it’s like...” she cocked her head to the side and thought. “It’s like squirting leaves with the hose. You have to aim it and keep it pointed at them, or they stop moving. And if you aim a little wrong, they go places you don’t want them to. Only, the magic is flowing right through me and through the wand.”

“Try it again, and when you get it in the air, try to move it around a bit by flicking your wand.”

Severus let Charity practice with the parchment until she could float it around the room. As she turned in slow circles, waving her arm like some kind of mad maestro, he leaned back against the cold, hard stones and tried to determine what was different about her that morning. It could not be the magic flowing through her, he thought. The magic had always been there. Her clothes wmuchmuch the same as usual, and she had not spoken or reacted in unexpected ways. He closed his eyes and thought of her as she had looked that first day, when she had crossed her arms over her chest, and glanced uneasily toward the road when he suggested they take a walk together.

Charity giggled and he opened his eyes to catch her levitating the parchment over his head. He blew it away with a sharp puff of breath and it fell to the floor.

“You had your eyes closed,” she said. “Are you tired?”

“No. Just having a think.” Charity grinned at him and levitated the parchment again. Seeing her smile, he realized that while she was working hard, it was play for her. She went at it with abandonment, and her smiles radiated pure happiness, as if she were smiling with her whole body. Every smile she had given him before seemed shallow in comparison, just for show. For some reason, the good feeling this gave him came tinged with an inexplicable trace of sadness.

“Would you like to try something else?” he asked.

She worked the parchment back to the worktable before answering. “Yes, please.”

“Let’s try to transfigure something next.” Severus reached for an old cigar box that rested on the worktable, and opened it to reveal an assortment of small items he had gathered for her. He extracted a wooden toothpick, which he set on the table between them. “Okay, transfiguration is turning a thing into something else.” He turned the toothpick into a needle and back, to the accompaniment of a ridiculously gratifying gasp of awe. It was embarrassing. He felt as if he were pulling something over on her.

“This is harder than levitation, but really, after you get the hang of it, it’s nothing,” he told her. He explained the theory for a few minutes and told her to try it. She waved her wand at the toothpick and nothing happened.

“Humph. Hufflepuff,” Severus said.

“What did you say?”

“Hufflepuff. It’s one of the houses.” When she blinked in confusion he explained, “When we first start at Hogwarts, every student puts on a magic hat that looks into their head and decides which house they belong to. You live in the dormitory with your housemates, and take classes together. There are four houses. Slytherin, that’s the best...”

“Your house, I take it,” she said, arching a brow.

“Of course. The Ravenclaws are supposed to be smart, and they are, but snobby and aloof. The Gryffindors are brave, which translates to foolishly reckless. The Hufflepuffs are not afraid to work hard, which means they have to because they’re so dense it’s the only way they manage.”

“Uh huh,” she said, making an exaggerated nod with each syllable. “So, you were insulting me.” Her lips were pursed tight around the smile that was trying to escape from them.

Hell. “Um.” Why did this girl make him blush so much? He never blushed at school, even when Potter talked Donna Applewood into asking him if he was a fag in front of a half dozen other girls in the library. “No. You’re Gryffindor material, I’m sure.”

“Foolishly reckless?”

She just would not let him off the hook. “Well, they have other admirable traits, and not all of them are reckless.”

She nodded again, smiling now in a superior way. “So, what are the traits of your house?”

He drew himself up and said with pride, “Slytherins are ambitious, motivated, and resourceful.”

“I see. So, that translates to...” she thought for a moment. “Ruthless?”

He tossed out every opinion he held about her. The girl was Circe and he was dinner. He opened his mouth to make a retort, but she was laughing.

“You deserved that. Hufflepuff,” she said with disgust.

“Can we just do this?” he asked. He hated to be laughed at.

They worked for nearly an hour. When she complained of being lightheaded, from concentrating for so long, he explained the various branches of magic to her while she rested. At last she looked at her watch and told him she must go.

“They are all going on a recruiting trip to a folk music festival tomorrow. I have to prepare food for the picnic baskets.”

“But you won’t go,” he said.

“No.” She grinned in anticipation. “They leave before dawn, and won’t be back until after dark and I have no chores or errands all day.” Her smile turned thoughtful. “You know, that used to be a real drag. I’d be so bored and lonely. Can I come over tomorrow? Would your father mind?”

“Spend the day,” he said without thinking.

“Or at least until we run out of things to talk about.”

His smile was evil. “If I get tired of you, I’ll lock you down here and make you practice magic until dark.”

She jutted out her chin in defiance. “I wouldn’t mind.”

He turned serious. “Actually, you need to practice as much as possible. It is the focus that you need for these exercises that will help you control yourself. Tomorrow, I’ll teach you some things you can do at home.” He swept the toothpick, button and pocket comb they had been working with back into the cigar box. With a word he extinguished the lanterns, leaving just the one hand lantern lit.

“It’s supposed to be warm, and I’m making picnic baskets anyway. We could go out to the pool.”

“That would be good. Bring a bathing suit, too.”

As she followed him up the stairs she asked, “So, that room was built just so the kids could do magic away from school?”

“Well, not exactly.” He set the lantern on its hook while he thought about what to say. He had already considered the problem of what to tell her about Dark Magic, but was hoping not to face it so soon. After a few seconds of waiting for his reply, she wore a puzzled frown.

“Are there magical things that are illegal?” she asked.

He reassessed her intellect. She was quick. “Right. My family has a history, you might say.”

“Ah, I see.” She gave him a smile that was almost coy, and watched him carefully as she asked, “So, do you carry on the family tradition?”

He could feel himself blush so hard his face burned. “Well...” Her smile drained away and was replaced with a look of disappointment. “Look, I dabble a bit. A lot of the really old families do it. I don’t hurt anybody, and I don’t do anything outside the room.”

They had been standing quite close together, but now Charity crossed her arms and turned away from him. She stared at the floor and idly slid the toe of her shoe left and right across a small section of carpet. He watched her for half a minute during which his hopes for any kind of friendship with her dwindled to yesterday’s ashes. How did this turn into a boggart so quickly? he wondered.

“So,” she said, “what kind of things are illegal for a wizard to do?”

“Things that hurt people, or force them to do things against their will.”

“Like what?”

“Well, there are spells that cause pain, and potions that can do the same thing. There a lot of potions, and hexes, and curses that cause temporary problems, like giving you a rash, or turning your head around backwards, or making you so forgetful you can’t remember your own name. The illegal ones do that permanently.” Severus watched her profile as she pursed her lips. He was growing frustrated and asked himself if it really mattered what she thought.

“Why would you want to know how to do things like that?”

He shrugged. “st dst do. I want to know how to make the potions and cast the spells just to see what they are like. I like to know how to do things.” She seemed to be considering this, so he went on. “Aren’t there things that muggle kids do that they shouldn’t, just to see what it’s like?”

“Well, yes, but....” She glanced at him. “There are kids that take drugs and things, but they aren’t the kind I hang around with.”

That stung. He folded his arms over his chest, mimicking her closed-off pose. “What kind of kids do you hang around with?” he asked with a little more harshness than he intended. “From what I see, your parents practically keep you locked up all day.”

She blushed and turned her head away. He kicked himself. She didn’t hang around with kids, and that was why this was as important to her as it was to him. Embarrassed at his blunder, he clammed up. They stood side by side in silence for a full minute, during which Severus tried to find reasons why he should care what a little mudblood witch thought about the magic he did, even if she were pretty. He failed to find any, but it did not matter. He still cared.

“I suppose,” Charity said at last, “that it’s not really the same thing. The kids I’ve seen who take drugs all end up destroying themselves, and their families, too. But, I guess if you’re not using the spells and stuff against anybody, it doesn’t really matter.” She twitched her lips as if she realized she was rationalizing, but was trying not to think about it.

“All I do is cast some spells at a spider or two, and make some potions that I eventually throw away.” He was not exactly telling the truth. Underneath one of the worktables was a whole boxful of vials of nasty potions that he had no intention of destroying. In addition to that, he had tested his spells and potions on all kinds of animals, including a dog once. That was just how it was done, and although he knew most pureblood wizards would consider it perfectly normal, he held out no hope that she would ever understand. It did not make him uncomfortable to lie to her about it. Severus kept all kinds of secrets.

“Anyway, I’m not going to teach you that stuff. You don’t have to do anything that makes you feel uncomfortable.”

She dropped her arms and looked at him with a trace of relief. “I suppose it’s okay, then.”

“Good,” he said, letting out a breath.

When he walked her to the door, she thanked him profusely for his help.

“Don’t worry about it. It was fun.” She ran down the steps, but turned to wave from bot bottom. “I want you to perform better than a Hufflepuff tomorrow, or I’ll be very angry.” She stuck out her tongue and he could hear her laughing as she ran across the lawn.



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A/N: All recognizable characters and trivia are the property of JK Rowling. All the remainder is exclusively mine.