Fire & Ice: War Games

‘Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterwards.’

Vernon Sanders Law


She waited nervously as the mediwitch applied her trade on the ill boy lying in the guest bedroom. She paced back and forth, unable to stay in one place as the fate of the Slytherin was decided outside her control. She always prided herself on the control she possessed, a strict code of discipline that had guided her since she was younger. She felt lost, naked, and exposed as the seconds stretched by without word on the young Slytherin’s condition.

For the first since graduating years before, she felt her Gryffindor courage waiver as the world outside the cottage began to stir and slip from the realm of Nox. The walls carefully constructed and reinforced, built for protection, were crumbling. The strict and seemly distant witch from the Lion’s Den felt the icy exterior crack, her heart wept for the child wrestling for his life at Death’s stoop. Something about the boy’s vulnerable situation evoked an unfamiliar emotion in her stern, unforgiving heart. She struggled to put a name, a label to the emotion flooding her being.

The witch chewed nervously on the inside of her cheek, struggling inwardly to identify the overwhelming sensation and drowning beneath it’s feather weight. In her experience, the emotions sweeping through her went deeper than sympathy or fear for the struggling Slytherin lying behind a closed door not twenty feet away. Exhausted from the internal interrogation, she collapsed in a nearby armchair.

A curdling scream penetrated the thin bedroom door, startling her. A new sense of terror swelled inside of the witch, her fingers dug into the padded material on the arms. She felt the last of her strength give way as her resolve shattered with the gut whinghing screams rocketing through the cottage. She frowned, remembering the first time their paths had crossed.




A thunder of noise greeted her as she slipped through the double doors of the Great Hall and stepped out onto the top landing of the square spiral staircase leading down to the lake. She stood against the wall, invisible to the new students packed together on the top set of stairs. From beneath the cover of the lingering shadows, she watched as they milled and chattered amongst themselves, already laying the foundations that would serve to support them for the next seven years.

A sandy blond and pale, thin boy was surrounded on all sides by three others. The boy on the right had wild, jet black hair and mischievous eyes were hidden beneath his wire rimmed glasses. He was joking with the boy standing behind and to the right of the first. Long, black hair framed his laughing face while the fourth boy, a brunette with dark highlights, sniggered. She shook her head, knowing that the beady eyed boy would be trouble.

Her eyes flickered over the others, briefly noting the bewildered green eyed girl absorbing the sight of the hallway. The witch’s eyes continued over the new faces before locking onto cold and calculating onyx eyes that were aged far beyond the years of the owner. Goose bumps ran up and down her spine as the raven haired boy held her gaze. He raised an eyebrow and tilted his head as though studying her, experimenting and searching for her invisible boundaries.

She felt as though the world had melted away and they were the only two left. Swallowing, she turned away from his scrutinizing gaze and addressed the new students. “Your attention!” The clatter of noise trickled away until the stairwell was blanketed in silence. Unconsciously, she glanced at the sallow skinned boy out of the corner of her eye. She shivered, the boy’s intense gaze seared into the core of her soul. “For the next seven years you will learn everything you’ll need to know within these walls to contribute to our world.”

Taking a deep breath, she continued. “Once you pass through these walls you will be sorted into one of the four houses. They are Huffelpuff, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Slytherin. While you are here, your house will be your family and each year the House Cup is awarded to the House with the most points at the end of each term feast. Good behavior is awarded with points and misbehavior is rewarded with demerits.” She turned and pushed open the large doors of the Great Hall before leading them inside.

As the days had gone by, they had quickly blurred into months before blossoming into years as the witch remained oblivious to the subtle passage of time. Unaware, the raven haired boy with ancient onyx eyes faded from her mind as she labored, tolling to save those students who were worthy under her Gryffindor biases. The night of the Shrieking Shack incident had changed everything, and a sense of forlorn guilt began to plague her, haunting her even in the realm of dreams.

She had been forced to reevaluate her judgment of those coined “forsaken,” and what she saw began to melt her icy shell of an exterior. The witch had made it her crusade to breach the seemingly impregnable fortress he had constructed around himself and zealously defended, before he was attacked. The simple thing she found herself enchanted with the most about the boy, was how much he was the essence of both his house and House mascot he possessed.




The door to the guest bedroom creaked open and a splinter of light cut across the room as she stepped inside quietly. Shaking her head, she hesitantly backed into the hallway as the boy’s onyx eyes flickered open. “Professor McGonagall?” Severus asked in a soft whisper, his voice choked with emotion and the strain of the two simple words. The boy’s insecurities and fears were written with each word he had spoke.

His soft whisper almost slipped past her as she closed the bedroom door, “yes Mr. Snape?”




Dim light illuminated the atmosphere inside the Leaky Cauldron as patrons mingled and socialized. Laughter rippled through the relaxed environment as pints of ale were spilt on the tables unnoticed and the barkeep leaned against the counter smoking a cigar as he listened to the endless stream of gossip humming inside his establishment. Smiles lit the faces of the pub’s patrons, all except two.

They sat in a far corner, conversing in low tones over warming pints of foam topped ales. An auburn haired wizard shook his head as his redheaded companion pounded the table top in frustration. “You’re either with us or against us, Atticus. There is, ..... there can be nothing else. “ The red haired wizard hissed persistently.

“There is always an alternative, even if it is unpopular.” The auburn haired wizard’s amber eyes shined with sympathy as his companion abruptly stood and knocked the chair backwards, letting it crash onto the floor.

The friendly chatter inside the pub fled as the eyes of everyone swerved in the direction of the disturbance. “I suggest you think long and hard about our conversation, Atticus.”

“For every action there is a counteraction” He raised an eyebrow, “you and you alone will be responsible.”

“We are taking our destiny into our own hands and you sit there while people die around you, fighting for you.”

“To be young, full of spite and vinegar again,” Atticus said wistfully as he watched the Gryffindor wizard storm outside into the cold December night. “The follies of youth will return to haunt you, my young friend.” Swallowing the last of his drink, he gestured to the barmaid for another to be brought to his table. For Atticus, the night was still young and there were plenty of memories left to drown.



A/N

I do not when exactly I will be able to update next as I have end of quarter exams that I must study for if I have any hopes of passing. But I promise I’ll write as much as I can, when I can.

This chapter beta-ed by Kate


maiden:

I’m flattered that you have compared my writing to that of Ms JK Rowling, though I can honestly say that I am not as good an author, I don’t try to be. Though her style of writing inspires mine. Chapter one was written specifically to introduce the second story, the characters were deliberately unnamed at the point so that they might be introduced gradually as the story progressed. I apologize if that particular style of writing chapter one confused you, it was not meant to. But as I like to leave clues as to the motives of each character without pointing them out, I find that writing styles such as that are extremely helpful.