The First Enochian Key
folder
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,206
Reviews:
47
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Harry Potter › General
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
11
Views:
5,206
Reviews:
47
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
The Wall of Severus
A/N:- This is kinda embarressing. Apparently the 17 year old rejected and neglected teen within me allowed themselves to be channeled to write this chapter. I apologise...BRING ON THE TEENAGE ANGST!!!
***************************************************
“The Wall of Severus…The Emperor Severus (146-211), who spent the last 3 years of his life in Britain, thoroughly strengthened the fortified line between Tyne and Solway originally constructed by Hadrian. His work was so extensive that some ancient authorities speak of him as the original builder.”
--Taken from Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. (2002) Revised by Adrian Room.
~*~
Severus sat in the darkness of his dungeon rooms at Hogwarts contemplating what promised to be another sadistic insertion of emotion and complication into what had established itself already to be a surrealistic nightmare of a life. His black eyes staring and unfocussed into the same shade of blackness that encompassed him, no warming fire in his hearth forever burning no tumbler of whisky to deaden the waves of anticipation that were presently threatening to deprive him of the already tenuous grip he had on his sanity.
Bloody Dumbledore.
Severus swore to himself that he would not be held accountable for his actions if blood flowed at his hands tonight. No bloody alcohol before the feast indeed. Be it on his head then.
All he had was the darkness that had surrounded him for the past fourteen years and the alcohol he used to lighten his world. And he so needed it now, for tonight he would be thrust further down the spiral towards purgatory. Or Hell. Which ever it was he wasn’t in now. Which ever it was would offer him a change of scenery at the very least. Or not. Maybe offer shades of gray, he wasn’t foolish enough to assume that after tonight’s events he would experience white. White. He scoffed at himself with the thought.
No bloody alcohol before the feast indeed.
He was 36 now and had been Potions Masto a o a bunch of maladroit juveniles and pubescent teens for 14 years, the only highlight of this station being his promotion to Head of Slytherin house a decade ago. And oh what fun had he had over the years. Wandering the hall of the castle during his oft bouts of insomnia his restless soul tormented him with. Drowning in the constant sea of parchment and rudimentary potions examinations that were submitted by hoards of lemmings and unappreciative students.
Students.
What a joke.
Being exposed day after miserable fucking day to their disrespect, their inferior attempts at magic and potions. Hell, just being subjected to them. Having to be in their presence persistently tested his self-control, his limits of patience indefatigably being pushed to the edge of the twilight of the line extricating Severus the Professor from Severus the Death Eater.
And all those little brats ever had to say about it was that he was a bastard. A Greasy git. They called him names when they thought they could get away with it. They slandered his reputation and spit on his intelligence. And when they were caught and made to suffer, it was always his fault. Never your fault.
Bastard.
He knew he was a bastard, but he didn’t care. Much better for the little brats to suffer with the bastard then a Death Eater. He could show them that yes. Little shit heads. They were fortunate that all they got was a bastard. He hated his life. He hated them and everything inside him was constantly swollen to the point where he wanted to explode in a violent rampage. To show all those surrounding him the exhilaration of a spontaneous blood lust. An orgy of death and animalistic gratification.
It had been fourteen years since his last kill. Fourteen years since his last rape. Fourteen years since his last blood lust. I love you Lily. And were the snotty nosed brats, some of who were the Mudbloods he spent the best time of his life pillaging, grateful that they had made it from his dominant position, both as their superior and Professor, relatively unscathed?
No.
Never any thank you, never any praise. Never any acknowledgement.
Ungrateful, moronic beings below his status.
Fuck. It wasn’t just the children though. His whole existence was below his status. Once molded to be a leader of his race. To be a King among Purebloods and Death Eaters alike. Trained as an asin ain and a skilled and feared interrogator. Now he was nothing. Reduced to being a ‘mentor’ (he shuddered at the thought) and cowered from now for the most pathetic reasons. Not feared because he was dangerous, he couldn’t touch a hair on their pretty little innocent heads, even though he sometimes desperately wanted too. No, he was feared because he could hand out detentions, deduct house points and possessed a well-rehearsed sneer of distain to ready and willingly thrust upon anyone who crossed his path.
How. Fucking. Pathetic.
If only his father could see him now. What his mother’s attentions would involve as punishment for his failure.
Below your status, Severus
The once highly ranked and respected feared rapist and murderer, now credited with the profoundly difficult ability to bring tears of humiliation to the eyes of his \'charges\'. To have them running to the Headmaster crying and whining about Big Bad Professor Snape. Asking for their Mummy’s and Daddy’s.
Merlin spare him!
Yes. Most disappointing Severus.
Fucking pathetic.
I love you Lucius. Still.
But had any of those that had graduated over the years thanked him for his self-restraint? Realized they had lived and survived for seven years in the classroom and home of a remorseless killer? Did any of them dare to mention or even think the consecrated name of the one who saved them from what fate could have awaited if it had not been for her sacrifice? Did they give up offerings and thanks for the broken man she had created? They should. By all that is Holy in their world they should make themselves aware. And become aware of what they had escaped. For if had not been for her death, their blood would have run freely through the corridors of Hogwarts, and a new age of evil would have ruled their perfect little worlds. And they would be cowering from him for entirely different reasons. All for the sake of acknowledgement. All for the lack of appreciation.
Just one small gesture of thanks could have saved them all.
But they would never know that. And none of them would ever know him. Forever languishing in his egocentric little world of desire and fantasy. His secret anti-haven of loss and defeat. But it had drawn in something else over the years. And this something was what the students and faculty for that matter knew nothing about. When they called him names, spat on him and humiliated him, they had no idea of the inner turmoil that raged within him.
No one was aware of his new little secret.
No one knew that after his long days of instruction that he would retreat to numb himself from his students what a joke ineptitude with a bottle of firewhiskey. Every night. That after consuming the whole bottle he would stalk the corridors, relishing in his perverse desire to catch copulating teens. That he would return to his rooms, after stripping the children of their pride and copious amounts of house points, and cry from the pain of his jealousy over the situation. That he envied everyone he caught in the warm embrace of their childhood sweetheart and wishing that he had experienced the same just once with his Beautiful. Mudblood trash.
No one would ever know that after his tears subsided every night that he would transfigure his much loved and used blade and run it across his body. That he would virtually orgasm at the sight, scent and feel of the warm blood, his blood, running from his wrists, his abdomen, his back, his legs and arms. That he had pain too. And it was slowly killing him.
No one would ever know until the day he built up the courage to do the job correctly. And they would find his lifeless body sometime afterwards. And then they would feel the guilt that he had lived with. Know what it was like to fail. To not acknowledge what was right in front of your eyes because you were blinded by petty prejudices.
Everything Severus had done the past fourteen years had been in penance of his failure to his Beautiful. I love you Lily. He had fought the recurring dreams and insistent voices of his parents, of Lucius and Lord Voldemort, to prove to himself that he was good enough to be with a creature of purity like Lily. Mudblood trash. His self-induced social inferiority, Severus’ silent and eternal apology to her. But something after tonight he wasn’t sure if he could face. This repentance unsustainable in light of the new and most tormenting addition to his life since that night.
All it would have taken to wipe all of this from him was an act of gratitude. Even acknowledgement. Better yet, an unselfish show of love. Someone who took it upon themselves to reach out to him.
Because he could love. And he wanted to love. He just needed to be shown how.
But none of it mattered anymore. He would never be able to redeem himself after tonight, for tonight Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts. The son that should have been born to Severus and his beautiful. Mudblood trash
I love you Lily
Bloody Dumbledore.
No bloody alcohol before the feast indeed.
*****************************************************
Acknowledgements...
Daya:- Am currently making headway in the outline of your plans for world domination my Queen...I most certainly hope that you will be pleased with my vastly inferior abilities though...thank you for your faith in one of your loyals...I owe you much xxx
WendyNat :- Inhale , exhale...please feel free to breathe normally now...I would prefer not to have you suffocate yourself...before this story is completed that is *cheeky grin* (or your latest either for that matter)..Thank you once again and I hope that this chapter was not too much of a disappointment. xxx
Rilla:- I have lived to see the day when I make you speechless..I can now die in peace..Thank you, from the very bottom of my cold, cold heart...xxx P.S...I really enjoy playing this game with you!!!
Talene:- I have always had a thing for Riff Raff myself..I really don\'t know why...Always found him to be hardcore I suppose...Yes, I am a loser..I know...Thank you once againxxx
Nesscafe:- I am grateful for your reviews because in each you have demonstrated and relayed the precise emotions and effects that I had hoped that each of my chapters would have upon my readers..Despite some minor lingering doubts, it seems for the most part that I have succeeded in what I have attempted... thank you for taking the time and for your honesty..It has let me know that I am doing it right..xxx
Fish:- Never, ever rush caffeine...rush reviews, rush your story, rush your climax...but never ever rush your coffee...It will grow teeth and bite you in the arse if you do...It must be savored...thank you for your support..xxx
Tigress:- Excellent! Sounds like a plan...I\'ll bring the booze you bring the Potions Master...You will not be permitted into the country otherwise...I shall see to it personally *evil grin*.. I am glad, as always you are enjoying my ramblings...You are definitely my kind of person!!! Thank you xxx
***************************************************
“The Wall of Severus…The Emperor Severus (146-211), who spent the last 3 years of his life in Britain, thoroughly strengthened the fortified line between Tyne and Solway originally constructed by Hadrian. His work was so extensive that some ancient authorities speak of him as the original builder.”
--Taken from Brewer’s Dictionary of Phrase and Fable. (2002) Revised by Adrian Room.
~*~
Severus sat in the darkness of his dungeon rooms at Hogwarts contemplating what promised to be another sadistic insertion of emotion and complication into what had established itself already to be a surrealistic nightmare of a life. His black eyes staring and unfocussed into the same shade of blackness that encompassed him, no warming fire in his hearth forever burning no tumbler of whisky to deaden the waves of anticipation that were presently threatening to deprive him of the already tenuous grip he had on his sanity.
Bloody Dumbledore.
Severus swore to himself that he would not be held accountable for his actions if blood flowed at his hands tonight. No bloody alcohol before the feast indeed. Be it on his head then.
All he had was the darkness that had surrounded him for the past fourteen years and the alcohol he used to lighten his world. And he so needed it now, for tonight he would be thrust further down the spiral towards purgatory. Or Hell. Which ever it was he wasn’t in now. Which ever it was would offer him a change of scenery at the very least. Or not. Maybe offer shades of gray, he wasn’t foolish enough to assume that after tonight’s events he would experience white. White. He scoffed at himself with the thought.
No bloody alcohol before the feast indeed.
He was 36 now and had been Potions Masto a o a bunch of maladroit juveniles and pubescent teens for 14 years, the only highlight of this station being his promotion to Head of Slytherin house a decade ago. And oh what fun had he had over the years. Wandering the hall of the castle during his oft bouts of insomnia his restless soul tormented him with. Drowning in the constant sea of parchment and rudimentary potions examinations that were submitted by hoards of lemmings and unappreciative students.
Students.
What a joke.
Being exposed day after miserable fucking day to their disrespect, their inferior attempts at magic and potions. Hell, just being subjected to them. Having to be in their presence persistently tested his self-control, his limits of patience indefatigably being pushed to the edge of the twilight of the line extricating Severus the Professor from Severus the Death Eater.
And all those little brats ever had to say about it was that he was a bastard. A Greasy git. They called him names when they thought they could get away with it. They slandered his reputation and spit on his intelligence. And when they were caught and made to suffer, it was always his fault. Never your fault.
Bastard.
He knew he was a bastard, but he didn’t care. Much better for the little brats to suffer with the bastard then a Death Eater. He could show them that yes. Little shit heads. They were fortunate that all they got was a bastard. He hated his life. He hated them and everything inside him was constantly swollen to the point where he wanted to explode in a violent rampage. To show all those surrounding him the exhilaration of a spontaneous blood lust. An orgy of death and animalistic gratification.
It had been fourteen years since his last kill. Fourteen years since his last rape. Fourteen years since his last blood lust. I love you Lily. And were the snotty nosed brats, some of who were the Mudbloods he spent the best time of his life pillaging, grateful that they had made it from his dominant position, both as their superior and Professor, relatively unscathed?
No.
Never any thank you, never any praise. Never any acknowledgement.
Ungrateful, moronic beings below his status.
Fuck. It wasn’t just the children though. His whole existence was below his status. Once molded to be a leader of his race. To be a King among Purebloods and Death Eaters alike. Trained as an asin ain and a skilled and feared interrogator. Now he was nothing. Reduced to being a ‘mentor’ (he shuddered at the thought) and cowered from now for the most pathetic reasons. Not feared because he was dangerous, he couldn’t touch a hair on their pretty little innocent heads, even though he sometimes desperately wanted too. No, he was feared because he could hand out detentions, deduct house points and possessed a well-rehearsed sneer of distain to ready and willingly thrust upon anyone who crossed his path.
How. Fucking. Pathetic.
If only his father could see him now. What his mother’s attentions would involve as punishment for his failure.
Below your status, Severus
The once highly ranked and respected feared rapist and murderer, now credited with the profoundly difficult ability to bring tears of humiliation to the eyes of his \'charges\'. To have them running to the Headmaster crying and whining about Big Bad Professor Snape. Asking for their Mummy’s and Daddy’s.
Merlin spare him!
Yes. Most disappointing Severus.
Fucking pathetic.
I love you Lucius. Still.
But had any of those that had graduated over the years thanked him for his self-restraint? Realized they had lived and survived for seven years in the classroom and home of a remorseless killer? Did any of them dare to mention or even think the consecrated name of the one who saved them from what fate could have awaited if it had not been for her sacrifice? Did they give up offerings and thanks for the broken man she had created? They should. By all that is Holy in their world they should make themselves aware. And become aware of what they had escaped. For if had not been for her death, their blood would have run freely through the corridors of Hogwarts, and a new age of evil would have ruled their perfect little worlds. And they would be cowering from him for entirely different reasons. All for the sake of acknowledgement. All for the lack of appreciation.
Just one small gesture of thanks could have saved them all.
But they would never know that. And none of them would ever know him. Forever languishing in his egocentric little world of desire and fantasy. His secret anti-haven of loss and defeat. But it had drawn in something else over the years. And this something was what the students and faculty for that matter knew nothing about. When they called him names, spat on him and humiliated him, they had no idea of the inner turmoil that raged within him.
No one was aware of his new little secret.
No one knew that after his long days of instruction that he would retreat to numb himself from his students what a joke ineptitude with a bottle of firewhiskey. Every night. That after consuming the whole bottle he would stalk the corridors, relishing in his perverse desire to catch copulating teens. That he would return to his rooms, after stripping the children of their pride and copious amounts of house points, and cry from the pain of his jealousy over the situation. That he envied everyone he caught in the warm embrace of their childhood sweetheart and wishing that he had experienced the same just once with his Beautiful. Mudblood trash.
No one would ever know that after his tears subsided every night that he would transfigure his much loved and used blade and run it across his body. That he would virtually orgasm at the sight, scent and feel of the warm blood, his blood, running from his wrists, his abdomen, his back, his legs and arms. That he had pain too. And it was slowly killing him.
No one would ever know until the day he built up the courage to do the job correctly. And they would find his lifeless body sometime afterwards. And then they would feel the guilt that he had lived with. Know what it was like to fail. To not acknowledge what was right in front of your eyes because you were blinded by petty prejudices.
Everything Severus had done the past fourteen years had been in penance of his failure to his Beautiful. I love you Lily. He had fought the recurring dreams and insistent voices of his parents, of Lucius and Lord Voldemort, to prove to himself that he was good enough to be with a creature of purity like Lily. Mudblood trash. His self-induced social inferiority, Severus’ silent and eternal apology to her. But something after tonight he wasn’t sure if he could face. This repentance unsustainable in light of the new and most tormenting addition to his life since that night.
All it would have taken to wipe all of this from him was an act of gratitude. Even acknowledgement. Better yet, an unselfish show of love. Someone who took it upon themselves to reach out to him.
Because he could love. And he wanted to love. He just needed to be shown how.
But none of it mattered anymore. He would never be able to redeem himself after tonight, for tonight Harry Potter was coming to Hogwarts. The son that should have been born to Severus and his beautiful. Mudblood trash
I love you Lily
Bloody Dumbledore.
No bloody alcohol before the feast indeed.
*****************************************************
Acknowledgements...
Daya:- Am currently making headway in the outline of your plans for world domination my Queen...I most certainly hope that you will be pleased with my vastly inferior abilities though...thank you for your faith in one of your loyals...I owe you much xxx
WendyNat :- Inhale , exhale...please feel free to breathe normally now...I would prefer not to have you suffocate yourself...before this story is completed that is *cheeky grin* (or your latest either for that matter)..Thank you once again and I hope that this chapter was not too much of a disappointment. xxx
Rilla:- I have lived to see the day when I make you speechless..I can now die in peace..Thank you, from the very bottom of my cold, cold heart...xxx P.S...I really enjoy playing this game with you!!!
Talene:- I have always had a thing for Riff Raff myself..I really don\'t know why...Always found him to be hardcore I suppose...Yes, I am a loser..I know...Thank you once againxxx
Nesscafe:- I am grateful for your reviews because in each you have demonstrated and relayed the precise emotions and effects that I had hoped that each of my chapters would have upon my readers..Despite some minor lingering doubts, it seems for the most part that I have succeeded in what I have attempted... thank you for taking the time and for your honesty..It has let me know that I am doing it right..xxx
Fish:- Never, ever rush caffeine...rush reviews, rush your story, rush your climax...but never ever rush your coffee...It will grow teeth and bite you in the arse if you do...It must be savored...thank you for your support..xxx
Tigress:- Excellent! Sounds like a plan...I\'ll bring the booze you bring the Potions Master...You will not be permitted into the country otherwise...I shall see to it personally *evil grin*.. I am glad, as always you are enjoying my ramblings...You are definitely my kind of person!!! Thank you xxx