The Attic Library - Three Months Later
The Evans house attic had been transformed into something that looked like a cross between a library and a war room. Cushions pilfered from every bedroom and the living room created a sprawling seating area among the dusty beams. An old Persian rug—one Mrs. Evans had been meaning to donate to charity—now covered the splintered wooden floor. Severus's enchanted candle flickered in the center of it all, casting dancing shadows that made the sloped ceiling seem alive with movement.
Books were everywhere. Not just a few scattered volumes, but towers upon towers of ancient texts, their leather bindings cracked with age and their pages brittle as autumn leaves. They balanced precariously on windowsills, spread in careful formations across the floor, and filled every available surface. Most bore the telltale signs of having been hidden away for years—dusty, neglected, but lovingly preserved.
Natalia sat in the middle of this literary chaos like a copper-haired general surveying her troops. At ten, she'd grown into her sharp features, all angles and intensity with eyes that seemed to catch and hold every flicker of candlelight. She had five books open around her in a careful pentagon pattern and was somehow managing to cross-reference all of them while taking notes in a sixth notebook balanced on her crossed legs.
"This is absolutely mental," Lily announced from her sprawl across several cushions, her red hair fanned out around her head like a halo. She was holding a book above her face, squinting at symbols that looked like they'd been carved by someone having a seizure. "These runes don't look like any kind of writing system. They look like a drunk pixie tried to draw a map while riding a particularly bouncy unicorn."
"They're not random scribbles," Severus said with the patience of someone who'd had this conversation many times before. He was sitting against the far wall, back straight, surrounded by carefully organized stacks of books sorted by subject and difficulty level. His pale fingers were stained with ink, and there were at least three different colors of notes scattered around him. "They're ancient symbols representing complex magical concepts that have been used for over a thousand years."
"Complex magical concepts that look like abstract art created during a earthquake," Lily countered cheerfully, never lowering her book.
Natalia glanced up from her fevered note-taking, a smirk playing at her lips. "She's not entirely wrong, you know. This symbol here?" She tapped a particularly angular rune with her quill. "Looks exactly like a giraffe having an identity crisis."
Severus leaned forward, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. Despite himself, he studied the rune she'd indicated. "That's the ancient symbol for self-transformation, one of the most fundamental concepts in—" He paused, tilting his head. "Actually, it does look rather like a confused giraffe."
"Ha!" Lily sat up triumphantly, her book tumbling into her lap. "I told you! Confused giraffe rune. Much easier to remember than 'ancient symbol for self-transformation.'"
"You can't just rename established magical terminology because it amuses you," Severus protested, though he was clearly fighting a smile.
"Watch me," Lily declared. She flipped through several pages, pointing at different symbols. "This one's obviously a startled hedgehog. This one's a melancholy butterfly. And this—" She held up the book so they could all see. "This is definitely a spider having an existential crisis."
"Those are the runes for protection, change, and wisdom respectively," Severus said weakly.
"Startled hedgehog, melancholy butterfly, and existentially-confused spider," Lily said firmly. "Trust me, I'll never forget them now."
Natalia was watching this exchange with barely contained glee, her green eyes bright with mischief. "You know what? That's actually brilliant."
"Don't encourage her," Severus groaned, running a hand through his hair.
"Too late!" Lily announced. "I'm going to revolutionize magical education through the power of emotionally-complex animal analogies. They'll write songs about my innovative teaching methods."
"They'll write something about you," Natalia said dryly. "Though I'm not sure 'songs' is the word I'd use."
"Complaints. They'll write complaints," Severus muttered, but his tone was fond rather than truly annoyed.
"Complaints from stuffy old professors who lack imagination," Lily said dismissively. "I'll be too busy changing the world to care about their hurt feelings."
"You haven't even gotten your Hogwarts letter yet and you're already planning educational reform," Natalia observed, making another note in her ever-present notebook. "I'm simultaneously impressed and concerned."
"Concern is just fear wearing a fancy hat," Lily said solemnly, then immediately ruined the profound effect by dissolving into giggles.
Severus shook his head, but his expression was warm. There was something about the twins' easy laughter that seemed to chip away at the careful walls he'd built around himself. Here, in this dusty attic surrounded by ancient knowledge and illuminated by magical candlelight, he could almost forget about the world outside—about the shouting that echoed through his own house, about the way his father's face twisted when magic was mentioned, about the careful silence his mother maintained to keep the peace.
They worked in comfortable quiet for a while after that, the only sounds the scratch of quills on parchment and the occasional rustle of turning pages. Severus had fallen into the methodical rhythm he preferred—reading, analyzing, cross-referencing, making precise notes in his careful handwriting. Natalia flitted between her various open books like a hummingbird, somehow absorbing information from multiple sources simultaneously while filling page after page with observations that seemed to connect concepts from completely different magical disciplines. Lily read more slowly but with deep concentration, pausing frequently to ask questions or make connections that often surprised both her companions with their insight.
It was Lily who eventually broke the peaceful silence.
"Severus," she said thoughtfully, not looking up from her book on elementary transfiguration theory. "I keep meaning to ask—how did your mother end up with such an extensive collection of advanced magical texts? Some of these are fourth-year materials, and this one—" She held up a particularly thick volume bound in midnight-blue leather. "This says it's a seventh-year Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook."
Severus's hand stilled on the page he'd been turning. The question hung in the dusty air like incense, heavy and expectant. When he finally answered, his voice was carefully controlled.
"She was... different, before," he said quietly. "Before she married my father. Before she had me. She was brilliant at Hogwarts. Top of her class in Potions, outstanding in Defense Against the Dark Arts, received special recognition for her work in Ancient Runes."
"What changed?" Lily asked gently, and Natalia looked up from her notes, suddenly very still and attentive.
Severus was quiet for a long moment, his dark eyes fixed on the book in his lap. When he spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.
"My father happened."
The words fell into the silence like stones into deep water.
"He doesn't like magic," Severus continued, still not looking at either of them. "Says it's unnatural. Dangerous. That it corrupts people, makes them think they're better than they are. She... she stopped practicing to keep him happy. To keep the peace."
Natalia's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. "But she kept the books."
It wasn't a question. Her voice held the kind of flat certainty that meant she'd already figured out more than Severus had said.
"Hidden them," Severus confirmed. "In an old trunk in their attic, buried under moth-eaten blankets and Christmas decorations. She probably thought he'd forgotten they existed, or maybe she hoped he never knew about them in the first place."
"Smart woman," Natalia murmured. "Knowledge is too valuable to destroy, even if circumstances prevent you from using it."
"Is that why we're sitting here reading fourth-year Defense texts when we haven't even gotten our Hogwarts letters yet?" Lily asked, gesturing around their makeshift study space.
"Partly," Natalia said. She closed one of her books with a soft thump and leaned back against a pile of cushions, studying her two companions with that penetrating stare that always made them feel like she could see directly into their souls. "But mostly because I have a theory."
"Oh no," Severus said with mock dread. "Not another theory."
"Your theories tend to be either brilliant or terrifying," Lily added. "Sometimes both."
"This one's definitely both," Natalia said cheerfully. "Want to hear it?"
"Do we have a choice?" Severus asked.
"Not really."
"Then by all means, enlighten us with your wisdom, oh oracle of the attic," Lily said with exaggerated formality.
Natalia grinned at the title, then her expression grew more serious. "The thing is, I don't think the three of us are going to have an easy time at Hogwarts."
"What do you mean?" Lily asked, though something in her sister's tone made her sit up straighter.
Natalia was quiet for a moment, her fingers drumming against her knee in the nervous pattern she'd developed when working through particularly complex problems.
"Think about it logically," she said finally. "Severus, you're brilliant—probably more naturally gifted than half the pure-bloods who'll walk through those doors—but you're also a half-blood from Spinner's End with a Muggle father who despises magic. That's going to make some people... uncomfortable."
Severus's face had gone carefully blank, but his hands had tightened on his book.
"Lily and I are Muggle-born twins who've been doing accidental magic since we could walk," Natalia continued. "We have no connections to the wizarding world, no famous relatives, no old money or prestigious family names to smooth our way. In some circles, that makes us nobody. In others, it makes us a threat."
"That's a rather pessimistic view of our prospects," Lily said quietly.
"It's a realistic view," Natalia corrected. "I'm not saying everyone will think that way, but enough will that we need to be prepared for it."
"So what do you suggest?" Severus asked. His voice was steady, but there was something sharp and hungry in his dark eyes—the look he got when presented with a problem he wanted to solve.
"We make ourselves undeniable," Natalia said simply. "We learn everything we can before we even set foot in that castle. We master spells other first-years have never heard of. We understand magical theory that some seventh-years struggle with. We become so obviously talented, so clearly gifted, that anyone who tries to dismiss us just looks foolish."
Lily was processing this, chewing on her lower lip the way she did when thinking hard. "You want us to essentially skip our first year academically."
"I want us to be so prepared for our first year that it feels like a review instead of a challenge," Natalia clarified. "I want us to walk into every class knowing more than anyone expects, understanding concepts that impress our professors, demonstrating skills that make our classmates take notice."
"That's..." Severus paused, clearly thinking through the implications. "That's actually brilliant. Dangerous, but brilliant."
"All the best plans are dangerous," Natalia said with satisfaction. "That's how you know they might actually work."
"But there's more to it than that, isn't there?" Severus continued, studying her face with that analytical expression he got when trying to solve a particularly complex puzzle. "You're not just worried about academic success or social acceptance. You're worried about something bigger."
"What do you mean?" Lily asked, looking between her sister and their friend.
Natalia met Severus's gaze for a long moment, and something passed between them—a recognition, an understanding that went deeper than words.
"You see it too, don't you?" she said quietly.
"The shadows gathering at the edges of things?" Severus asked just as quietly. "The feeling that the world is holding its breath, waiting for something to happen?"
"Yes."
Lily looked back and forth between them, a frown creasing her brow. "What are you two talking about? You're being cryptic again."
Natalia sighed and ran a hand through her copper curls. "I keep having dreams, Lil."
"What kind of dreams?" Lily asked immediately, all traces of teasing gone from her voice.
"Dark ones. About a war that's coming. About people being forced to choose sides. About families torn apart and friends turned into enemies." Natalia's voice was distant now, as if she was looking at something only she could see. "About the three of us being separated."
The attic went very still. Even the candle flame seemed to pause in its dancing.
"Talia," Lily said softly, "they're just dreams. They don't have to mean anything."
"Maybe not," Natalia said. "But what if they do? What if there really is something coming, and we need to be ready for it?"
Severus was watching her with an expression that was part concern, part fascination, part recognition. "How long have you been having these dreams?"
"Since I was little. They used to be vague, more like feelings than actual visions. But lately they've been getting clearer. More detailed. More..." She searched for the word. "More urgent."
"What do you see?" Severus asked quietly.
Natalia was silent for a long moment, staring at the flickering candle. When she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper.
"Masks. People in masks, hurting others just because they can. A school that should be safe becoming a battleground. Students our age being forced to make choices no child should have to make." She looked up at her two best friends, and her green eyes were bright with unshed tears. "The three of us, older, standing on opposite sides of a conflict that tears the wizarding world apart."
"That's not going to happen," Lily said firmly. "We're friends. That doesn't change just because we go to school or grow up or face difficult times."
"Friends don't always stay friends," Natalia said quietly. "People change. They find new loyalties, new priorities. They make choices that lead them down different paths."
"Not us," Severus said, and there was something almost fierce in his voice. "We're not like other people, Natalia. We don't abandon the people who matter to us."
Natalia looked at him then, really looked at him, and saw something in his dark eyes that made her breath catch. There was loyalty there, yes, but also something deeper—a desperate kind of devotion that she recognized because she felt it too. The bond between the three of them wasn't just friendship. It was family, chosen and fierce and unbreakable.
At least, she hoped it was unbreakable.
"You're right," she said softly. "We're not like other people."
"We're family," Lily said suddenly, reaching out to grab both their hands. "Not by blood—well, Talia and I are by blood, but you know what I mean—but by choice. And families stick together."
"Even when things get complicated?" Severus asked, his fingers tightening around Lily's hand in a way that made Natalia's heart ache a little. She could see the feelings written across his face as clearly as if he'd announced them—the way his eyes softened when he looked at her sister, the careful gentleness in his voice when he spoke to her, the protective instinct that flared whenever Lily was upset or worried.
He was in love with her. Had been for months now, though Natalia doubted either of them fully understood what they were feeling yet. They were only ten, after all, and love at ten was a complicated thing—more like intense devotion mixed with the desperate need to protect and be protected.
She could have teased him about it. Should have, really, according to the unofficial rules of sibling relationships. But something about the vulnerability in his expression stopped her. Some instinct that told her this was too important, too fragile, to risk with careless words.
Instead, she just squeezed his other hand and said, "Especially when things get complicated."
"Besides," Lily added, "complicated is more interesting than boring."
"Everything's more interesting than boring, according to your sister," Severus said, and the moment of intense emotion passed, replaced by their usual easy banter.
"That's because boring is the enemy of progress," Natalia declared solemnly. "Boring people don't change the world."
"Are we planning to change the world now?" Lily asked, amused.
"Why not? We've got time," Natalia said with a shrug. "And talent. And an extensive library of advanced magical texts that most people our age have never even seen."
"Don't forget devastatingly good looks and natural charisma," Severus added dryly.
"Speak for yourself," Lily said, grinning. "I'm obviously the devastatingly good-looking one in this group."
"Obviously," Natalia agreed. "The rest of us are just here to make you look better by comparison."
"Exactly. I'm glad we're all clear on the hierarchy."
"What hierarchy?" Severus asked with mock indignation. "I'll have you know I'm considered quite attractive by certain demographics."
"What demographics?" Natalia asked with interest. "Bats? Vampires? People who find brooding mysterious instead of just moody?"
"I don't brood," Severus protested.
"You absolutely brood," Lily said. "You brood professionally. If brooding were an academic subject, you'd get Outstanding marks."
"I'm contemplative," Severus corrected. "There's a difference."
"Contemplative people think deep thoughts," Natalia said. "Brooding people think the same dramatic thought over and over while staring moodily into the distance."
"I don't stare moodily into the distance!"
"You're doing it right now," Lily pointed out.
Severus realized he was indeed gazing dramatically toward the attic window and quickly looked away, his pale cheeks flushing slightly. "That was... strategic observation of our surroundings."
"Strategic brooding," Natalia said wisely. "The most dangerous kind."
"I give up," Severus declared, throwing his hands in the air. "You're both impossible."
"We're delightful," Lily corrected. "You're just too broody to appreciate our natural charm."
"There's that word again."
"If the dramatically billowing cloak fits..."
"I'm not wearing a cloak!"
"Yet," Natalia added ominously. "Give it a few years."
They dissolved into laughter then, the serious mood of earlier completely broken. For a few minutes they were just three ten-year-olds sitting in an attic, teasing each other and reveling in the joy of friendship.
But eventually they settled back into their studies, and the weight of what they were trying to accomplish descended on them again. These weren't just textbooks they were reading—they were preparation for a future that might be more challenging than any of them wanted to admit.
"You know," Lily said thoughtfully as she returned to her Ancient Runes text, "even if your dreams do come true, Talia, even if there really is some kind of war coming... at least we'll face it together."
"Together," Severus agreed quietly.
"Together," Natalia echoed, and for the first time since the dreams had started getting clearer, she felt a small spark of hope kindle in her chest.
Whatever darkness was gathering on the horizon, they would meet it as they had met everything else—as a team, as family, as three children who had found each other just in time to become the people they needed to be.
"Same time tomorrow?" Severus asked as they began gathering up their books and notes.
"Wouldn't miss it," Natalia said. "But tomorrow we're moving on to fourth-year Defense Against the Dark Arts."
"Fourth-year?" Lily squeaked. "We haven't even finished second-year materials!"
"We've been through most of the second-year curriculum," Natalia said dismissively. "Time to challenge ourselves."
"Your definition of 'challenging ourselves' is going to get us killed," Severus said, but he was already reaching for the Defense text in question.
"Better to die gloriously while attempting greatness than to live safely in mediocrity," Natalia declared.
"That's the most dramatic thing you've ever said," Lily informed her. "And that's including the time you gave that speech about the philosophical implications of chocolate frogs."
"That was a very important speech about the ethics of consuming sentient magical confections!"
"It was a ten-minute rant about candy, Talia."
"It was a nuanced exploration of—"
"It was about candy."
"Fine, it was about candy. But it was deep candy-related philosophy."
Severus was shaking his head, but he was smiling. "You two are going to drive me completely insane before we even get to Hogwarts."
"That's the plan," Natalia said cheerfully. "Insanity builds character."
"How does insanity build character?"
"It forces you to think creatively," Lily said, falling easily into her sister's twisted logic. "Sanity is limiting. Insanity opens up whole new possibilities."
"That's the most terrifying educational philosophy I've ever heard," Severus said.
"Education should be terrifying," Natalia said solemnly. "If you're not at least a little scared of what you're learning, you're not learning anything worthwhile."
"Is that why you keep pushing us to study material that's years above our level?"
"I keep pushing us because I want us to be extraordinary," Natalia said, and suddenly her voice was completely serious again. "Not just good. Not just talented. Extraordinary. The kind of extraordinary that changes things, that matters, that makes a difference."
"And if we're not naturally extraordinary?" Severus asked quietly.
"Then we'll make ourselves extraordinary through hard work and determination and sheer bloody-minded refusal to accept anything less than greatness," Natalia replied without hesitation.
Lily was looking between her sister and their friend with something like awe. "When did we become so ambitious?"
"When we realized the world wasn't going to hand us anything on a silver platter," Natalia said. "When we decided that being underestimated was an advantage we could use instead of a disadvantage we had to overcome."
"When we became a team," Severus added quietly.
"When we became family," Lily corrected.
And there it was again—that word that encompassed everything they were to each other, everything they'd chosen to become. Not just friends, but something deeper and more binding. Three children who had found each other in a garden full of magic and decided to build something unbreakable together.
"Same time tomorrow," Natalia said as they carefully packed away the borrowed books. "And remember—"
"Knowledge is power, power is protection, and protection is what keeps families safe," Lily and Severus recited in unison.
"Exactly." Natalia blew out the enchanted candle, plunging the attic into the softer glow of late afternoon sunlight filtering through dusty windows. "Now let's go see if we can convince Mum to make those sandwiches with the crusts cut off."
"The ones you claim help with memory retention?" Severus asked dryly.
"Hey, proper nutrition is essential for optimal brain function. It's basic magical theory."
"That's not magical theory, that's just common sense."
"Same thing, really."
As they made their way down from the attic, still arguing good-naturedly about the relationship between sandwich preparation and academic performance, none of them noticed the shadow that seemed to linger just a moment too long in the corner where the candlelight had been strongest.
Some shadows, after all, are drawn to places where bright lights gather to plan for darker days ahead.
—
The streets of Spinner's End were as grim and grey as ever, but tonight they didn't feel quite so big.
Severus walked with his satchel slung over his shoulder, one hand in his pocket, his shoulders slightly hunched against the faint chill coming off the river. The air here was always damp and heavy—thick with the tang of metal and something else, something acrid that always clung to his hair and skin like disappointment. The cobblestones were slick underfoot, whispering under his shoes.
"'You can't just rename ancient magical terminology because it amuses you,'" he muttered to himself, lips quirking faintly. "She says watch me. Insufferable."
But he couldn't quite stop the ghost of a smile from forming. Merlin help him, Natalia Evans was insufferable—and brilliant.
Even now, as he passed under the cracked gaslamp at the corner, her voice rang in his head.
"We'll make ourselves extraordinary through hard work and determination and sheer bloody-minded refusal to accept anything less than greatness."
The words had rooted somewhere deep in him, curling tight like a thorny vine.
Because she was right.
There was no world where Tobias Snape would ever look at his son and see anything but a mistake. There was no world where Eileen Snape would stop apologizing for existing long enough to fight back. His father would keep drinking. His mother would keep quiet.
And Severus?
He'd keep surviving.
But not just surviving.
Natalia had shown him another way.
Extraordinary.
He let the word roll over his tongue like a secret spell as he reached his street. His boots crunched over broken glass just as the sound of shouting floated down the row of houses. The familiar sharp bark of his father's voice, followed by his mother's brittle reply.
He paused in front of the house, staring at the door. The paint was peeling around the knob, and the wood beneath was scarred, gouged like it had been clawed at.
He snorted under his breath and muttered, "Giraffe having an identity crisis. If only people were as easy to figure out."
He stood there another few seconds, head tilted slightly, that eerie stillness about him that made the neighbors avoid his gaze when he passed. Then he slipped inside without a sound.
The sitting room was exactly as he'd left it. His father's boots tracked mud across the carpet. His mother's teacup sat on the little table, untouched.
They didn't even look at him.
They never did.
Fine by him.
He made for the stairs, slow and silent, but paused when a muffled thud and his mother's quiet gasp floated up behind him. His hand tightened on the banister. He stared at the cracked plaster wall for a moment, something dark and sharp curling in his chest.
Then he turned and climbed the rest of the way, two at a time, shutting his bedroom door behind him with a soft click.
In the quiet, he exhaled.
His satchel thumped onto his narrow bed, and he sank down beside it, pulling his notes free. The pages were full already—runes sketched in careful ink, translations scrawled in the margins, little arrows connecting spells and theories across disciplines. Natalia's notes were neater, more structured. But his were better. More creative.
And she'd know it, too.
She'd grin that crooked grin at him tomorrow, jab him in the ribs, and say, "You're welcome, little brother. Admit it—you'd still be sitting here brooding if it weren't for me."
And he'd roll his eyes and say, "You don't get to call me little brother when we're the same age."
And she'd laugh and say, "Sure I do. You act like the younger one."
And he'd scoff. And she'd win.
She always did.
His quill hovered over the parchment as the sound of glass breaking downstairs rattled faintly through the walls. He didn't flinch this time. Instead, he wrote.
"For Lily: learn every spell before they can hurt her with them."
"For Natalia: become more than she even dares to dream."
"For myself: never be afraid again."
He leaned back, tapping the quill against his chin. His dark eyes glittered faintly in the low light as the corners of his mouth curled into something that wasn't quite a smile, wasn't quite a sneer.
One day, they'd all see.
The boys at Hogwarts who would laugh at his patched robes, the girls who would wrinkle their noses when he passed, the professors who would dismiss him as nothing more than a poor boy from Spinner's End.
His father.
His mother.
They'd all see.
And they'd regret underestimating him.
He dipped the quill again and wrote another line in his slanted, precise hand.
"Knowledge is power. Power is protection. Protection is what keeps families safe."
He could still hear Natalia and Lily saying it in unison as he left the attic. Family.
Not by blood.
By choice.
By battle.
Tomorrow, they'd meet in the attic again. The world would keep shifting under their feet. The shadows she dreamed about would keep gathering.
But he'd be ready.
That's what family did.
They got ready. Together.
He let out a soft breath through his nose, sharp and quiet, and muttered to the empty room, his voice full of something dark and hungry:
"Let them come."
Then he leaned forward over his notes, quill flying across the page.
And in the silence of his little room, Severus Snape began his quiet campaign toward greatness.
—
Meanwhile — The Attic, Late Night
The attic smelled of candle wax and dust and paper — a smell Natalia had already come to find… comforting.
She sat cross–legged at the center of the faded Persian rug, quill tapping lightly against her lower lip. Around her, stacks of books formed haphazard walls: Hogwarts, A History, Notable Wizarding Families of Britain, A Beginner's Guide to Wards, Great Magical Conflicts of the 19th Century.
All woefully incomplete. All she had.
And it wasn't enough.
Her notebook lay open in front of her, the top page already crowded with neat, sharp script.
She'd started by listing what she knew.
Facts:
— Magic exists. Wizarding society is insular and resistant to change.
— Wizarding Britain controlled by entrenched families with centuries of influence.
— Muggleborns are tolerated, not accepted. Resentment exists already.
— Mother Magic warned me: "Blood will divide you before it binds you. Beware the ones who call themselves Pure."
— Severus confirms some families (Malfoy, Rosier, Black?) consider Muggleborns "dirty." No open hostility yet.
— No confirmed leader of extremist thought… yet.
— But there will be a leader. There always is.
She paused, running her finger under that last line, then underlined it.
Because history repeated itself. Over and over. She'd seen it before.
Charismatic leaders rose when the soil was fertile: discontent, prejudice, a convenient scapegoat. All that was missing here was the name.
She flipped through her notes, stopping on a section she'd started last week: historical uprisings and magical wars. The Goblin rebellions. Grindelwald's war. Small anti–Muggleborn riots in the early 1800s.
In each, it had started with words. Then masks. Then blood.
Natalia sat back, exhaling through her nose. It'll happen here too. That's the pattern. You can feel it already in the air, can't you? That quiet hum, that wrongness… like before.
And she hated being this blind.
In her old life, she'd had dossiers. Intercepts. Informants. Contacts.
Now?
She had Lily, who was brilliant but still too trusting.
And Severus, who was sharp but scared — and whose information was limited by the narrow world his father allowed him.
She couldn't even blame him for that. He'd brought her everything he could find in his mother's hidden collection, and even he'd admitted it: "They don't exactly write about the ugly parts of wizarding society in textbooks."
She picked up her pen and began a new page:
Phase One: Hogwarts — Intelligence Objectives
Identify:
— Students from major Pureblood families.
— Professors with known loyalties to old bloodlines.
— Any signs of organization among students.
Ingratiate:
— Build a reputation as "clever but harmless."
— Avoid alienating any House outright; find sympathizers.
— Use Lily's charm to deflect suspicion.
— Use Severus' ambition to access Slytherin networks.
Observe:
— Common room conversations.
— Professor biases in grading and discipline.
— Who's comfortable saying "Mudblood" out loud.
Record:
— Every name. Every slight. Every smile that doesn't reach the eyes.
She set her pen down and flexed her cramped fingers.
This was still so… primitive.
But she didn't need perfect information yet. She just needed enough to see the shape of the thing. Enough to map the battlefield before the battle truly began.
And Hogwarts, she was sure, would give her plenty.
She reached for one of Severus' history books — Notable Magical Conflicts and the Figures Behind Them — and let it fall open in her lap. The chapter on Gellert Grindelwald was dog–eared.
"It is said that even in his youth, Grindelwald gathered followers by appealing to their sense of heritage, their belief that wizards were meant to rule over Muggles rather than hide. Many saw him as a visionary. Few realized the blood he would spill until it was too late…"
She shut the book and stared at the flickering candle flame.
Visionary. Monster. Two sides of the same coin.
It was never hard to find someone willing to lead. The question was only how much destruction they'd leave behind.
And this time… she wouldn't let herself be caught flat–footed.
She reached for her notebook and added one last line to the page:
We don't just survive this. We win. On our terms.
She stared at the words until the ink dried, then closed the notebook and tied it shut with a bit of ribbon.
Tomorrow, she'd talk to Severus about weaving himself into Slytherin quietly, without arrogance.
Tomorrow, she'd talk to Lily about listening more and speaking less in class — just for now.
Tomorrow, she'd start the real work.
For now, though, she blew out the candle and let the darkness take the attic again.
In her chest, the same quiet fire she'd carried all her life burned on, steady and bright.
Let them underestimate her. Let them sneer at the little Muggleborn girl with too–bright eyes and ink–stained fingers.
She'd turn their sneers into ashes soon enough.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Click the link below to join the conversation:
https://discord.com/invite/HHHwRsB6wd
Can't wait to see you there!
If you appreciate my work and want to support me, consider buying me a cup of coffee. Your support helps me keep writing and bringing more stories to you. You can do so via PayPal here:
https://www.paypal.me/VikrantUtekar007
Or through my Buy Me a Coffee page:
https://www.buymeacoffee.com/vikired001s
Thank you for your support!