Harrison Snape and the Magical Childhood:Part 1 of 8 in the Cursed Chronicles
Visions of the Future
I stared down at the invitation in my hand with no small amount of trepidation; the words burning into my mind as the frilly pink floral pattern stood out gazing at me in a way which carried not even the subtlest amount of mockery. Petunia was getting married to a man I had never met... not that I had ever expected him to meet with me or see my sister ever again after the night when I had stopped coming home to #2 Privet Drive. Sev had missed me during the summertime but not them, not the Evanses, no I knew for a fact that my father, William had even taken to saying that Petunia was an only child and had disregarded me entirely. I was a well-kept, and well-hidden family secret that no one wanted to own in the normal human world. I was the black sheep and the disgrace of the proper English home my father kept. I had even been left out of my know when my mother had her third and final child, one that my father prized above all else and a sibling I had never met.
The boy, a handsome replica of a man who my father had named William the II was now I assumed was now about school aged give or take a year or two. myself being 20 and him being born when I was nine years old, that would put him around eleven or so if my memory serves. I had not seen him in at least half a decade as he had not come to my wedding being deemed at the age of 9 or seven to be too young to young to appreciate the gravity of a wedding. I had kissed my little brother and then I had gone to my wedding, never to see him again. Although for me to say that I had never met William was a half-truth, a more accurate statement would be that I had not seen the boy since I was living full time with my parents. Before my father had realized that magic was not a condition or fixation that could be stamped out.
He had been about 4 or 5 then, and it had been at least half a decade since I had seen the boy if not a little bit longer. Oh how I had hated him, not because he had done anything in particular to me other than being born. It was just that well he was born and he was normal and her family loved him, Petunia being the oldest had loved my strong handsome normal little brother and his father had never been prouder. He had loved us -Petunia in particular was a daddy's girl- and looked the most like her mother but a boy was a dream of his. A little miniature of himself to mold in his sublime masculine image, carry the Evans name with pride and protect his two silly sisters and damsel-in-distress mother.
I had loved him when he was little, that was until I found out what being the unwanted witch in a family of three children would mean for someone such as myself. You see, my father had not anticipated a third child in his family -as can be seen by the lateness in life of when he had him- with two sister both a decade or more older than him. And eventually as Petunia had hit 15 she had no longer wanted to share her room with her freaky thirteen year old sister. I had been made to give up my room and move in with her because well they needed a room for the unexpected blessing and while I had not minded all that much she certainly had. Petunia had thrown a fit at me and whined to my father that my 'weirdness' was going to get all over her. It was as if my witchdom was some sort of odd incurable infectious disease rather than something to be proud of.
Of course, any rational parent would have realized that talent was not contagious and told Petunia to grow up but my father, the financier, the stiff prim and proper gentleman who was the Lord of his home was not one to ever use rationale. Not only that but dad hated when his favorite daughter was in distress and had blamed me as if I had done something wrong just by being alive and forced -mind you-forced to share the same room with her, because he had decided to have a baby he didn't have room for. But telling him that would have been pointless and when I tried to protest he had grabbed me by the shoulders and told me that I was not supposed to talk back to him before moving me and my things to the cobbaert under the stairs with all my Hogwarts things till the coming term in which I would return to my normal life. That had been the moment I realized that my father hated me, he was disgusted by me; what I had thought he considered my blessing was his own private shame and I had fractured his cookie-cutter life.
He would never admit it of course, for William Cale Evans, banker in the UK, former captain in her majesty's army he had always been a hero to the world. To him, To my dear old Da, appearances were everything which was why he had intended to walk me down the isle a couple years ago. He did not want the world to know that he had otherwise neglected and tormented me as a child. Sent me away to the wizarding world to be raised by other people not out of disgust, but because he loved me, wanted to have the best for his special little girl but I am no fool. I publicly humiliated the man by having my current father walk me down the aisle to the arms of the man my father had told her was absolutely the wrong one for me. Severus was everything my father did not like, he was reserved, odd, overly-formal (something my dad called 'the proxy-royals'; the kind of person that put on heirs and acting above themselves, not that my husband was like that in my eyes.
For my father however, he was the epitome of stuck-up antisocial and taciturn and it drove him mad although it amused me to no end. My mum, she was not fond of Sev but she did not mind the fact that he had nothing to say. She was never one to like idle chitchat either oh sure she would exchange pleasantries. She would ask how one was doing, offer them a biscuit and then talk about the weather. But no more talk then was necessary, come to think of it I married my mother, as she may not like my husband but she was cool, polite and managed some level of civility; albeit a little bit meanly now and again. Come to think of it, it was almost exactly like my husband, which did not really surprise me if I thought of it at any length because although I hate to admit it but I am more like him than her so it only seemed natural that my mate would be like my mother.
I had his hair, his fighting spirit and I will say just a hint of his nasty ginger temper. My father was not a learned man and I believe that was his main issue, he was a thick cockney ballroom brawler worst of all he was a wizard. He was -in my father's mind- the primary reason for the collapse of his nuclear family him and his magic. Nevermind that witches could be born of muggle families and he himself was a squib, he was so ashamed about his own inability to master the magical arts that he had chosen to live in exile in the muggle world with a stenographer and 2.5 kids in a muggle suburb but that was certainly not my fault; he may be unable to do magic but that did not change the fact that his parents might've been and it was a well-known fact- known by anyone with half a brain the size of an average human being- that magic was genetic sometimes recessive and I could have very well gotten it from them.
No use pointing this out to him though, he would hear nothing of it. In fact, the one time I had mentioned that as a doctor the basics of wizarding genetics versus regular human biology he had cast me from the house and said that he never wanted to see me again. It had been a very painful time for me, one that had lead to a short period of depressed drunkenness at the Leaky Cauldron and some few nights weeping in the arms of my love and my guardians. I had of course, always desired my father's love but I was just not a normal enough woman, and Sev thank Merlin had loved every single imperfection that my own father saw as my curse. But though the pain had eased in my heart and I had a loving new family with everything I ever wanted I have never forgotten the banishment from my father's house.
Never forgotten the words my family had used,the three people who were supposed to freak, monster, disgrace, ashamed of me, ashamed of everything I am. How I should be ashamed of myself and hide it, not let the world know what I was; squash it out of me. Make myself ordinary, make myself ordinary, not breed with more people like that so that he would not have a grandchild who was some sort of magical freak like his sainted mother who had always been too busy to give him the time of day. I had to swallow the biting comeback that he was just like her whoever grandma Evans was -she had died before I was born- was nothing less than the magical doppelganger of my father. He was cold, aloof, a work-obsessed fanatic who made money and played favorites with his children. The last part was not the same, as my father was an only child but all the rest was the same way.
He had never been cold to me to that point if not loving he had escalated to the point of abuse yet; but still his rejection had hurt me. It had hurt so badly, I had never believed I would see him again; bloody hell they had not even bothered to find out if I was alive and there was no secret of the attack even in the muggle world. So the question arose why the bloody hell Petunia would invite me to the wedding, probably to rub it in my face, after all it was nothing my sister liked better than a good show off. She loved to be the center of attention, loved to be admired and had good reason for she did work very hard. She had always loved the spotlight, always loved to show me how much better than me she was.
She was prettier than me by English standards, a real English rose, although my mother's inherent blush which she had gotten made her more of a dusty rose but a rose nonetheless. Petunia was blonde, blue-eyed and skinny as a beanpole with a permanent blush, dad had always claimed that she was the pretty one of the two of us, the smarter one of us. If that was not bad enough my wedding had made him mad, because well to be honest I had not wanted that prejudice man walking me down the isle to a wizard if only to make jibes in my ear all the way down to him.
Not that his little snide comments would have made me second guess myself, Severus was the best thing that had ever happened to me, corny though that may sound. But now it was Petunia's turn, and I had an inkling of just the sort of man that she had found. It made me laugh privately to myself now that I thought about it I could just picture the kind of stuffy, boring, militant, no-nonsense, and perfectly ordinary man she had saddled herself with. His name was even boring and official-like, Vernon. Ha! I had a picture of him in my head already, hair perfectly coiffed and straight, he always wore earth tones, blues, blacks, greys or browns. Would not be dead without a briefcase and only drank the finest liquors and his home was his pride.
I imagined the sort of man Sev had onced called a 'suit' who would not be caught dead in blues or greens or god forbid red. No outlandish colors, house proud home and garden sort of fellow. I looked at my castle and had to grin knowing how foolish I must look to the rest of the world who could not hear this long drawn out conversation I was having with myself. It was just that I pictured my sister making me the auntie of a cow if she saw the castle I would be raising my children in. Because true while my home may not win any best-lawn competitions it was not even a mansion but a castle, something my muggle sister could not afford and whoever this man was, if you will forgive me a moment's arrogance I must admit that I do not think this man whomever he may be will ever hold a candle to my Severus however normal and stepford he might be.
I had the image of a man who she was going to marry as being the kind I had (at one time or another) wished I had married; a man who no doubt her father was all pally with. Someone who he would have been considered a proper English gent, one who could burp, belch and swallow whiskey with the best of them; one who would not think of putting on airs around him. The sort of man that he himself had been, one who preferred brutish boys and simple girls and thank god I had not married such a man. Thank God I no longer had to be held to his ridiculous standards of normalcy and with that thought. I felt a measure of peace at the realization that I had no need of that man's approval anymore or needed to care really what he thought of me because I had my father's approval and a brother and a husband and a mom who adored me.
I stood looking down at the tacky,floral invitation and smiled. So, that was her game huh, she wanted a chance to see me and have a good laugh did she? Well she would not get it. I would come to her wedding with my husband, my brother, my parents and my children and she would not have a chance to laugh at me anymore, because I was no longer her sister. I looked at my husband who was sitting on the sofa, little Harry still sleeping at his feet Severus watching my face, worried obviously that the past would come back and strike me in the head; that I would faint or weep at the knowledge. But I merely smiled and sat down next to him as a plan formulated in my mind as I put the invite down and smiled.
"We're not going." Severus told me, "She is not about to humiliate you like that."
"Yes we are," I told him, "we are the ones who was going to humiliate them."
My husband gave me a mischievous grin, gentleman though he may be he was also a Slytherin through and through and he did enjoy a bit of vengeance now and then especially when it was against my sister who he had never been fond of and had come to if not hate than strongly dislike in later years. Truth was, he hated my parents, hardly tolerated my sister and although he had never spent any appreciable amount of time with Little William disliked him on principle because he was going to grow up to be just like them. I had used to become angry with him over his dislike of muggles, then I thought of the types of muggles he had been forced to deal with and decided to cut him some slack. If I had known nothing but an abusive parent and rude neighbors I would have felt the same way. But the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to rub it in their faces -petty I know- but they deserved it after the way that had treated me because of my wizardry.
"How are we going to do that?" he asked me in a soft voice, one that showed he was fully on-board with whatever I had planned.
"We show up at the wedding dressed to the nines, and show off a little lets see what kind of man Petunia is with." I said, "Because I know my husband is better."
Severus cupped his chin in thought for a moment, "I'll do you one better," he said, a scheming look in his eyes.
"Oh?" I asked wondering what he had in mind.
"What if we showed up and did a memory charm on them made them think the wedding was a disaster." he seemed to actually smile at the thought.
I laughed and smacked his arm gently, "Oh you!"I chuckled, "I'd like that but we can't."even I could not bring myself to crash my sister's wedding -even if she wasn't technically my sister anymore- I still loved her on some level.
"Always so forgiving my flower..." he seemed to smile.
I reached down and picked up my baby boy, just a year old and already so big. I thought about what kind of man he would be and the image was a striking one, handsome and powerful with tall stature my boy would be as brave as his mother was, as soft spoken as his father and as smart as him too. I imagined my boy; with his emerald eyes and dark hair. I imagined my children going to school with one another falling in love with sweethearts basically relive my life. Just then I felt my head jerk back, and a blinding flash of white light as I saw something. I saw something wonderful a vision of my home, my family was there. I was in the maternity ward at St. Mungo's, Severus was holding a two year old Harrison in his arms and the calendar on the wall read April 12th, 1982. I was laying in the bed and both my arms were full...both my arms with two little babies.
Both of them were male, I heard Sev calling to me trying to reach me but it was impossible I could not make my throat work. I knew dumbly what I was seeing the Pregometer had been mistaken I was seeing my twins. But then they were both boys; so where was my daughter. It was just then the vision changed; a nurse -unnamed- brought in a third child with my hair and Severus's eyes. I watched as Severus kissed her, kissed the boys and then me. I smiled the warm atmosphere of this room was something I never wanted to leave. But then I heard something, a horrible cold voice like the hissing of a vicious snake. It was the voice I had heard three nights ago back in my little flat, there could be no mistaking it.
"I will have my revenge..." and then I felt it, this horrible searing pain in my chest.
Those five words sent the beautiful vision spiraling into blackness as I watched my children all being killed by the Dark Lord and all I could do was watch in horror and scream as I fell to my knees and clutched my burning chest. Severus was holding me close, tightly in his arms and rocked me as the vision ended and I laid there helpless in her arms. The pain in my chest was so bad that I tore my robe open, pulled off my pajama top and heard Severus gasp as he ran trembling fingers over an angry lightning-shaped scar over my heart. It was angry. and a nasty shade of crimson and it hurt so bad.
"Triplets," I wheezed out.
"What?" he stammered out.
"I'm having triplets, two boys and a girl." I told him.
"Are you sure, where did you get that scar?"
"I'm sure...God Severus the visions, so bloody vivid..."
I told him everything and my husband stood up, "we need to see your father..." he said.
"NO!" I said, vehemently, then more calmly, "No, we have a wedding to make."