Chapter 5: 'You're a Witch'

It had been a rainy spring thus far – even for England.  Every day seemed gloomier than the one before; each night darker than the last.  Although the wet weather was fine for flowers it put a damper on outdoor activities.  The Evans sisters, much to their dismay, had not been to the playground in one week.  The longer Petunia and Lily were cooped up, the more disgruntled they became.  

Petunia was currently seated in the parlour, an angry look upon her pinched young face.  Lily was sprawled on the floor, reading a mystery.  She longed to chat, but she knew that Petunia was in no mood.  Her sister’s gaze was fixed on the wall – which, Lily was convinced, would soon have a hole burned into it.  

The silence was overwhelming.  Lily could not take it any more.  She rolled over onto her side and looked up at her sister.  

“I don’t like this book.”

“Shut up.”

Petunia scowled at Lily and turned her attention back to the wall.  Lily shook her head in disgust.  

“Well, I don’t like it!  It’s written for little kids.”

“You are a little kid, Lily.”

“Well, I’m not that little.  Besides, I’m bored of reading.  Let’s do something.”

Lily could tell that Petunia had nearly reached her breaking point.  Her face was flushed and her eyes were narrowed; she looked as though she were willing herself not to throw things at Lily.  Petunia’s words came out slow and controlled.

“And what, Lily Rose Evans, do you suggest we do?  It’s pouring outside!  We’ll be struck by lightening, probably.”

Lily rolled her huge green eyes.  

“We don’t have to go outside … we could make-believe a story.  I’ll even let you be the princess this time.  I’ll play a mean old witch or something.”

Petunia’s cheeks puffed out in indignation.  At that moment, she herself looked very much the role of ‘mean old witch.’  Lily could not help herself – she giggled.  

“Or y-you,“ Lily chortled, “could be the- the witch-“ she gasped back her laughter “-since you look so much like one anyway!”

Petunia’s eyes grew wide and she jumped off the sofa, storming past Lily in a huff.  Lily sobered instantly and she tagged after Petunia.  

“Wait, Tuney!” she cried.  “I didn’t mean to …”        

In the kitchen, Mrs. Evans smiled to herself.  Petunia had her moments – but Lily knew how to encourage them.  She could be pesty.  Mrs. Evans shook her head.  Her two girls could not be more different.

***


Upstairs, Lily had finally given up on Petunia.  Settling into her room she closed her eyes and listened to the rain.  She could hear the chimes as they were nudged, melodiously, by the breeze.  She could hear the wind as it flew through the trees.  Off in the distance, she heard the Snape’s screen door swinging off its hinges.  It was not pleasant weather for most, but Lily loved the rain.  She longed to be outside, barefoot and soaking wet – but she was not brave enough to sneak past her mother.  It was too risky.  

Lily’s eyes wandered over to a vase of roses on her bedside table.  Plucking one, she twirled it slowly between her fingers.  Oh, how bored she was!  She longed for something to happen; anything, anything at all.  As she idly sat, waiting, Lily’s flower did a most peculiar thing.  One by one, each petal individually folded open, then closed up, then opened again ... and again … and again.   Lily stared wondrously at the flower.  She picked up other flowers and twirled them, too, with the same magical response.  Lily could not wait to tell Petunia.  But then, Petunia would likely accuse her of being a freak, or some such.  

Lily set the flower down sadly.  If only Petunia had a better sense of humor!  She wasn’t bad, really.  She was just so … ordinary.  Lily sighed.  Petunia was as unlike Lily as a sister could be.  Even though it was only two years that separated the girls, Petunia had always seemed to think it was a lifetime.  

Lily turned to the window, where little ribbons of raindrops slid down the glass.  The afternoon shower would soon erupt into a storm, Lily felt certain.  The darkling sky showed no sign of lightening anytime soon.  Speaking of storms … Lily pressed her ear to the window.  She had heard someone screaming, hadn’t she?  Tentatively, she unlocked the window and leaned into the rain.  

Yes, she was certain now.  The storm had come early inside the neighbors’ house.  Lily felt sad as she absently listened to the man shouting at his hysterical wife.  He was hitting her, Lily knew; he was, perhaps, beating her.  Lily’s young heart filled with sorrow.  She felt tears roll down her face - or was it only the rain?  

Confused and scared as to how she should react, Lily slumped against the window frame.  Petunia was right.  What right did Lily have thinking she was anything more than a helpless little kid?  Lily sniffed.  Closing the window, she shook her dark red hair.  Heavy water droplets fell from it, creating a small puddle on the floor.  Lily groaned.  She did not want to clean that.  

Lily blinked.  

The floor was dry!  Lily gazed down in disbelief.  She reached down and felt the area that had been wet: it was dry as a bone.  Lily felt her hair.  It, too, was dry.  Smiling, Lily spun round in a small circle.

“I may be a little kid,” Lily thought, “but I do have some kind of power in me.”

Just how were these things happening?  Lily wondered.  She would soon find out.


****       

Severus closed his eyes as tightly as possible.  This only enhanced the image of his mother’s bruised face.  He had his hands clamped over his ears, but even that did not silence the sound of his parent’s fight.

It had been over something stupid, as usual.  Eileen had forgotten to close the bedroom window, and incoming rain had interrupted Tobias’ nap.  The fight sounded much worse than it really was.  Eileen was screaming hysterically because Tobias, in his haste to find his wife, had sent Severus tumbling down the stairs.  Severus, thanks to his natural magic, had been uninjured.  Eileen, however, was outraged.  She could not believe her husband would stoop to such a level, throwing a child down the stairs.  She had not ceased screaming since, not even when Tobias slapped her violently across the face.  

The episode on the stairs was an accident.  Even Snape, bitter though he was against Tobias, could see that.  His father, for once, had not purposefully caused harm.  Eileen did not realize this, however.  By now, it hardly mattered. Once his parents began to struggle, the initial cause of the fight was forgotten.

Severus gave up trying to block the commotion from his ears.  Instead, he tried to block it from his mind.  He focused on the sound of the rain as it poured down the roof.  He listened intently to the voices of the Earth … the sweep of the wind, the groan of the trees, the rustling of long grass.  The back door was opening and closing aimlessly in the breeze.  He heard a squeaking sound from next-door.  Someone was opening a window there, too.  Great.  He guessed that the Evans could hear his parents’ fight loud and clear, now.  

Severus leaned out of the window.  Sticking out his tongue to catch the rain, he shivered at its chilly sensation.  The sky seemed to be falling; the dark clouds were so low to the ground.  Severus wanted to be inside the storm, when it came; right there in the midst of all the chaos.  Why couldn’t he, he reasoned?  His parents would be fighting for a while, and by the time they were finished they would be too exhausted to think of him.  Tentatively, Severus stuck one, then both legs, out of his window.  He had seen Lily Evans “float” to the ground before – why couldn’t he do the same?  They were both magical, after all.  

A sudden rush of anxiety came over Severus: What if he was not as magically gifted as Lily?  His heart skipped a beat.  It was possible that Lily would be better at magic than he was.  Then, he feared, she would not want to be his friend.  He would have absolutely nothing to offer her.  

His insecurities vanished quickly.  The rain-slicked sill had caused him to slide off and hurtle towards the ground.  No, not hurtle … Float.  He was falling in slow-motion.  Weightless, Severus floated to the ground.

He landed in a mud puddle.  

*****  


The storm arrived at four-o-clock that afternoon.  It was a raging, towering storm, with a temper unlike most spring storms in England.  The sky seemed to split open as lightning splintered through.  The thunder was deafening.  Every sensible creature had hidden itself in a nook or hollow somewhere, sheltered safely from the sky’s wrath.  Every creature, that is, except for Severus.  He had taken a walk to the playground down the lane, despite his mum’s previous warnings about lightning and open-ground.

He took a swing and flipped the seat over, then sat himself down and began to swing softly.  Soon, the grating sound of the swing was drowned out by the increasingly bad weather.  As the storm grew, Severus stopped pushing himself and let the wind bear his swing upward.

The stronger the storm brewed, the higher Sev’s swing went.  It was a wild and messy storm.  Severus felt leaves, grass, rain, and flower petals land on his face and clothes.  Severus had never experienced such complete abandon of his senses.  He closed his eyes to the rain and let the wind carry him.  

He hoped that the storm inside the Snape house was not so fervent and dangerous as this one.      

****


The next afternoon was bright and sunny.  It was as if the storm had turned itself inside out, spewing flecks of golden sun all round.  Severus woke up early and threw on the first clothes he could find: on old smock (a hand-me-down from his wizarding family), too-short trousers, and a huge black coat that used to belong to Eileen.  He liked to wear it because he could easily imagine it was a cloak.  He could traipse about his backyard imagining he was at Hogwarts.  He didn’t bother with shoes; Severus liked the feel of earth beneath his feet.  

The day had begun like any other, with no grand expectations.  Eileen and Tobais were not speaking to one another.  Breakfast was cold milk-toast and mint tea.  Severus hurried through the meager meal and then bounded outside, half-filled teacup still in hand.  He was just about to nestle against a tree and read when he heard the sound of girlish laughter.  

The laughter was coming from the playground.  Tea and book were forgotten as Severus (bat-like in his oversized coat) ran through his yard and to the playground.  His heart leapt as he saw the familiar red glint of Lily’s hair through the trees.  Creeping silently along, he hid himself behind some overgrown shrubbery.  He settled back on his heels to watch the girls (for, of course, Petunia was there also).  

Severus could feel his eyes well with hunger … hunger for the sweet side of life, for the innocence his childhood had lacked.  It was a sad, hopeless kind of hunger – yet greedy, too, because Severus was starving.  He was starving for a source of happiness, something – someone – he could tuck away inside his heart, to retrieve whenever he was sad.  And he was always sad.  Severus was starving for the purity of youth, for an honest and loving friend.  Severus needed to be a child.  He had never learned how to be a child (oh, yes, children must learn such things).  

Here, before him, before those hungry eyes, was a child of such delight, such tender beauty … how could Severus help but love Lily?

Severus watched intently as Lily brought her swing higher and higher into the air, until at last she surpassed her sister.  She loosened her grip on the chains.  Petunia gasped.

“Lily, don’t!”

But Lily had already let go of the chains.  She flew off of the swings, graceful and light as a sparrow.  Severus held his breath.  He had seen her do this before, but never so beautifully as just now.  Lily soared higher and higher, and finally landed softly on the grass.    

Petunia slammed her heels into the ground, stopping her swing the usual way, and marched over to Lily.

“Mummy said you couldn’t do that, Lily.  You are not allowed!”

“But nothing bad happened,” Lily giggled.  A thought seemed to occur to her.

Lily walked to the bush where Severus hid.  Severus held his breath as Lily reached out and plucked a flower from the branches.  Severus breathed out in relief.  She had not seen him.  

“Tuney, look at what I can do …”

Lily cupped the flower in her hand.  Petunia came closer, apparently too curious to disapprove.  As the girls stood in silence, the flower opened and closed, opened and closed … Lily looked pleased.  

“Stop that, now!”  Petunia cried, a frantic tone to her voice.

“It didn’t hurt you,” Lily said.  She tossed the flower behind the bush, where Severus caught it and stuck it inside his pocket.  

“It isn’t normal,” Petunia was saying.  She paused, longingly.  “How do you do it, Lily?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Severus could not contain himself any longer.  He had leaped out from behind the bushes, coat flapping madly.  With a little scream, Petunia ran back to the swings.  Lily looked surprised, but she stayed in her place.  She blinked.

“Isn’t what obvious?” she asked.  

Nervous and eager, Severus lowered his voice so that Petunia would not hear.  The thrill of being so close to Lily had overridden his sensibility.  He felt dazed in the scent of her.  He glanced behind him.

“I know what you are.”

“What?”

“You’re … you’re a witch.”

Severus watched helplessly as Lily’s eyes grew wide with indignation.  

“That’s an awful thing to say!”  she blurted, and turned towards her sister; her pretty, freckled nose in the air.

Severus felt desperate.  

“No, no!” he cried, his pale face unusually flushed.  He ran to the girls, a ridiculous site in his bat-like coat.  A fleeting thought told him to remove the coat, but he could not bear to let Lily see the smock beneath it.  He neared the swings.

Petunia and Lily stood together, holding onto the swing poles.  Severus shook his head.  

“You are, really … you are a witch.  I’ve been watching you for a while now.  But it’s okay!  My mum is a witch, too, and I’m a wizard!”

Petunia’s icy laugh did not surprise Severus, though Lily gave a little start.  

“A wizard!” Petunia screeched, boldly letting go of the pole.  

“I know you – you’re the Snape boy from next-door.  A bunch of nutters, that’s what your family is.  WHY have you been spying on us?”

Severus felt uncomfortably warm.  

“Haven’t spied … not on you, anyway,” he said to Petunia.  “Why would I want to watch a muggle?”

A small huff escaped Petunia’s lips, and at the sound of the strange word, Lily sniggered.  

“Come, Lily.  We’re going home!”  Petunia turned on her heel, and she set off towards the Evans home angrily.  

Lily threw a disapproving look at Severus and followed her sister, a haughty spring in her step.       

Severus did not move for several long moments.  How could this have gone so horribly wrong?  Everything he had feared had happened.  Fingering Lily’s fallen flower, so ineloquently shoved in his pocket, Severus turned to go home.  

The day held no more brightness for him.  His world had, once again, been plunged into a sea of disappointment.  

**********************