Severus Snape couldn't get over his shock when he heard his name being spoken by that muggle. Severus? Are you Severus Snape? Laurel knows about his childhood, she knows about his family, thanks to the stories of the old Tobias Snape. A Muggle caugh...
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Cold seeped in through the door and windows of the last house on Spinner's End. The overcast sky merged with the blackened snow caused by the perpetual cloud of smoke that came from the factory chimney and the constant coming and going of its humble inhabitants. That Boxing Day morning, Severus found his mother sleeping with her head resting on the rickety kitchen table, next to her an empty bottle of sherry and the plates still containing he remains of the Christmas dinner that she had taken pains to prepare with the few ingredients she could afford. The plate served at the head of the table was untouched and cold. Despite the ramshackle tinsel tree that had been donated years ago by the town parish and the paper garlands little Severus had spent making the day before, the house looked dingy and unkempt; just as unkempt was the appearance of the child who at that moment sat in front of the window and amused himself by drawing figures with the mist of his breath against the dirty pane.
"Mummy, Dad's coming!" - He yelled when he saw the tall, stocky figure of his father staggering down the narrow street.
Eileen sat up slowly and looked scornfully at the mess on the table and the pots and pans waiting in the tiny kitchen sink. She averted her eyes from Severus who had risen to his feet and ran to the door, opening it and letting in a chilly wind that carried with it the acrid smell of coal smoke.
"Close the door."
"But Dad's about to come."
"I'm telling you to close the damn door!" - Eileen's voice cut off and she ended up letting out a sob. - "Close it, Severus. Please."
Severus gulped in fear. His mother had never yelled at him like that. He looked once more at his father who had leaned against one of the streetlights and was vomiting in the middle of the street. The little boy felt the urge to go to his father's aid, but even before he could open the door far enough to get out, a sudden force made the door slam shut, almost knocking it off its hinges. Severus turned his gaze to his mother who had stood up and was pointing with what looked to him like a thin twig.
"Your father already knows. Now it is time that you also learn why you are so different from the other children."
Eileen walked over to her son and knelt beside him putting her eyes on the same level as the six-year-old's. She took his face with her hands and breathed hard trying not to break her voice, trying to hide her anger and anxiety. Growing up, Eileen never imagined that one day she would feel so much regret having to explain to her son the reason for his powers and his magic. Hailing from an ancient pureblood family, the magical ability that her son Severus had shown to possess from such a young age was something to be extremely proud of. She bit her lip at the thought of her own father, Vespertilius Prince, who had died cursing the name of his youngest daughter on his deathbed upon learning that she had run off with a despicable Muggle, the son of the owner of a miserable pub near his land. Surely, if her father were still alive, he would appreciate and encourage the abilities and skills of his only grandson, even if he were a half-blood.
