Restricted

Chapter 1. Owls

August 1994

The cool, evening breeze of the late summer night swept across the dimly lit room through the cracked window. Beams of moonlight shimmered across the hardwood floors, blending into the white rug in the centre of the bedroom. In only the first hour of morning of this typical Friday night, the chirping of crickets could be heard along with the intermittent shouts of passersbys of the city street.

What was not typical of this night, however, was the consistent cooing of several owls as they came and went with their deliveries.

The telltale flutter of wings departed only for another to arrive, seemingly delivering a string of endless conversation.

With every arrival, the tapping of their beaks to the window pane of the floor below was met by a quick unfastening of the latch

Soon, the unfamiliarity of the sounds, originally having woken her, became repetitive, leaving Madeline Lilith Snape to drift into another night of peaceful slumber.

~

The following morning, after checking her workstation and finding the liquid in her cauldron simmering a perfect royal blue, Madeline clumsily raced down the stairs. As she entered the sitting room, she promptly straightened, not wishing her father to see her hysterics. 

It was difficult, though. She was excited.

She'd done it!

The Invigoration Draught was one of the most advanced potions that she'd brewed. Having worked on it for the last month and a half, and facing countless trial and error, she'd finally perfected it.

Now, all she needed was her father's stamp of approval.

Madeline's father, Severus Snape, the Potions Master of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, had been acting as her mentor for as long as she could remember.

His teachings correlated greatly with his parenting–whether it be showing her how to gently handle important ingredients, or showing her how to tie her shoes, he was ever the patient type. He spoke to his only daughter with soft instruction, watching quietly as her mind put the pieces together. He granted her the ability to take her time, letting her learn from her mistakes and teaching her the importance of second (and sometimes third, fourth, and fifth) chances.

This Saturday morning, Madeline was finally prepared to present her perfected brew. And he didn't even need to know about the second, third... and maybe even sixth and seventh chances she'd given herself.

If she was honest, she was also interested in the number of owls that had paid their home a visit the night before.

As she entered the kitchen, she saw that her father must have already put the kettle on, hearing the water begin to rustle softly. Waiting for the whistle, Madeline began to gather the tea tray and all its additions. She tossed the appropriate amount of tea leaves into a steep and dipped it into the empty teapot.

During the summers, with her father home on holiday from work, she took it upon herself to prepare their tea service every morning. He never asked and she never complained as it was the least she could do for all that he'd done for her.

When school terms were in session, he travelled constantly back and forth from Scotland to London. From what Madeline had read, while Floo-travel wasn't as jarring as other forms of magical transport, the mere distance to sweep through Hogwarts' Floo to their flat's took nearly thirty minutes each time. But, every day, he would bring new texts for her to read to maintain her schooling.