The boy walking out of Spinner's End wore a peculiar expression, heavy with solemnity. His broken left arm made his gait entirely uncoordinated, even looking somewhat comical. A few rays of sunlight finally punched through the dark clouds, landing in a puddle before the boy. Reflected in the light, his face grew darker and darker.
An ill-fitting tunic covered ill-fitting undergarments, and an oversized, ragged women's coat entirely unsuited for his age added an even greater sense of absurdity. A thin, frail frame, an exceptionally pale face, and greasy, filthy hair.
Looking into the distance, two little girls were playing on the swings in the park. The boy's gaze locked onto them; he stood in place watching for a long time, yet did not step forward.
He reached up to brush aside a lock of hair, and the pungent smell of alcohol made him furrow his brow tightly. A sticky sensation persisted as his fingers rubbed together. The gentle, soft call of a girl drifted over from afar, and the boy instinctively wanted to chase the source of the sound.
"Severus."
The girl's call made him forget almost all his pain. His brow smoothed out, and the corners of his mouth, previously set in a hard line, finally turned up naturally. Speaking almost to himself, the boy's voice was gentler than ever before,
"Lily."
Torrents of rain poured down, dark clouds crowding out the meager sunlight as the sky grew dim. Rainwater dripped down his hair onto his shoulders, and the boy's coat was already mostly soaked through, but he stood silently at the mouth of the alley as if he felt nothing at all.
His whole body began to tremble again, his body temperature gradually rising. Staring at the low, dilapidated houses on the street corner, his eyes revealed exhaustion and numbness. He was not yet ready to go home.
The sound of raindrops quieted, muffled as though blocked by something. A flash of white, utterly out of place in the dark, rainy night, came into view, and silver eyes gazed at him calmly and indifferently.
The boy snapped out of his daze, only to realize that a black umbrella was now hovering overhead, sheltering him.
The atmosphere lapsed into an awkward silence. The boy wanted to leave, but he had nowhere else to go besides that house. Yet rather than going home, staying here seemed far more acceptable.
"Aren't you leaving?"
After a long while, the boy finally spoke to the girl beside him. Calculating the time, it was nearly seven o'clock. Soon, Sara would be heading home, and so would his drunken father. To avoid being beaten senseless by his father yet again, the boy usually waited until his father had fallen asleep before going home.
"Why do you say that?"
The girl showed no intention of leaving either; she remained standing right at the boy's side, her gaze fixed on the turn in the street corner.
The boy frowned deeply, as if pondering whether the girl genuinely understood nothing or was merely pretending. Just as he was about to speak again, the faint chime of a bell drifted to his ears. It was the town clock chiming the hour; the rain made the sound feel distant and unreal.
"It's time."
The girl's figure stepped out into the rain, her striking white hair miraculously untouched by even a single drop of the heavy downpour.
"I accept your kindness. Merlin bless every kind soul."
The girl turned back and smiled at the boy, a folded slip of paper pinched between her fingertips. That smile blossomed in the darkness, as though her entire person were glowing, her gaze fixed upward with a look of holiness and devotion.
"I really must go."
With a flick of her finger, a warm glow enveloped the boy. His rain-drenched coat instantly became dry and warm, and the boy's drooping arm felt a surge of relief.
Watching the girl vanish into the rainy night, the boy turned his head sluggishly. The umbrella, still hovering on its own, remained standing by his side.
"She's a witch too..."
Suddenly, the boy bolted toward the direction where she had vanished. That path led straight to the small river where Sara often went to throw her fits. If the two of them crossed paths, perhaps the girl would never be able to leave.
He ran slower and slower, gradually slowing to a fast walk, before finally coming to a halt.
There really seemed to be no need for him to do this.
Sara was a complete madman—anyone who had lived in Spinner's End for long knew that. Pitiful, yes, but impossible to feel any sympathy for. She would break into other people's homes to steal things, claiming she was looking for her child.Everyone knew that her child had died at the age of six, and rumor had it that she was even responsible for the death herself. Who her husband was, the boy did not know; people never seemed to have settled on a precise name. Ever since then, she had grown neurotic, wandering around her home every day and mistaking every girl she saw for her own child.
Fearing that their own children might be harmed by her, the other residents had called the police once, but less than a month after Sara was taken away, she would always return to this place. Like an unlaid ghost, no matter what method others used to take her away, she would always drag her battered body back here.
Once, the boy had thought Sara was a witch, which was why she could cast inexplicable spells, and it wouldn't be strange if she could return once more. Sara had never done anything excessive, but her madness, which set her apart from everyone else, was her crime.
The boy lived right next door to Sara. Because of his age, his impression of Sara only began after she had lost her mind.
He was never mistaken for her child, something he was somewhat grateful for, and Sara had never had much interaction with him either.
Sometimes he would see her lying in the corner of some secluded path; sometimes he would see her staring blankly by the river; sometimes she would suddenly shove a moldy piece of bread into his hands; and sometimes, he would see her gazing with a crazed look at the girls in the neighborhood...
He had assumed Sara would just go on living in madness like this, and had even imagined whether, if Sara really did something to the neighborhood girls one day, she might be taken away and never return. Yet he would also worry that if one day she wandered over to the neighboring street and met Lily, she might hurt her. But his worries never materialized.
Sara only ever stayed in Spinner's End, seemingly never leaving.
Sara had changed. She suddenly became completely normal—normal to a terrifying degree. This was his first thought when he was suddenly dragged into the room by Sara. But the moment he saw the unfamiliar girl standing behind Sara, a genuine panic began to rise deep within him.
The girl was clean and pretty, with clear, limpid eyes. She did not belong here; perhaps she did not even belong in the mortal world. This was the boy's initial impression of her, but he quickly realized the gravity of the situation. If she did not belong here, then where on earth had Sara brought her back from?Only yesterday Sara was wandering the streets like a madwoman. Suddenly the messy room had been cleaned up, and she even had a bed of her own.
Perhaps I shouldn't meddle; the girl looked completely fine, even a hundred times healthier than he was.
I should go back; they are fighting again. If my leg gets hurt again, maybe this time it will be many days before I can see Lily again.
What if she went home with Sara of her own free will... What if she didn't—what would happen to her? Should I tell someone? When the time comes, would it be the girl who disappears, or Sara?
Never mind, I can barely look after myself as it is.
Yet I still went and did it; a slip of paper was the most help I could offer.
There's nothing to lose by going to take a look anyway; I have to wait for Tobias to come back from the pub regardless.
As his thoughts returned to the present, he realized he was already standing by the small river. There was no one around, and the chill carried by the river water made him shiver involuntarily.
"Maybe I'm overthinking it."
Just as he was about to leave, the bottom of the riverbed churned, and the faint, bubbling sound caught the boy's attention. Because of the heavy rain, the fierce wind stirred the dead surface of the river. Something that should have sunk to the bottom was churned up by the current. When the boy narrowed his eyes to take a closer look, his blood ran cold, and a biting chill spread from the top of his head.
Sara's face broke the surface of the water, swaying gently back and forth with the current, a strange smile lingering on her face like an infant sleeping in a cradle. Then her whole body slowly emerged.
Severus Snape knew that he would never see Sara again.
Sara had become a corpse.
As for the mysterious girl whose name he didn't even know, he guessed that perhaps she had managed to escape and returned to her real home, or perhaps she had killed Sara and then left.
Either way, she had escaped this place. If only I could do the same.
She was a witch too, and looked to be around my age; perhaps I would see her at that magic school.
Perhaps.