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Minerva and Mrs.
Prince settled back onto the worn sofa, resuming their earlier conversation at an unhurried pace.
This time, the guarded look in Prince’s eyes had shifted into clear confusion.
She studied Minerva’s upright, dignified posture, then asked seriously:
“May I ask what kind of suggestion Damien made for my son?”
Minerva lifted her chin slightly and met Mrs.
Prince’s gaze.
“It is like this.
Every year, Hogwarts teachers provide guidance for young witches and wizards from Muggle families.
I was originally planning to go straight to the Muggle family I’m visiting today.
But Damien made a suggestion.
He said that Mr.
Snape and Miss Evans are close, and that Severus could help supplement today’s introduction to magic for the Evans family.
That is why I have taken the liberty of disturbing you.”
At that, Mrs.
Prince’s brows knit together.
She turned to Severus, her voice going cold.
“So, you have been keeping close company with a Muggle girl?”
Yet contrary to her expectations, the son who had always spoken ill of Muggles lifted his head and answered without hesitation, his tone earnest.
“Yes, Mother.”
Her frown deepened.
Ignoring Minerva’s presence entirely, she snapped.
“You should know that you are a noble wizard, not some lowly Muggle.
How can you be with her?”
Minerva’s expression tightened, but before she could interject, Severus spoke, carefully weighing each word.
“Mother, whether someone is good or bad does not depend on whether she is a Muggle or a witch.
A good person will not become bad because of their origin, and a bad person will not become good because of their origin.”
He paused, as if something had surfaced in his memory.
When he spoke again, he articulated each word with deliberate clarity:
“There are the noblest of Muggles in this world, and there are the most despicable of wizards—and vice versa.
If I cover my eyes with prejudice, I will never see the true world.”
Mrs.
Prince was taken aback.
Her son’s pale face was flushed faintly red from the force of his words, his dark eyes bright with conviction and life.
Under that unwavering gaze, it was as though she were seeing him for the first time.
Only then did she notice: he had grown taller; his usually greasy hair had been carefully combed; his entire bearing seemed different—sharper, more alive.
He even carried a faint, unfamiliar radiance.
Just like… just like that child who often came to visit.
Silence fell.
Mrs.
Prince sat motionless, thoughts churning as if she had sunk deep into old memories.
Time stretched out.
At last, under Minerva’s grave gaze and Severus’s barely concealed anxiety, she spoke softly.
“Then go ahead.
Do what you want to do.”
Light flared instantly in Severus’s eyes.
Minerva finally understood why Damien had urged her to come in person.
She looked at Severus with open approval.
“Mr.
Snape, you possess the noblest courage.
I very much hope that you will be sorted into my Gryffindor house.”
But as soon as the words left her mouth, Minerva saw Mrs.
Prince and Severus exchange a glance.
Severus then replied politely.
“Professor McGonagall, my mother graduated from the elegant Slytherin, and I personally hope to follow in my mother’s footsteps and become a member of Slytherin.”
Minerva fell silent.
In front of her stood a boy who had just used his own stance to refute the absurdity of blood purity—yet in the next breath, he wished to join the house that championed that very idea.
The contradiction pricked at her, leaving a faint trace of regret.
She wanted to warn him, to say more, but when she saw the resolve in his eyes, she chose instead to respect his choice.
Her voice, however, grew more solemn:
“Mr.
Snape, I hope you remember what you said today.
No matter which house you enter, do not let prejudice blind your eyes.”
With those meaningful words hanging in the air, Severus followed Minerva out of Spinner’s End.
After they left, in the dim little “mansion,” Eileen Prince curled up alone on the sofa.
When had it all started?
How had she gone from treating Muggles as equals, facing magic with calm composure, to a textbook “Slytherin,” dabbling in the Dark Arts and despising Muggles?
Prince lifted her gaze into the darkness, as if she could see her seventeen-year-old self there—bright, laughing, full of reckless spirit.
A smile slowly unfolded on her face.
Life, ah… a person always needed some shred of hope to cling to, or they would lose the self they were meant to be.
On the other side of town, by the time Minerva arrived at the Evans’ doorstep with Snape—no more than a few minutes later—she already understood why these two children had grown so close.
As Severus stepped forward to knock, Minerva used the moment to take stock of the family.
The front lawn was neatly trimmed and the exterior walls scrubbed clean.
Clearly, this household had enough means—and enough care—to raise their children properly.
Just then, the door swung open.
Damien stood in the doorway.
Severus went white.
He stared at Damien, jaw tightening, and forced the words out through clenched teeth.
“Why are you here?”
“Listen to yourself, Sev.
How can something so cold come out of that mouth of yours?
We’re friends, aren’t we?
Isn’t it normal for friends to run into each other?”
Minerva, too, was taken aback to find Damien answering the door.
A faint, uneasy suspicion stirred in her.
Her brilliant nephew, once so sensible and well-mannered, might have wandered badly off course in the past two years.
That suspicion solidified when she stepped into the sitting room and saw Catherine there, laughing cheerfully as she held Mrs.
Evans’ hand.
Minerva felt at once that she had located the source of the problem.
Even so, duty came first.
She set it aside and began formally introducing herself and the wizarding world to the Evans family.
Each time Minerva finished an explanation, Damien chimed in from the side.
“That’s right, Severus is a wizard—he knows all about this.”
After he had done this a few times and Severus was blushing scarlet, Minerva finally lost patience.
She caught her nephew by the ear and gave him a firm, whispered scolding.
She then turned to Mr.
Evans and apologized, genuinely contrite.
Mr.
Evans, however, answered kindly.
“Please don’t worry yourself, Professor McGonagall.
Damien is a good child.
It was thanks to him that we realized the mistakes we’d made in our lives.” As he spoke, he glanced at Petunia—who had been quiet the whole time—with a flicker of guilt, then added with a gentle smile, “Fortunately, we’ve already made amends.”
His smile radiated warmth, and the easy harmony in the room made Minerva’s heart soften.
But she had come on business, and there was a question she had to ask.
“Then,” she said carefully, “are you willing to let Miss Lily attend Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?”
This time, it was Petunia who spoke up, hesitant and unsure.
“Professor McGonagall… will my sister be bullied?
After all… none of us know magic.”
Before Minerva could answer, Mrs.
Evans drew Petunia into her arms and replied with a bright, reassuring smile.
“We agree to let Lily go to the magical school—and besides, we trust Severus.
He’ll help us keep Lily safe.”
As she said this, the green-eyed woman winked at Severus.
The restless boy nearly jolted to his feet at the gesture.
Rising a little too quickly, he steadied himself and said with grave sincerity.
“Of course, ma’am.
I’ll definitely take good care of Lily.”
After Minerva left, the lives of the five children slipped back into their familiar pattern.
They roamed the smoky streets and narrow alleys of Cokeworth together, side by side, even as each of them knew that the new term would pull them away from this grimy, beloved town and into a world they’d never seen.
Damien and the other three would head to the mysterious Hogwarts, while Petunia would leave for school in Surrey.
The fact of growing up had finally, truly, settled into each child’s heart.
Lily, too, clung to every moment, spending every possible minute and second with her sister, Petunia.
And so, in a haze of nerves, anticipation, and fear for the children, the days slipped by.
August 28, 1971
Damien and Remus were up at dawn.
They wolfed down breakfast, barely patient enough to finish, then dragged Catherine and Hope out the door toward Cokeworth station.
While the two families laughed and bustled about outside, Mrs.
Figg hid quietly behind her curtains.
She dabbed at the corners of her eyes, where fine crow’s feet already showed; in her gaze were relief and blessing—and the faintest, indescribable hint of envy.
At the station platform, the Evans family arrived first.
A little later, Mrs.
Prince appeared in a wide-brimmed sunhat, her son Severus in tow.
She had not been out in a long time and squinted against the harsh summer light.
Her smile looked stiff as she forced the corners of her mouth up and exchanged polite greetings with the Evans, the motions of small talk clearly rusty.
Inevitably, her eyes settled on the red-haired girl at Severus’s side.
For no clear reason, a sense of calm slowly settled over her.
While the two families were still chatting, Damien’s and Remus’s families reached the platform as well.
The group suddenly swelled to ten people, attracting plenty of attention as they queued to buy tickets and passed through inspection.
After a brief flurry of confusion and jostling, they finally managed to squeeze into the same carriage before the train pulled out.
With a long whistle, the train lurched into motion, carrying a compartment full of laughter and eager voices toward London.
On the train, Snape and Lily sat at the small table, scanning the newspaper spread out before them.
Damien and Remus, meanwhile, were roaming the corridor with Petunia in tow.
Remus caught sight of a familiar head of thick brown hair and rushed over, eyes lighting up. Read this novel at g.com for the best experience.
“Oliver, why are you here?”
“School’s about to start; I have to go back to London.
How about you?”
“Oh… we… Damien!”
Damien sighed at this painfully honest friend who couldn’t bring himself to lie, then smoothly took over.
“We’re going to London for a trip and to pick up some supplies along the way.
Petunia is going to Smeltings Academy.”
As he spoke, he shifted aside a little, revealing Petunia trailing just behind him.
“Oh,” Oliver said, looking a bit surprised.
“I’ve heard of that place, but the boys there like to fight too much, so you should remember to stay out of the way, Petunia.”
Seeing Petunia’s expression tighten with worry, he realized he’d said the wrong thing and hurried to add.
“However, the grounds are very beautiful, like an aristocratic manor, and the teachers there also train about a girl’s etiquette.
I believe that in a few years, when you graduate, we’ll see an elegant young noble lady.”
Petunia flushed at that.
She murmured a shy thank-you to Oliver and then withdrew, well aware that when boys clustered together, they almost never went a day without trouble—and she had no wish to be dragged into it.
Once Petunia was gone, the three boys shared identical mischievous grins.
Remus slung an arm around Oliver’s shoulders, while Damien stepped to the other side to cut off any escape.
Together, they closed in.
“Oliver, out with it—who was that girl who sent you a letter yesterday?”
Oliver stiffened at once and snapped.
“Damien, we’re friends, and you actually peeked at my letter!”
Damien bristled immediately.
“What are you talking about?
Couldn’t it have been Remus who peeked?”
Oliver curled his lip and shot Damien a look of mild disdain, which only fanned Damien’s outrage.
He launched into a mutter about his impeccable character and upright morals, while Oliver and Remus exchanged a silent, knowing glance.
After trying—and failing—to derail the topic for quite some time, Damien finally gave in under their combined stares.
He cleared his throat with exaggerated solemnity, struck a pose like a famous detective, and pushed up imaginary spectacles.
“Of course I wouldn’t peek at your letter.
That would violate my noble character…”
Remus and Oliver both let out disgruntled little coughs.
With an air of resignation, Damien finally confessed, “All right, all right.
When you opened the letter, a pink petal floated out.”
“Whoo-hoo—” Remus gave a strange whoop.
“Damien, you didn’t tell me that.”
Oliver’s face burned for what felt like ages before he managed to stammer, “It was sent by the girl next door.
There’s nothing between us; she just asked me to come back and, um, enjoy the flowers with her.”
Damien frowned.
“It’s already the end of August.
What flowers are you enjoying at this time of year?
Shouldn’t you invite me along to have a look too?”
“Damien!” Oliver pleaded, nearly panicking.
“Please, we haven’t officially confirmed anything yet.”
Remus grabbed his shoulders, eyes shining.
“So you do like her, right?”
Oliver nodded miserably, like a prisoner being marched to the gallows.
Damien and Remus immediately high‑fived and finally released the now‑pale Oliver.
As they walked off, snatches of their voices floated back to him.
“Didn’t he say he came all the way to Cokeworth to relax with Uncle John and get away from that annoying little girl?
And now he says he likes her.”
“It’s normal.
The girl’s probably grown prettier.
Oliver’s fickle; I always knew he was shallow.
Not like us, with our noble souls.”
“Damien, you’re absolutely right.
Your judgment of people is spot on.”
Behind them, Oliver sighed helplessly.
He resolved that the moment he got off the train, he’d give Damien a wide berth—otherwise that menace really might charge over to the house next door and start knocking.
Based on everything he knew about Damien, once that “genius” hatched a scheme, Remus would definitely go along with it, and then Merlin knew what they’d end up saying in front of Rachel.
“So the entrance to Diagon Alley is actually inside a pub we can’t even see!” Mrs.
Evans breathed, her voice full of wonder.
Linking arms with Mr.
Evans, she sighed from the heart.
“Magic really is an amazing thing.”
Prince gave a slightly awkward smile.
“We’ll be able to see it in a moment, and you’ll get to experience the wonders of magic yourselves.
As the family of a wizard, you can even buy a few snacks and such.”
Mrs.
Evans reached out and gently took Prince’s hand, her gratitude to this witch—who had spent the entire journey patiently explaining everything—clear in her eyes.
In the next compartment, Catherine and Hope exchanged a glance and a smile, quietly moved by the bond between the two families.
Time slipped by, minute after minute, and the train gradually rolled into London.