Elliotofvanity​:

madeyed-andmoody​:

The Goyle estate wards were so easy a toddler could have done them. However, that was not why Alastor had brought Severus Snape with him. No, he’d brought him along because, despite Dumbledore’s assertion that Moody just trust the younger man, Snape still needed to be proven in the field. Thus far, they’d been trustworthy. Thus far, their information had been sound.

Yet something still nagged at the back of Alastor’s mind. It may have something to do with the fact Severus had tried prodding at it every chance they could get. Or, perhaps, the flippancy with which they handled curses and other dark magics - where it was a necessary curiosity for Alastor, one he’d indulged in to learn, Severus’s fascination lay far deeper.

Moody had known Severus would be able to get them the document they’d need from the Goyle estate. He also had his suspicions surrounding the estate and the missing Order members. At the very least, he figured Severus would have an idea.

Without a portkey, Moody and Snape were forced to trudge through the dark and, quite frankly, disturbing woodland. They’d been out for a long while, though the Order knew where they were headed. Both wix were clearly tired, though neither had admitted to the bodily weakness of tiredness. Not in front of the other. And, finally, they had reached the border, the clearing his would allow them to leave just ahead when –

A twig snapped. It wasn’t him, or Snape.

Alastor hunched his shoulders, grabbed fistfuls of Snape’s robes, and tossed him as far as he could - safely, it seemed, behind a broken section of an old arch. Not far enough yet, he noticed as he turned, planting his feet with a snarl, but getting there.

A curse came hurtling toward him from the shadows ahead and Alastor sidestepped neatly, tossing up a protego wide enough to span the opening he was protecting, fishing out his wand as he did. “Snape,” he barked, tossing a look over his shoulder. “Break anything? If not, find us a way out! Now!”

The trip through the private woods was long and tedious, and completely avoidable had Severus been able to replenish his supply of portkeys in time. He was not very athletic — or at all, really — and felt every unnecessary step they took down the woods with deep frustration and exhaustion. Neither of which he showed to his partner, whom he was sure kept one eye on the enemy and one on Severus himself. This mission was a test, and everything he did was, as always, under scrutiny.

A twig snapped. Severus swiveled around on high alert towards the source of the noise, wand at the ready — the weight of hands on his back and shoulder, a twist of fabric — The ground was swept from beneath his feet. Severus blinked. He only had time to be confused before he slammed against the ground a few yards away with a heavy THUD.

He got back up on his feet cursing and huffing and considerably more annoyed than he was only a moment ago. ‘ Fuck off! You bloody brick! ’ He shouted back at the buffoon that threw him across the fucking field, but he was half turned towards the broken arch, wand in motion, spells at the ready. Wards meant to keep people in were only a hair's breadth away from keeping people out. Severus reached into the edge, plucked its strings, and cast a spell, the incantation rolling off his tongue like water. A long string of latin whispered in gentle, coaxing tones, and the edge of the safety clearing shimmered and expanded it’s scope until it covered both himself and the Auror a few yards behind. It would keep their enemies outside of the dome. But more importantly, Severus and Moody can apparate out.

‘ NOW, ’ shouted Severus over his shoulder. ‘ We have thirteen seconds! ’ Moody had to apparate first, if Severus left the spell would break and the safety border would snap right back into shape.

perniciouspotter​:

James had been released from Mungo’s three days prior and had spent nearly every waking moment with Sirius since then. The day after his return home - well, to Godric’s Hollow, which was apparently his home now because the Estate had been sold and his flat with Lily was no longer his in the same way she was no longer his - he’d pulled out a bottle of Odgen’s wordlessly looking at Sirius for confirmation that his friend would get drunk with him. It was a bad idea - he was still on pain potions daily for the ache in his joints and the excruciating burning in his wrist - but he didn’t care.

The alcohol mixed with the potions had hit him hard and he’d spent the evening barely coherent, sobbing tears that wracked his body, rambling to Sirius about losing Lily and the dungeons and Remus and Peter and how everything was fucking fucked! Which is maybe why, hungover and bruised in his body and heart, when Rosier had come knocking the day after with a possible solution, James had hardly taken even a minute before he agreed.

Of course, it had to be Snivellus. Fucking Snape, who had conveniently reappeared back in their lives the moment James had left it. James had learned of Severus’ deflection to the Order while still in Mungos - had heard about his remerging friendship with Lily laying in the hospital bed. The day he’d learned it, he’d purposefully turned his wrist over and over again until the pain had caused him to scream out the way he’d been aiming for and the healers gave him something stronger and he’d fallen blissfully asleep.

But he needed Severus, even if he didn’t want to admit it. His wrist had been bothering him since that flower had peaked out and he could no longer use a wand. His non-dominant hand was shit with magic and they were still in a bloody war. So, on the very last day of the month, James opened up his door to Severus Snape and didn’t openly scowl at him. “Sniv - “ he began, old habits dying hard, but he adjusted it quickly. “Snape.” He jerked his head and stepped aside, allowing Severus into his home. “So… you can cure me,” he continued, his tone even, almost monotone. “I’m surprised you want to. Don’t wanna go for the final punch when I’m already down? Why, maybe you actually have grown since school.”

Severus didn’t miss the near slip-up, but far from surprised he was bracing for it. He was ready for this to be the most unpleasant encounter Potter could make, and from experience that was a rather tall order but entirely achievable for the twat he knew — what was unexpected instead was the correction. Severus, graciously, pretended not to notice. ‘ Potter, ’ he said in a clipped tone. He nodded in return. 

He stepped inside, paused in the entrance hall and turned to look at his enemy patient. With a slanted brow, Severus said, ‘ Surprised? War makes for strange bedfellows, Potter. A halfblood with a muggle name would have more to lose and to gain in this war than a pureblood boy with a trust fund. And what I want hardly overlaps with what I need to do. ’ He jerked his chin towards the injured wrist. ‘ You need that hand to fight, and we need you on the field. Ergo, here I am. ’ He lifted a shoulder, the bag shifting with the movement, vials jostling beneath the fabric. He didn’t respond to whether or not he can cure him. That remained to be seen.

Severus looked at the wizard for a moment. Head tilted slightly to the side. ‘ And I never liked unequal fights, if you recall. ’ That was you, Potter. He nodded down the hall, towards what he believed was the living room. ‘ Lead the way. ’

This is a list of curses Severus crafted for the Dark Lord during the last six years of their Death-Eatership. These spells are commonly used by Death Eaters, and experienced Order members came across them often in the last 6 years. There are no set counters for these curses yet – they’re mostly dealt with through a patchwork of obscure spells and potions that work as often as they don’t. There’s a rumor among Order members that Severus crafted spells for the DE, but it was neither confirmed nor denied.

Feel free to include these curses in threads,  plots, and backstory in whatever way you like! If you have any questions, let me know. (pls heed the warnings)

Battle spells:

Frigus —

Freezes the major blood vessels connected to the heart. Turns the blood to ice, spreads outwards. This spell is used in battle, and the victim of this curse loses consciousness immediately. If the counter is not cast shortly after the curse, or a healer had not found a way to keep the victim alive long enough for the ice to be melted, the victim will die.

The counter for this spell was crafted shortly after Severus Snape joined the Order of the phoenix.

Sectumsempra —

Always cuts. The wand movement is ambiguous – a quick and decisive slash, in any direction, upward or downward or sideways. The victim is cut in broad slashes, like a sword flying in broad arcs. If the wand is thrust forward instead as the spell is cast, then much like a sword the magic will stab through the victim from one side and come out the other. A clean cut.

Wounds from this curse can bleed for hours and hours, and are particularly resistant to common healing spells. The spell was created by Severus Snape during his sixth year at Hogwarts, and the healing spell was created some time after his graduation, but is still an almost total unknown.

Submerso —

Fills the victim’s lungs with water so they drown while standing in land. This spell is used in battle, and the victim will react much like a drowning person would. Except, unlike a drowning victim, the water can’t be coughed back up, and the common spells used to treat drowning victims in such an emergency only increase the amount of water and hurry the victim along towards their death.

There is no known counter for this curse. Healers have begun using bastardized cleaning spells to remove the excess water instead, but the victims are often left extremely dehydrated as a result, and the struggle is always getting there in time before it’s too late.

Putredine –

Purple flames wrap around the victim like thick ropes. They don’t burn. They weaken the flesh, poison the blood. Extremely painful upon impact. If left unhealed for long periods of time the flesh rots and must be amputated. There is no designated healing spell for this curse, and healers have had to use creative and various methods to treat it’s victims. Effectiveness of treatment methods is inconsistent.

Ave –

Spell leaves small but deep wounds in the victim, like holes. The number and depth of holes depends on wand movement and strength of the spell cast. The wounds are deeply reminiscent of bullet holes. 

Flamma pulmintra –

The precursor to Cinere, the ash spell. Turns the air in the victim’s lungs scorching hot, burns the victim inside out. There is no designated healing spell for this curse, and healers have had to use creative and various methods to treat it’s victims. Effectiveness of treatment methods is inconsistent. 

Naufragi tumet –

Attacks the nerves of the affected area of the body. The nerves swell and twist into new shapes. Extremely painful upon impact, and for a time afterwards the affected body part would be useless. Healers have had to use creative and various methods to treat it’s victims. Effectiveness of treatment methods is inconsistent. 

Lapise –

Turns the victim’s flesh to stone. Upon casting will transfigure the part of the body it hits to stone, and begin a very slow and gradual spread throughout the rest of the body. The speed and duration of the transfiguration depends on the caster’s skill. it can take anywhere from hours, to days, to weeks to spread out in a noticeable rate, by then the battle will have long been over. A skilled healer or wix knowledgeable in human transfiguration can slowly and painstakingly undo the effects of the spell, but the effectiveness of that process depends on the skills of said healer itself. The spell has no official counter, as it doesn’t officially exist in any text, and is only known and used by Death Eaters.

Pavor –

The victim is suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed by intense, all-consuming fear and panic. The effects of this spell last anywhere from minutes to hours, and the echoes of fear linger for long afterwards. Victims of this curse would do anything from freeze mid battle, drop their wand and curl up in a ball and rock back and forth, scream, weep, run and run and run amid spellfire with no direction or logic or thought. Nothing but fear. Nothing but panic. Very few people give this spell the weight it deserves – it has no permanent physical effects and as such, survivors of this curse are given a calming draught at most and dismissed as healthy afterwards without a second thought. 

Interrogation spells:

Flore —

Seeds twist into existence within every joint of the body. They grow, and bloom, and by the end of the spell flowers have pushed their way out of shoulders, elbows, and knees, in full bloom. The only thing that will stop the flowers’ progress is speech: talk, and the pain stops. Talk, and maybe they’ll finally kill you. Victims of this curse retain full awareness and mental clarity throughout this process. The pain settles without the haze to dull it.

If the spell is canceled before the flowers have pushed their way out, the victim may live. They may suffer permanent injuries, most notably in the knees, wrists, and elbows. The seeds will remain embedded in every joint.

Shortly after joining the order, Severus Snape crafted a healing spell that heals most of the wounds inflicted by the curse, depending on the severity, and a potion to dissolve the seeds and mend the joints back together. Full recovery is not guaranteed.

Dolor —

This spell is used for torture and for extracting information from victims. When cast, the lightest of touches upon the skin would cause the most excruciating pain. Running a feather down a victim’s arm would send them screaming and weeping themselves hoarse. A sharp gust of wind would cut like knives. The weight of their clothes, the press of their shoes, the texture of the earth against the soles of their feet. Everything will cause relentless waves of pain. Being under the effects of this spell for too long is known to send victims into shock, and in extreme cases, lose their minds.

Interrogations using this spell are usually conducted by two or more Death Eaters. One to cast the spell and keep it going, and the other to ask the questions and make sure they receive an answer. Victims of this spell are treated with the same remedies a victim of the cruciateus is. Non-Death Eaters who have seen or heard of this spell often refer to it as the other cruciateus.

That one mf-ing spell:

Cinere —

The victim turns to ash. First the skin, then the muscle, then the tissue, then the bones. It's a slow and meandering process, unsteady and certain only in it’s inevitability, picking up speed and intensity only to jolt to a near halt, then meander for a while longer as if to play some more. It may take, on average, from three to seven days to complete. The victim remains alive through the entirety of the process. There is yet no known counter for this curse. Once a victim has been hit, the only thing that can be done to stop the pain is a mercy kill.

This curse was created to send a message. Powerful enemies of the Dark Lord would die slowly and painfully in plain view of their loved ones, begging for death. This curse was not used frequently so as to not reduce its impact.

Severus made his way to the infirmary at a brisk stride, Selwyn’s blood soaking through his robes and arms by the time he stepped into the room. The battle was not what any of them had expected, and the trickle of suspicion he’d felt prior to being dispatched was regrettably well placed.

Severus weaved his way through the chaos of the infirmary after a mission and found the empty cot, where he placed Selwyn carefully and cast a spell to check her vitals.

Rosier cursed. Severus looked up — and his eyes snagged on a flash of bright red hair. His breath hitched like he was punched in the throat. ‘ Yes, ’ he said quickly, and rattled off Selwyn’s vitals and the injuries she’d sustained in the battlefield that he knew of, making his way over to the other cot. ‘ What happened to her?! ’ He barked, standing over Lily’s cot. There was a peculiar clarity amidst the panic. It was him, and Rosier, and Lily, and the cold claw of fear that sunk itself down his spine and spread through him. Everything else dissolved into white noise.

Evan & @wrongdeor (@asphodelroot & @theoselwyn referenced) June 24, 1984 - Infirmary roughly a minute and a half after Theo got brought in

Evan could handle chaos. It was part of his day job so handling injuries after the mission shouldn’t have felt nearly as exhausting as it did. Not even two full teams back and he was already dealing with one person in critical condition and the rest of the team having come back concussed or worst. He would owe a thank you to Emmeline later since she was doing a phenomenal job at going back and forth between people. She had better bedside manner than his own but he had the excuse of worrying about multiple people if it came to someone complaining to Hestia or Alastor. At the end of the day, he cared about no one dying more than being viewed as the friendly healer putting up with being sworn at, screamed at, or both.

He had been about to take a seat and catch his breath for a moment when Severus came in with someone, merely earning an arched brow and a groan before he shifted his attention from Lily to the two.

“Status update?” He asked, expression faltering upon realizing who the person Severus had laid out on the one empty cot was. “Fucking hell, shit-” Evan snapped his mouth shut to avoid saying anything more unintelligible than that, pinching the bridge of his nose before he spoke again. “Theodosia. We- Can I switch with you? I’ve got Lily and will update you once you update me.”

@melancolialunar​

June 14th, 1984. The Lupins’ household.

Severus stepped over the cobblestoned garden path and up the steps in a straight, uninterrupted walk, but as they stopped before the closed door, they hesitated. They were keenly interested to see how the adjusted Wolfsbane fared against the eclipse, and that was what brought them here in the first place, but before they rang the bell to Lupin’s mother’s house, they felt a rush of nerves at what awaited them and what to expect from this visit. The last time they dealt with an eclipse, Severus didn’t see Lupin for nearly a week. And the wolfsbane was completely ineffective then. Now — Severus wanted to see for themself. 

They shifted the strap of the work bag against their shoulder, adjusted the pot of hot soup in their hands, took a deep breath that they let out slowly. They rang the doorbell, and waited. ‘ Good to see you’re still alive, ’ Severus greeted dryly. But not dishonestly. ‘ We have a lot of work to do, ’ they lifted the shoulder with the bag strap briefly, shifted their stance, and patted the lid of the steaming pot of chicken soup. Then declared their offering, ‘ I brought food. ’

helloxhestia​:

Hestia’s eyes became slightly glazed when Severus said the name. But, no, not from fear. That name, over the past six years, had slowly developed a Pavlovian response in her. The words “Bellatrix Black” meant it was time to go to work.

But, his next words reminded her there was a real reason to be afraid. Liverpool.

Gideon.

Hestia instinctively looked at Moody with a pointed expression at the mention of Liverpool, and knew exactly why she’d been called so urgently. 

How could she have been so reckless? To finally get what you want, only to wish you’d never asked for it. If he had to face down Bellatrix on his first mission back, he might never go back on the field again.

She didn’t want to give Black any power over her and her teammates, but data was data, and Black’s track record spoke for itself.

Perhaps in response to Hestia’s look at Moody, Severus told her he’d already agreed. She nodded solemnly at this, and returned her attention to Severus.

Then, she heard their action plan.

She’d considered taking Gideon out of the field all together, but perhaps this could be a good compromise, sending Severus out with them, without wounding Gideon too deeply. They did believe in him, of course, no one did more than her, but… 

…it was Bellatrix.

As a response, Hestia opened her mouth slightly as though to ask “are you sure?” but remembered who she was talking to. If the past eight months of working with them had taught her anything, if Severus was unable to do something, they would have told her.

She looked them in the eye and almost imperceptibly nodded before turning back to Moody.

“I sanction it. Now, who’s going to talk to Prewett?”

madeyed-andmoody​:

Like Hestia, hearing the name ‘Bellatrix Black’ had instilled a visceral reaction in Alastor, one thay was neither shirked, nor ignored. Yes, he was shocked, but he also wasn’t. In some part of his mind, Moody had prepared for the inevitably of Bellatrix of another of the higher ranking Death Eaters to appear, though not, perhaps, for this mission.

He could feel Hestia’s eyes boring into the side of his head, but he refused to look at her, just then. Alastor leaned forward, hands braced on the table top, and listened as Severus recollected the past few moments. Hestia and Alastor both knew who they were speaking about, and their fears were staring them in the face.

However, Moody had told Gideon just yesterday morning that his involvement in these missions was his choice, that they would support him. The very real terror of Gideon freezing on the field – of Emmeline or Marlene or James, too, but certainly Gideon, now, with the…change in their relationship – was one that set his heart tripping over itself in his chest. And this, he thought, was why he had refused for so long to care.

(“But that wasn’t the truth, now, was it” the voice in his head hissed. “What of James? Of Gwendolyn and Lily, Severus, the Longbottoms? You care for them all, Moody. Do not lie to yourself.”)

Hestia sanctioned Severus’s joining Gideon’s team, and Alastor let out a breath, nodding his head. He still had not looked at Hestia, though he did now. Alastor did not need to check with Severus. He knew they could take care of themself.

“I will. He asked to come run something by me before the mission earlier. Sent me a message earlier at the office.” Alastor’s voice did not waver, nor did his gaze. “Gideon will be told of Severus’s move to thos team, and of the report. I will allow him to decide what his choice will be.”

If Gideon chose to stay, Alastor knew, at the very least, that Severus would be a deadly, efficient ally.

Severus looked at both their companions for a moment. Tomorrow loomed heavy before them all, but they felt confident in their ability to meet it head on. They were as prepared as they could be. They were devoted to the mission. There was nothing more they could do now.

Severus gave them each a brisk nod. ‘ I’ll see you both in the morning, ’ they said. They turned around and strode out the door. They had a lot of preparation to do.

END.

my father had the kind of anger all fathers do. it lingers your whole life

the unabridged journals of sylvia plath // audre lorde // sense8 “i can’t leave her” // halsey, i would leave me if i could // @ijaazat // fantastic bastards, death spells // catherine lacey

Severus blinked with a ‘who, me?’ look on their face. ‘ I’m sure I don’t know what you’re talking about, ’ said the cat that ate the canary. ‘ You must be exhausted. Being dead for 5 years will do that to you. ’ They were both products of Slytherin House, where privacy was only as respected as the protections around it. If Black wanted to keep his thoughts to himself, well, with due diligence he certainly could.

Severus conjured a desk chair (wheels, armrests, and all) that they dragged closer to the young man before they sat down, legs crossed at the knee, and leaned back. The air shifted palpably in the room, Severus was no longer interrogating a potential threat, they were catching up with an old acquaintance. A corner of their lips lifted at being called contrary, only a little too pleased with themself. ‘ Just twelve, ’ they said, ‘ for now. ’ If Severus dared to dream of what they would do after the war, it was this: make new spells. And potions, and wards, and artifacts. One day they might outweigh the violent magic they’ve written into the world.

If Severus was taken aback by Black’s following confession — and a confession is what it was, quiet and honest, however else Black chose to frame it later — they didn’t show it. Black had stumbled through epiphanies of his own since Severus had last seen him, not unlike the ones Severus had worked through themself to get here. ‘ What a surprise, ’ said Severus, ‘ look who had a change of heart, now. It’s only been 5 years, Black, what happened to you? ’

Severus listened intently as Black spoke. They watched him without blinking as the words sank in. They remained carefully impassive, face empty of all emotion.

I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve.

For one ferocious moment Severus wanted to pin Black down and empty his mind of all knowledge and memory, comb through his thoughts with tedious care, and pluck it’s secrets out one by one until they found what they were looking for. The moment passed. Reckless, Severus thought. Unlike most of the people they dealt with, Black knew of their Legilimency. A delicate hand was needed.

Severus hummed. ‘ Better late than never, I suppose. Only a few hundred died since your great discovery, but I’m sure you’ll carry their deaths with dignity, and such, and all. ’ They waved a hand to encompass the such and the all. Guilt over strangers did not factor into this at all, Severus suspected. Something happened to someone who mattered to Black, or Black thought it did, or would. That was what sprang the young man from the grave, or else his secrets would’ve died with him. But that was a question for another day. ‘ What did you find? ’

wrongdeor​:

Severus held the other’s gaze as he spoke his name, looking for snippets of memory, a passing thought that would reveal them to be a pretender. There was no distance between the mind he looked into and the name Regulus Black. This was, at worst, someone who fully believed they were the dead Heir of the House of Black. At best —

Doubt, despite itself, dissipated rapidly once Regulus opened his big bloody mouth, and the most ridiculous taunts left his lips. Hm, yes. There he was, the impossible brat. Severus almost grinned, suddenly, but schooled his features back down to impassivity. His shoulders relaxed just a little. 

He raised an eyebrow. ‘ I got sick of being told what to do, ’ Severus said, ‘ and treachery sounded grand. A better question would be why not, really. ’ He waved a hand flippantly. ‘ It goes better with my nature, yes? Halfbloods and their shaky convictions, and all. I suppose your darling Bella was right about me all along. ’

He walked up to the littlest Black, arms crossed, a slight cant to his head. He intended to look menacing, but his guard was down, and his tone was more inquisitive than accusatory: ‘ You, on the other hand, heir to name and to fortune — how does this go with yours? ’ What are you doing here, Regulus?

*

“Oi,” Regulus asked, leaning forward on that couch he’d rather burn than sit on again, “are you in my head?” He looked at the other, scanning their shoulders, their mouth, their general now-lost tension. “You are, aren’t you? You seem very pleased with yourself there, Severus,” Regulus added with a scowl that was patently false in sincerity and transparent to the thing he might label joy beneath it. “Figures you’d go poking.”

Regulus’ head fell back onto the couch, eyes sliding shut against his will yet following it at the same time. The duality of conscious and unconscious desires playing out in that one simple movement. He’d been worried, before, but whatever Severus was here to do, he’d do it without alerting the entire damn estate to it. That was safety enough for Regulus to close his eyes. Not despite Severus, but because of Severus.

“You always were a contrary little bugger,” Regulus agreed. “It was never enough to make one spell, no you had to make, what? Eleven, twelve of the things?” Regulus sighed, rocking his head back and forth on the couch in the best approximation he could of a shake. “Bella did turn out to not be right about much,” Regulus said quietly, “and I don’t think she was right about that.” That was entirely too much honesty for this conversation. Regulus was going to blame the sleep-deprivation if it was brought up.

“Treachery is quite the lark though, I must admit that. Always something done in a flurry of springtime fancy like a Hufflepuff after a pastry. Knees knocking together with the sugar high and excitement of it all.” Regulus shook his head again, choosing honesty, blunt and brittle a tool though it was. “I went researching. Volunteered a friend for something I never should have. Nearly lost him and found more than I should have in those books.”

Cracking open one eye through its leaden weight, Regulus looked at Severus. “I found something out. Something that could be fatal to someone I swore to serve. I nearly died for it and didn’t bother sharing it until now.” That eye closed again. “Don’t go blabbing that around, not even to Evans. Especially not to Evans. Strictly need-to-know, that. Might interfere with my future ambitions if it gets out and then I’d really have to hex you with something you didn’t make up.”

Let’s switch, said Rosier, and handed him a diagnostics paper and rattled off a list of instructions. Severus looked at the bed and rocked back on his heels, suddenly, like taking a physical blow. He’d fallen from a tree once, when he was young, twenty feet down and it knocked all the air from his lungs. The memory resurfaced unprompted, an echo of this moment, and he tried to take a deep breath. Then he took one step, two steps, and stood by Lily’s bedside.

His hand reached out carefully to touch her wrist, felt the faint pulse in her veins, and watched the air expand and expel from her lungs. For what felt like eternity, Severus stood like this, still as a statue. Waiting for signs she was getting worse. Bruised lungs. Internal bleeding. Broken collarbone. The list of diagnostics went on an endless loop in his mind —

Potter burst into the infirmary, a whirlwind of self important rage and childish animosity. Severus was yanked away by his bloody collar, and it was a testament to his current state of mind that it took him a moment to return to the present. To feel the anger light a fire in his gut. To think, who the fuck do you think you are?! Before he grabbed the front of Potter’s robes and slammed him against the wall of the infirmary, hard enough to rattle the shelves. ‘ Be quiet, ’ Severus said, a soft, quiet tone that belied the violence simmering underneath. ‘ Or get out. This is an infirmary, you fucking delinquent. Who do you think you are? ’

@healerrosier 

Date: June 24th, 1984, just after leaving the Entry Room Location: The Prewett Estate, infirmary  @wrongdeor & @healerrosier

James moved quickly from his argument - possible argument? - with Jones down the corridor to the infirmary. Lily, fuck, Lily. She could be dead. She could be dying. He couldn’t fucking believe that he’d let her end them when he knew it might end up like this between them and they’d be left with nothing but tainted memories. He could’ve had four more months with her. Damn it, Lily.

He was angry and tired and so, so fucking terrified. But he was also keeping his cool, Hestia’s words about how blowing up wouldn’t help him - how Evan wouldn’t let him stay - ringing through his ears. And, by the time he made it to the infirmary, he was almost calm. Almost ready to sit by her bedside and stay out of Rosier’s way.

Until - 

Fucking Severus Snape. As though he was the dragon he’d conjured earlier that morning, James roared with life, a sudden energy renewed in him. Because Snape was standing over Lily’s bedside. Snape was watching her, making sure she had an even rise and fall of her chest. “You!” James snarled, that simmering rage rearing it’s ugly head as he moved over to Severus and yanked on the collar of his shirt, pulling him back, away from Lily. “Get the fuck away from her!”

madeyed-andmoody​:

Alastor was bent over a table, pouring over the maps he’d drawn up on each of the childrens’ homes, York and London and Wiltshire and Liverpool. Each of them had become familiar, something he could trace over in his sleep by this point. It was imperative he knew, imperative that these children were kept safe.

Alastor hated feeling powerless, hated feeling like he was not doing enough. So he plotted and planned and he learned to fill in his inadequacies.

The dining room doors swung open and Alastor glanced up, eyes landing on Severus Snape. Just the wix he wanted. He motioned for the other to come closer, a pleasantry falling from his lips on habit.

“Snape. What did you find out?”

They approached the dining table, returning the pleasantry with a nod, their wand moving instinctively to spell the doors shut and ward them against snooping, magical and otherwise. ‘ Bellatrix Lestrange will be at Liverpool, ’ they said without preamble. ‘ The Lestrange brothers as well, ’ though that went without saying. The head of the beast being there meant it’s claws and tail would surely follow. They placed the small vial on the table, wispy silver shimmering under the morning light. Thoughts and memories, shifting images they gleaned from Rabastan’s mind the night before. ‘ We may need to keep our teams informed. ’ 

They paused. They knew who they'd assigned to Liverpool, and what they were capable of, and what they weren’t. ‘ I suggest we rethink our team assignments. ’