FIC: Magic Maketh Man (PG)
Title: Magic Maketh Man
Type: Fic
Age-Range Category: Five
Characters: S. Snape, M. McGonagall, D. Malfoy
Author: gracelessmary
Beta(s):
PotterandEvans
Rating: PG
Note(s): Massive thanks to my excellent betas who persevered with me despite much doubting and confusion!
Summary: How does Snape survive Nagini’s attack? Perhaps the answer lies within…
It was quite reassuring to realise that magic did not, in fact, make the man. The journey from almost definitely dead back to pretty much alive had been tedious, far too long winded, but spent in a rather spectacular locale. Draco - who took one look at his former head-of-house unconscious in a hospital wing full of boisterous visitors and made a quick decision for once in his life - had taken him into the care of the Noble House of Malfoy and spirited him away to a penthouse apartment which had thankfully never been touched by the Noseless Wonder due to it being squarely in the centre of muggle Birmingham. There he had been slowly but surely nursed back to health under the expert care of several ancient and talented house elves, before being pronounced fit to leave under his own steam. Which sounds wonderful, to be free of all masters, have no real ties to anybody living, no debts to be paid, not even the threat of past deeds to bite him in the arse thanks to the work of Potter and Granger examining his memories and getting him a full pardon with Order of Merlin Second Class with a minimum of fuss or public knowledge. All in all, you would think that being the grand old age of 41 and able to start life afresh would be exciting.
You would be half right.
Magic is a funny old thing, you see. Whilst bleeding out on the floor of the Shrieking Shack, as he slipped into unconsciousness - not death thank you very much if you’d just checked for a pulse before legging it, typical rash Gryffindor behaviour - his magic had been hard at work. The tailored antivenin had been ingested as usual with his morning coffee (along with a whole host of other potions to keep a body upright under a frankly stupid amount of pressure from the Scaly One, the rebelling students, a ‘teaching’ duo more dunderheaded than any teenager and a board of governors who didn’t seem to realise he was trying to prevent murders here; alongside not another howler from a staff member and oh yes let’s just put a sword where the Boy Wonder can stumble upon it yes portrait version of the man I euthanized; of course I can just do whatever takes your fancy today) and was fighting back against the venom seeping its way through the bloodstream. However, there is only so much that an antivenin can do against major arterial severing, which is where a wizard’s innate magic steps in. It managed to stop the flow of blood and prevent death. Well done magic! In the process of healing under the Head Healer House Elf Mitsy it was discovered that the magic had overextended itself by approximately... too much. The official diagnosis from HHH Mitsy was “accidental squibage” - where the magical reserves in the core are pushed past the point of depletion. The human healers had agreed, after 3 years and a full battery of testing, that there was nothing to be done. Severus Snape was alive and well, but now without magic.
Which is why he disappeared off the face of the earth.
Well, he went to Bradford.
Not inner-city Bradford - though if you asked anybody who knew him that’s where they’d send you. No, to a tiny village, not much more than a few houses, on the very edge of the Yorkshire Dales. Quiet. Anonymous. It was a blissful solitary lifestyle, much like the dream his mother had shared with him in a rare moment of respite from his vicious father. Not only was he in a house with working heating, double glazing and consistently stocked kitchen, but he found himself to be a valued member of a tiny community.
While searching for a place to settle during his long convalescence, Severus had taken the time to truthfully evaluate his desires - something long denied him by the Scaly One and the Meddlesome Twinkler. His list would have shocked every single one of his former pupils, for none cared to look beyond the greasy hair and acerbic manner of their most hated teacher. His priorities were laid out simply - safety, a job worth the use of his time, a comfortable dwelling place, and to be his own master rather than scraping and bowing to people who never had his best interests at heart.
To make these simple sounding dreams a reality, Seth Prince had been brought into existence. With the help of a muggle barber to sort out his greasy curtains into something more manageable, a small cottage in a quiet commuter village, a new wardrobe to fit in with the locals, and a part time job with the ‘churches together assisted living campaign'. Seth, the quiet man with a sharp sense of humour was born. His mornings were occupied with the adults who he taught; a group of people with various disabilities who required lessons on how to live a semi-independent life. Their schedule was rigorous, with cooking on Monday and Friday, gardening on Tuesday, cleaning on Wednesday and a guest speaker on Thursday. Afternoons were usually spent with a couple of the adults he taught, acting as their companion, as their families asked Seth to mind them for the full day to provide relief at home. Evenings were his, to be whiled away in front of the fire with a chunky book, watching something educational or occasionally entertaining his few visitors in the city. It was a far cry from the petty aggravations of Hogwarts students, or the demands of an unhinged master, with any spare moment spent frantically researching long forgotten strategies or healing his many wounds.
Life without magic was not as uncomfortable as many would assume for someone of such infamy in the Wizarding World. As Severus had grown up in a house where magic was punishable by beating, he already knew how to function without a wand. The twenty odd years since his dismal childhood had only brought improvements in home technology, like a dishwasher and tumble dryer. The only people aware of his new name and location were Draco and Minerva, through whom all other correspondence came. He never met anyone from the Wizarding community in his actual home, not even his two confidantes; rather he got on the train from Ilkley (a town where he often spent the afternoon with his charges wandering in and out of charity shops or eating ice cream by the river) into the centre of Bradford. He refused any kind of magical communication, instead having a computer system installed in his study and a PO Box set up in his new name, which afforded him the luxury of choosing when to look at his mail rather than being dive bombed by grumpy owls at all hours of the day and night.
Severus had to drastically change his teaching style to suit adults who wanted to learn, rather than insolent brats who had little choice in being in his classroom. When mistakes were made, he calmly corrected them no matter how many times it had happened, rather than berating and docking points. Relying heavily on practical demonstrations, choosing to show techniques and talk them through rather than writing instructions on a blackboard and expecting students to follow them to the letter was a different approach for his new lifestyle; a pleasing challenge making him approach his sessions with something akin to keen anticipation instead of dreading having to punish hormonal miscreants every day. Although the subject matter was not what you might call difficult, the many needs of his adult students made for a good mental and physical workout. In the six months since he had started his involvement in the project, attendance had doubled, accidents had been reduced to nothing despite a particularly shaky but enthusiastic young woman who couldn’t grasp proper knife technique and local interest was high. They had even been awarded extra funding from two charities for their guest teachers and had been offered the use of the brand-new community centre with its fully accessible kitchen for their twice weekly cooking lessons.
It was surprisingly gratifying for the formally universally hated teacher to be a well-respected and quite liked member of society. Even when Seth was not with one of his pupils, he would often be stopped by somebody who’d heard about his success with the previously uninspiring lessons for adults with disabilities, or by a friend of one of his students commenting on what a positive impact he had made.
Unfortunately, Severus struggled to share his contentment with his friends from the wizarding world. They were all still trying to rebuild their lives, yet even though his had been irrevocably damaged - some would argue destroyed - by Mouldy Voldy’s efforts, he was quite happy with his new standard of living. Draco found it difficult in wizarding society due to his status as a former yet reformed death eater. Despite having no choice in membership to that ‘elite’ club, prejudices run strong and deep amongst those who had been harmed by his nastier colleagues. He visited Severus at least once a month, making a concerted effort to dress and act appropriately in the unfamiliar muggle environment of Bradford city centre. He spent much of his time after these visits researching ways to restore magic to his newly squibbed godfather, intent on returning him to the wizarding world despite his apparent state of satisfaction, but even with the help of the famous brain of the golden trio he was having little success.
Granger - having witnessed what she thought was Snape’s death - was trying her best to help her fellow Order member, but even with her extensive use of research facilities in St Mungo’s, the Ministry and Hogwarts she was coming up empty. The goblins had been gracious enough to grant her access to their cavernous collection, thanks to her tireless work in restoring the destroyed bank whilst lobbying for the rights of the goblin community. It had taken memories from all three of the escape artists to convince the leaders of their genuine intention to remove the horcrux as aided by Griphook, rather than to destroy half of the bank. The Wizengamot also helped in the search for answers, albeit without their knowledge, as the entire back catalogue of records from trials, petitions and law changes were found in a painting. The portrait of Albus Dumbledore spent countless days in the bowels of the Ministry, combing the painted stacks for any mention of this occurrence in the history of the wizarding world. He found eight mentions of instances where a magical person had been mortally wounded but their magic burnt itself out to save their life, with no mention of any cure. In all circumstances, the victim of accidental squibage became so upset with their changed physiology that they died within a few years, more often than not at their own hand.
Severus was proving to be the exception to the rule, as he had proved throughout his life. Where else would you find a child so thoroughly neglected and malnourished that survived infancy? Or to receive no schooling in his formative years, but score so highly in his first year at Hogwarts? Who else, having been bullied mercilessly both at school and at home, would turn against the protection of the pureblood elite who welcomed him and his skills with open arms to defend the very people who caused him such anguish? It stood to reason that another fatal blow in the minds of most wizards seemed not to faze the unusual man.
On the other hand, Minerva was delighted in his newfound domestic bliss. She visited less frequently due to the ridiculous demands on her time being Headmistress, usually escaping during the school holidays. There was one memorable visit where she managed an evening in early December - the two friends spent a few beautiful hours in Bradford Cathedral watching a Christmas Carol Concert. The music seemed to transcend mere sound, bringing depths of emotion that stayed with Severus for days to come. Minerva never commiserated the loss of his magic, nor looked at him with the pitying glances of any other magical person. She instead brought him little gifts from her muggle upbringing - the Narnia collection, a couple of records, a box of After Eight mint chocolates, a hot water bottle with a hand knitted cover, a bottle of tawny port and always a batch of her dad’s best shortbread. Both freed from the constraints of war, their friendship flourished under pots of tea and afternoons spent walking the Dales Way with pockets full of snacks, both grateful to be rid of the anxiety that robs the appetite for food or indeed life. He occasionally consented to comment on a new school rule, or the appointment of one of his former pupils, and he spent the evening of each first of May in a restaurant a few miles from Hogsmeade where the two war veterans could privately remember the fallen. This essential task prepared Headmistress McGonagall to face the rigmarole the Ministry foisted on the wizarding community, allowing her to present the cool and collected demeanour expected by those who thought they knew her.
So, before you go pitying Severus Snape, former Death Eater, spy for the Order of the Phoenix, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Master of Potions; think on this. Without magic he found a welcoming community, a fulfilling profession, people who respected him, and friends who loved him despite - or maybe because of - their history or circumstance.
Magic may maketh man, but the absence of it made this particular man’s life all the richer.