NOVEL ONLINE FREE Chapter 78: Lily Evans
Early in the morning, as Snape ate his breakfast at a leisurely pace, a soft tapping noise caught his attention. Looking up, he saw a plump barn owl perched on the windowsill outside the sitting room, gently knocking on the closed glass with its claw.
Setting down his utensils, Snape rose and quietly opened the window. The owl immediately stretched out one leg, tied with a thin string holding a tightly rolled parchment.
Snape caught the letter swiftly; before he could even feed the owl a treat, it ruffled its fluffy feathers, flapped its wings, and took off into the sky.
Finally, a letter from Dumbledore had arrived. Unrolling the parchment, Snape read the hastily inked message: "Dear Severus, I shall arrive at St. Catchpole village at six o'clock this evening. Hope I am not disturbing you. — Albus Dumbledore."
Reading the brief note, Snape guessed that the O.W.L. results would be announced soon, and since he didn't know the reason for the Headmaster's visit, he resolved to write the letter to young Bartie Crouch that very day.
Since Bartie's father had never really cared much for him, Snape felt no objection to taking on that responsibility in the elder Crouch's stead.
Finishing breakfast quickly, Snape turned upstairs, flicked his wand, and sent the dishes floating into the sink.
Sitting at his desk, he dipped his quill into the ink and began writing carefully:
"Dear Bartie,
First, my heartfelt congratulations on passing all twelve O.W.L. exams. By the time you receive this letter, I trust all twelve certificates will be in your possession. Well done!
You're truly a genius for patiently tackling History of Magic of all things.
I bet the examiner was all stern-faced, talking about 'upholding the Crouch family standards' and 'maintaining focus through N.E.W.T.s,' right? Don't mind him. If you ask me, you deserve a good celebration!
Yours sincerely,
S.S.
P.S. I'm proud of you. Also, does Flash know the house elf from the Black family?"
After finishing, Snape folded the parchment carefully and called his beautiful screech owl from outside. She now had a new name—Nocturna, meaning "night."
Nocturna settled quietly on the desk, motionless, as Snape tied the letter to her leg.
He gently stroked her head and opened the window. The owl affectionately pecked at his finger before spreading her wings and slipping out into the night, quickly becoming a black dot against the horizon.
Snape turned back to wait, boredom settling in as he anticipated the Headmaster's arrival.
That evening, Eileen had prepared extra dishes and desserts to welcome Dumbledore.
But as minutes ticked by past seven o'clock, there was still no sign of the Headmaster outside.
With no other choice, they ate a light dinner and cleared the table.
"Are you sure the date is right?" Eileen asked, wand sweeping to tidy the dishes as she frowned.
Snape pulled out the crumpled letter again from his pocket—he had unfolded and smoothed it over five times already.
"'I shall arrive at St. Catchpole village at six o'clock this evening, hope I am not disturbing you,'" he read deliberately, word by word. "It's the same every time."
"Dumbledore's never late, you know," Eileen frowned. "At school, I never heard of him being tardy."
"Who knows what's happened," Snape shrugged. "Maybe he got the date wrong this once. It's fine—I'll wait a little longer."
Eileen flipped through several borrowed copies of The Witch Weekly, keeping Snape company.
Hours passed unnoticed. When it was well past nine, Snape insisted Eileen go rest upstairs.
"You rest first," he said. "I'll be up soon too. If Nocturna returns and the Headmaster still hasn't come, I'll write him a letter."
Alone in the sitting room, the candle flame flickered gently beneath its glass cover. Snape stared at the dancing light, sleep creeping upon him until his head sank onto the desk.
He wasn't sure how long he'd been asleep when a sharp alarm bell startled him awake—someone was near the house.
Grinning, he shook his numb arm, drew his wand from his robes, and silenced the bell.
Drowsily, he looked at the wall clock—it was past one in the morning.
Outside, a torrential downpour lashed the windows, the rain rattling sharply, and wild winds howled.
Gripping his wand tightly, Snape carefully opened the front door and tossed a crumpled parchment into the storm.
"It's me, Severus," came Dumbledore's weary voice from the wind and rain.
Snape hurried to the door and peered out.
Dumbledore stood in the deluge, rain streaming down his black traveling cloak, merging with the rivulets at his feet.
A flash of lightning revealed a hooded figure behind him.
The figure stood silently, trembling in the storm, hair plastered to their frame.
"Come in quickly, Professor. Er— you too," Snape urged, ushering them inside. He cast a Muffliato charm toward the hallway to keep Eileen from waking.
Dumbledore stepped in slowly, letting water drip onto the floorboards.
Snape was startled—this was not the graceful Headmaster he knew, who always minded others and never caused inconvenience, much like his punctual nature.
Dumbledore removed his hood, revealing silver-gray hair.
Snape had never seen the Headmaster like this. His face was terrifying—more so than anything Snape could have imagined.
Gone was the usual kind smile; the blue eyes behind half-moon spectacles lacked their usual warmth. Each wrinkle on that aged face radiated cold fury.
A palpable power emanated from him, as if he burned with heat, trying to evaporate the rain soaking him.
The hooded figure trembled still, standing silently, water dripping.
"Professor, you should dry your robes with magic or change," Snape hesitated, "I'll fetch some clean towels and robes, and brew some hot tea. There's an empty room you can use—"
"Severus…" the figure lifted their head.
In the dim candlelight, Snape recognized those green eyes.
Lily Evans.