The Marauders: A Hogwarts Tale

The resonant knell of Hogwarts' clock tower dragged Lily, Myrtle, and Severus out of the mythical world of Avalon. Each peal reminded them just how long they had been hidden away in the abandoned bathroom, lost in the pages of a valiant tale. Now their senses returned to the damp mildew on the walls, the faint drip of water echoing in tiny puddles, and the cool, clammy tiles beneath their feet.

Lily closed the leather-bound book with a delicate touch, fingertips lingering on its worn cover. "Well," she ventured, "I rather think we've read enough for one evening. It is getting terribly late, after all."

Severus drew in a breath, clearly less willing to stop. "You can't be serious," he protested, betraying a faint note of impatience. "We're on the verge of the decisive battle, and—"

He noticed the knowing looks Lily and Myrtle exchanged and cleared his throat, adjusting his robes with deliberate care. "I mean," he added somewhat stiffly, "it would be rather improper to abandon the story just before the climax, wouldn't you agree?"

Myrtle emitted a playful giggle, nudging her ghostly spectacles with an air of mock gravity. "My word, Serious Severus, all stirred up over a book you dismissed as rubbish?"

"I have not altered my opinion," he retorted, though there was a slight falter in his composure. "It remains rather fanciful in nature. I merely dislike unresolved tales. It would be dreadfully cruel to be denied the ending."

Lily stood, slipping the book into her bag with a gentle smile. "Then I promise you shan't be kept in suspense for too long," she said kindly. "But we'd best be off before Filch catches us lurking about. We can continue tomorrow."

"Believe me, Evans," Severus said crisply, "I fully intend to hold you to that. However, please do go on. I'd rather remain here a moment longer."

Lily arched an eyebrow, poised to enquire further, but Myrtle stepped in instead. "It's just Severus being Severus," she remarked with an amused lilt. "He enjoys the quiet. Perhaps he needs time to let all that Avalon business settle."

She let out a soft laugh. "I daresay I know exactly how he feels." She cast Severus a parting look. "Don't stay too late, will you?" With that, she turned on her heel and headed out of the dilapidated bathroom.

Myrtle hovered, gazing down at Severus. "As for me," she said with a playful shrug, "being dead doesn't oblige me to lurk in one spot all evening. So, I'll be off. See you around, Snape." Then she sank through the floor, vanishing from sight.

Left on his own, Severus sat in silence, his thoughts drifting. After a pause, he reached into his robes and withdrew his Potions textbook. The margins were lined with meticulous notes, diagrams, and personal annotations. With the tip of a small quill, he added a new entry to a worn page: a single word—Sectumsempra—followed by the terse note, For Enemies.

"Salazar Slytherin," he muttered under his breath. "My thanks. Now, let's see if I can unravel this."

****

The following day drifted by in a haze of lessons, dominated by Professor Flitwick's meticulous teachings on counter-charms. Severus had never particularly enjoyed the subject. While he excelled in all things magical, his true passion lay in the intricacies of Potions, where precision and intellect reigned supreme over the flamboyant theatrics of wand-waving.

Yet his mind wasn't entirely on the lessons. It wandered back to Salazar Slytherin—or rather, the portrayal of Slytherin in the book they'd been reading. This Salazar was nothing like the infamous founder of Hogwarts whose name now adorned Severus' House crest, embroidered onto the robes of his uniform.

Gone was the stoic, cold reputation that shadowed the historical figure. Instead, the Salazar of Avalon was sharp, confident, and effortlessly commanding—a young man whose words pierced like finely honed blades.

Severus found himself drawn to that version of Slytherin. He admired the confidence, the charisma, the presence—qualities he yearned for but felt he could never truly possess. In Salazar, he saw an aspiration, a vision of who he might one day become if he could only shake off the weight of insecurity and bitterness that dogged him.

His black eyes wandered across the Charms classroom, observing the usual bustle of students practicing spells. It didn't take long to notice the absence of four individuals he despised with every fiber of his being—especially James Potter. Severus frowned, narrowing his gaze in thought. Their absences were curiously predictable, always coinciding with a certain time each month. The consistency gnawed at him, an enigma he couldn't ignore.

His contemplation was interrupted by a fluttering motion in the corner of his eye. A paper crane, enchanted to flap like a bird, drifted toward him. His eyes widened, and with a quick motion, he snatched it from the air. His gaze shot toward Professor Flitwick, his heart racing as he prayed the incident had gone unnoticed. To his relief, the diminutive professor remained absorbed in his lesson, back turned to the class as he scribbled a series of counter-charm techniques on the chalkboard.

Severus exhaled quietly and turned in his seat, his glare immediately locking onto Lily. She sat a few rows behind, her shoulders bobbing in an awkward, guilty shrug as a nervous smile played across her lips. Severus's scowl deepened, though a flicker of curiosity tugged at the edges of his thoughts as he turned his attention to the folded note in his hands.

He carefully unfolded the delicate parchment, his sharp black eyes scanning the words inked in a neat, flowing hand. As the message registered, his expression flattened, and he let out a quiet, exasperated sigh.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, he muttered under his breath, "Evans, you're absolutely mad."

****

As the clock struck eight, Severus slipped through the dim corridors near the Slytherin dorms. The underground passageways were nearly deserted at this hour, save for the occasional student hurrying back to their beds to avoid the wrath of curfew. His dark eyes scanned the shadows, wary of any prowling figures—human or feline. The thought of that infernal cat and its equally insufferable master drew a faint sneer to his lips.

He pressed on, the faint echo of his footsteps the only sound in the cold, damp air. His destination felt like a cruel irony given his intentions, but it was fitting, in a way.

Rounding a final corner, he came to a worn wooden door at the end of a short hallway. With one last glance over his shoulder to ensure he wasn't being followed, Severus raised a hand and rapped his knuckles against the door. A metallic clink echoed from within, followed by the scrape of a lock sliding back. Slowly, the door creaked open, the hinges groaning in protest.

Severus stepped inside, and the door closed behind him with a soft thud. His gaze landed on Lily, standing by the door, her bright eyes fixed on him with a faint smile.

"I must admit, Evans," Severus began, his voice dry, his dark eyes narrowing as he regarded her. "You might be the first person in Hogwarts history to willingly check herself into detention."

The Detention Room was a relic of the school's darker past, a place whispered about with trepidation. Its dull, stone walls were stained with age, patches of mold and mildew creeping along the damp surfaces. Framed parchments listing the school rules lined the walls, their ink faded but still legible, flanked by grim portraits of unnamed figures whose eyes seemed to follow every movement with quiet judgment.

Rows of desks were arranged like those in a typical classroom, but the room's true menace lay in its ominous details. Metal cages hung from the ceiling, their purpose long since abandoned but their presence unnerving all the same. Shackles dangled from the walls, rusted but still intact—a chilling testament to a time when discipline had been far more severe.

Lily, seemingly unfazed by the ominous surroundings, gave a casual shrug. "Well, someone had to ensure you actually turned up, didn't they?"

Severus arched an eyebrow, his tone laced with dry amusement. "A noble sacrifice, I'm sure."

"Oh, don't be such a prude, Severus," Myrtle teased, hovering above them both, her translucent form shimmering faintly in the torchlight. "Honestly, I think it's rather clever. Filch never comes in here, and even if he did, it'd save him the trouble of dragging you off himself, wouldn't it?"

"Sometimes, the closer we are to danger, the farther we are from harm," Lily added, producing her wand from her robes. With a casual flourish, the desks and chairs rearranged themselves neatly, forming a more accommodating setup for their session.

Severus raised an eyebrow. "That makes absolutely no sense."

Lily turned to him with a mischievous glint in her eye. "Would you prefer sense, or do you want to read?" She slid a chair out and sat down, gesturing to the seat across from her. "Or perhaps you'd rather spend the evening arguing over idioms?"

With a heavy sigh and a dramatic roll of his eyes, Severus pulled out the chair opposite her and sat down. Lily retrieved the book from her satchel, placing it on the table and flipping it open to the marked page. The soft flicker of the torches illuminated the worn parchment, casting a warm glow over the words.

Myrtle floated closer as her ghostly hands clasped together in excitement. "Oh, I can almost feel the goosebumps running over my skin!" she exclaimed. "Which is funny, because I don't have any, being, you know…"

"Yes, Myrtle, we're well aware," Severus interjected, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Shall we get on with it before I die of boredom and find myself haunting the Detention Room as well?"

"Patience, my dear Severus," Lily said with a playful smirk, settling the book in place. "Sometimes, anticipation makes the story all the more enjoyable."

With that, she began to read, her voice precise and deliberate, each word drawing them back into the world of Godric and his companions. Once again, they were swept away, immersed in a tale of courage, peril, and a battle destined to change everything.