Sectumsempra | By : NihilEtNemo Category: Harry Potter > General > General Views: 1306 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0 |
Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, nor any of the characters from the books or movies. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. |
Disclaimer:
I don’t own the Harry Potter franchise, and while I wouldn’t mind owning
Severus Snape, I don’t own him either.
Rating: R-ish
Words:
1,492
SPOILERS:
Tells you who the Halfblood Prince is, anyway…
Summary: This
is about when Snape created the Sectumsempra curse,
and what he did with it.
Parings:
None
Warnings: None
Sectumsempra
setosgirl
I am not a coward.
I am not afraid.
I have nothing to fear.
I am not afraid, even if I do.
*&*&*&*&*&*
Severus Snape was aware of two
things. One was that he was doing something quite illegal. The other was that
he didn’t give a damn. He sat in Potions class with that unbearable Professor Slughorn and wrote in the margins of his textbook. This was
a very special curse… One invented for a very special person. And if that person ever so much as spoke to him again… Sectumsempra.
It seemed as if trying to get him
killed by their pet werewolf just wasn’t enough. What did those two prats want from him? That he slink
off and die a horrible gruesome death? No, they wouldn’t be satisfied with
that. They wanted him to die a horrible, gruesome death in front of the entire
school, preferably after begging for his life… Well, he’d be ready for them.
This curse… He let his fingers caress the word lightly. Sectumsempra… It sounded rather Slytherinish, didn’t it? But it didn’t sound nearly as
wonderful – as horrible – as it was. And only he knew the only way to undo the
damage it caused – and that wasn’t being written down anywhere, not even in
this book.
His mind went to another curse he’d
written in this book – one which had taken weeks to perfect, so that there were
more than a dozen scratched out attempts. Levicorpus. Rather interesting, and of very little practical use, to
be honest… It just hung one upside down by their ankle until the counter-curse
was said. Or thought, rather, for both were nonverbal. Odd that it had been so
complicated to create and yet so simple to perform…
Simple enough that even those
Gryffindor morons could manage it. And use it against him. How had they done
it? How had they even learned it – it was purely nonverbal, he was sure that he
had never said it… So how had they been able to take it from him, use it on
him, use his own curse to humiliate him…? And then, of
course, to escape unpunished, just as they always did, even though the scene
had been witnessed by more than a dozen people. Including a Gryffindor Prefect,
who had seen fit just to bury his nose in a book and ignore it.
For that, this new curse was for them. For Black, especially.
If he ever so much as looked at him again, he’d be bleeding from his
flayed-open chest, and unless he himself chose to save him… He was done for.
Then he glanced across the room.
There, in all his glory, was James Potter, with Lillian Evans… And Potter was
doing a motion with his hands that seemed to suggest that he was replaying a
rather cruel trick even the sympathetic Mudblood
could appreciate, since she giggled quietly. He sneered at them. Maybe Potter
needed cursed as well. That was fine. Just let them try one more thing – any of
them, even that stupid Pettigrew or the werewolf – and he could kill them. Easily. This time they would be the ones humiliated, they
would be the ones begging him for their pathetic lives… and he probably
wouldn’t spare them. ‘For enemies’ the caption said beside the words in his
book. Sectumsempra…
for enemies… And what would be the point of a curse this powerful, if he undid
it at the last moment?
Now he truly did have nothing to fear.
He was not a coward, and it didn’t matter how many times James Potter said he
was. Or Sirius Black. Or even Peter Pettigrew, stupid
sheep that he was, always doing what he thought Black would like. Following
everything Black did, making sure to be friends with the most powerful, the
smartest and the best in his House, never an independent thought or action –
Pettigrew disgusted him. To be humiliated and called a coward by these people
was unthinkable…
He knew he could take any of them in
a fair one-on-one battle… but it never was one-on-one, was it? No, it was
always four-on-one, or three-on-one with a pet Prefect just ignoring all that
was happening. ‘Gryffindor honour’… honour indeed. They were so honourable that
they’d attack him four-on-one over a few words, when there was miraculously not
a teacher in sight… so honourable that they’d break every rule in the school
and get out of it every time they got caught doing anything. Because they were all smart, and
attractive, and popular, and good at Quidditch… And then he would get detention for heir attacks.
Because he wasn’t. He wasn’t smart – he was, actually,
but the didn’t think so. He wasn’t popular – all these
morons were below him. He wasn’t good-looking – he could admit that, and
honestly didn’t care. He wasn’t even vaguely interested in Quidditch. He never
even attended the matches. He was more concerned with his schoolwork, but none
of the teachers seemed to notice that. They just noticed that he never decided
to get on a flying stick and throw balls around a field. He wondered if they
hated him just because he was a Slytherin. Slytherins always seemed to get the
short end of the stick around here; they were always classified as trouble
makers or worse, avoided and made fun of by every other House… If he had the
power, he’d make Slytherins the favourite, just to show the others what it was
like.
Potter laughed, and he ground his
teeth, snapping his quill in half and pressing his lips together to keep from
swearing. He had almost been able to forget about them for a few minutes… But no. They couldn’t even let him think in peace. Without
looking, he knew they were laughing about him. What else did they ever laugh
about? If he was around, he would always turn around and find at least one of
them staring at him… So now he never looked. He knew they laughed at him; why
did he need proof?
Slughorn told them all that they could clean
up, as he went around to look at their potions. He fawned over Potter’s, as Snape
sneered; mediocre, at best. His was perfect; he knew it was – and Slughorn nodded and told him it was very good, and moved
on. Pressing his lips together again, bottling up his anger as he bottled up
his potion to get graded – nowhere near what he knew he deserved, he knew that
it wouldn’t be – he shoved his books in his bag with a last loving glance at Sectumsempra, and
left before he could get cornered by the geek squad. He wasn’t in the mood to
have to deal with them.
The fates were against him; he
dropped a book as his bag tore down the side, and had to stop to pick it up, kneeling
there in the shadows as he tried to make everything fit and keep it together
again at the same time, all while hoping that they would walk by without
noticing him. But he was a Slytherin, with Slytherin luck. They circled around
him as he stood up, and he sneered at them.
“What’s the matter, Potter? Can’t
find the way to your next class without me to lead you?”
Potter gave him a bright smile. “I
think it must be the stench that’s befuddling us, Snivellus. D’you mind not stopping in the corridor anymore?”
‘Do it…’ a
voice whispered in his mind, as his hand tightened around his wand. ‘Prove you’re not a coward…’
Black spoke up, sneering at him from
the end of their group. “Rather looked like you were waiting for us – maybe you’re the one who needs a guide around
here. But I guess if I didn’t ever stick my head above ground level, I might
need a little help getting around too.”
‘It’s so easy…’
“He’s too busy trying to make up a
potion to get rid of that nose to remember how to get to his classes,”
Pettigrew told them all confidentially, looking eagerly at Black for approval,
which he got when the taller boy smirked. Lupin
stayed silent, but Snape didn’t even spare a glance for him.
‘Do it! It’s so easy – just say it… you can get rid of them all now… you
could be the one laughing over them as they beg you to help them… You can prove that you’re stronger than them all, that you’re better… you can watch
them all die… and they’ll never call you a coward again…’
He gritted his teeth and shoved past
them without a word. So this was the truth then… he was a coward. He couldn’t
punish them, when they’d been all too happy to try to kill him… He just couldn’t
do it. He heard them laughing as he walked away, and he knew he should turn
back and curse them…
But he didn’t.
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