I SWORE to myself that I'd never do this, but here I am. What is it I swore I'd never do? Write an OC HP story. I don't like OC's personally, but this idea just got stuck in my head and wouldn't leave until I wrote it down.
Hopefully, my OC will be believable. I swear it's not a Mary-Sue. Nor a Larry-Sue. If you are easily offended, do not read this; a few four-letter words appear.
It was a perfectly ordinary school day at Aton High School. The sun was shining, the birds were singing and the students were attending their classes. The only thing different about the day was that it was still only mid-August, too soon for most schools to have begun their term. Aton, however had begun their school year early this year, much to the students dislike.
Most students were attending their classes, but whether they were listening or not there was no way of knowing. One student, with his school-books carelessly strewn in front of him, was skipping his class. Instead, he opted to catch up on his sleep, half-lying, face on his crossed arms, on a table.
Aton had no official school uniform, on the grounds that it would repress the students' freedom. This rule, or lack of rule, had resulted in a few eye-blinding creations in the way of clothing. This student was a lot more conservative in his clothing. It was almost uniform black, with the exception of the grey sneakers he wore.
His black hair, which hung a little past his shoulders, was currently hanging in front of his face, blocking it from view. There was really nothing about him that was out of the ordinary. He was maybe a little thinner than general, and a little paler, but otherwise, he was perfectly normal.
His name, as listed in the school year-books, is Cole McLaughlin. At age eighteen, his life is as normal as he could hope for. But everything can change.
The bell rang, and students started filing out of the classrooms. A few of them passed the table where Cole was still lying, asleep, but none of them made a move to wake him up or remind him that he'd missed a class. Suddenly, as if someone flipped a switch, he woke up and gathered his books.
A few students glanced at him, but otherwise he was left alone. He pulled out his headphones and put them on, shutting the sounds of the rest of the school out, listening to the music blaring out of them.
Mama they try and break me
The window burns to light the way back home
A light that warms no matter were they've gone
And they're off to find the hero of the day
But what if they should fall by someone's wicked way
He reached a classroom door, with a tag proclaiming that it was, in fact, the Arts classroom. He pushed the door open and entered; ignoring the class already assembled in front f the teacher, and headed towards one of the corners.
Sitting down on a chair in front of a large canvas, he put down his books again, and pulled out a brush. He dipped it in water, grabbed a watercolour palette and set to work. He turned up the volume, ignoring that people threw him angry looks as the music blared loud enough for them to hear it, despite the headphones, and started painting.
Still the window burns
Time so slowly turns
And someone there is sighing
Keepers of the flames
Do you feel your names?
Can't you hear your babies crying?
An hour passed, during which the students frequently glared at him, glares which he ignored every time. When he finally put down his brush again, the lesson was over. He stood up, gathered up his things once again, and headed out of the room, with a nod to the teacher.
He retreated to the table, put his books on it again, and pulled out a sketch-book and started drawing absently.
Severus sat down in the overly comfortable chair in front of the Headmasters desk, and waited for Albus to say something. The Headmaster, however, seemed absorbed in his own little world, which probably consisted of lemon drops and mad schemes to make others miserable. Minutes ticked by, and none of them made a move to say or do anything.
"Albus, this is getting ridiculous. Why did you call me up to your office?" Severus asked impatiently.
"Oh, that's right, how kind of you to remind me, Severus." Albus replied happily, and pulled out some documents from under the towering stack on his desk.
He handed them to Severus, and beamed as if it was a great accomplishment on his part. Severus raised an eyebrow, and looked down on the paper he'd been given.
It has come to our attention that unauthorized magic was performed in the town of Wye at nine-twenty-five last Wednesday. It is out wish that you look into this as soon as possible. If not, steps will be taken to ensure it never happens again.
Mafalda Hopkirk, Department of Magical Law Enforcement.
He glanced up at Albus, raising an eyebrow quizzically. This was nothing unusual; students' ´forgot´ about their letter stating that they were not allowed to do magic outside school all the time. He failed to see why this was any of his concern, unless it was a Slytherin doing the rule breaking.
"I believe this is something for you or the Ministry to deal with, unless it's a Slytherin concerned. Is it?" He asked.
"No, it's more complicated than that; it's isn't a Slytherin, or a Gryffindor. The problem is that it isn't a Ravenclaw or a Hufflepuff either."
"But pre-Hogwarts students perform magic all the time. It's what makes us invite them to Hogwarts. And the Ministry can't honestly expect that if we don't take care of it, they'll send someone to ´deal´ with it. What harm can an eleven-year-old do?" Severus asked, getting annoyed.
"Not much, or a lot, depending on how powerful they are, but who is talking about eleven-year-olds?" Albus raised an eyebrow, eyes twinkling.
"We are, Albus. Stop playing games and tell me why I'm here." Severus sighed.
"I looked into this, and discovered that the boy performing the magic was eighteen years old. The funny thing is, it was his first magic. He has never even showed signs of being a wizard before."
"Eighteen? Talk about late-starter." Severus snorted. "But I still fail to see why this concerns me or you for that matter."
"Obviously the boy will have to be schooled, and while late-starters are often tutored privately, on account of them being too far behind the others their age, I have decided to let him start here. As all other teachers are busy, and sending an owl would not suffice, I'm asking you to inform him."
"What? Me? Albus, that's not a good idea; he's lived with Muggles his whole life, he practically a Muggle himself, and you know how bad I am with them."
"Severus, it wasn't a question, it was a request."
"Oh, alright you old coot, I'll go, but you'll have to drag me kicking and screaming if you ever ask me to do anything like this again!" He warned and stormed out of the room.
Severus stormed down the corridors, stopping only to take points off from some anonymous Hufflepuff who was knocking the suits of armour over. He couldn't believe that Albus sent him off to the Muggle world. Muttering curses under his breath, he entered his private chambers and started digging through the drawers for something less wizard-like to wear.
Having gone through all his drawers in less than ten minutes, he came up with nothing but a black T-shirt with green letters on it, spelling out ´Snake's Rule´, and a pair of black jeans. Biting back a new stream of curses, he put them on and searched around a bit more, coming up with an, unsurprisingly enough, black jacket.
He glared at his reflection in the mirror. The T-shirt had been given to him by the Slytherin Quidditch-team, in a far away past when he himself had played for them, back in his own school years. It had been lying, forgotten, at the bottom of a trunk, until a few years ago when he'd moved it to his closet.
Still scowling, he headed out the door, towards the entrance. A few of his students tried to approach him, but after he'd verbally bitten their heads off, they stayed away, wisely. He ran into Minerva on the way, and shot her a death glare when she dared to snort at his clothing.
As soon as he was outside the gates of Hogwarts grounds, he pulled out his wand and Disapparated. If he ended up Apparating on top of some Muggle's head, Albus would be sure not to send him anywhere else. Besides, he needed to vent his frustrations.
Cole had put his sketch-book away and resumed his sleeping activities. He had been sleeping for about an hour when, since he was an extremely light sleeper and wasn't really sleeping in any case, he heard his name mentioned. He opened his eyes, and cautiously lifted his head. Not far enough to be noticed, but enough to see what was going on.
Over by one of the entrances, a group of students were being interrogated by a tall man in black clothes. The man had an appearance that just screamed ´draw me´; black hair, going just down to his shoulders, falling into his eyes every now and then, forcing him to brush it back over his shoulder. Dark eyes, but from this distance he couldn't see what colour they were and he was pale as a ghost, but it was the nose that caught his attention.
It was large and hooked, making it resemble a beak, and sometime it must have been broken. All in all, it made the owner look a bit like a hawk. He silently decided to draw the man as soon as he could. After he'd found out why they were talking about him of course. Turning his head slightly, he started eavesdropping.
Severus arrived at Aton soon after Apparating into a deserted alley. He decided not to go to whatever headmaster or principal they had in this place, and instead ask the students where he could find the boy, whose name was Cole McLaughlin.
He stopped a group of likely looking victims, that is to say, students, who were standing around just inside the doors. They didn't look like they were very interested in anyone but themselves, but they should at least have a general idea of who knew what he needed to know.
"Where can I find Cole McLaughlin?" He asked, not being one to beat around the bush.
"What do you want with that moron?" A blond haired boy who reminded him slightly of Lockheart asked, sneering, as if challenging Severus.
Oh no you don't. You're challenging the master at his own game boy, he thought. Putting on a sneer of his own, he answered the boy.
"What I want with Mr McLaughlin is my own business. Are you going to tell me where he is, or will I be forced to go find a creature with enough brain capacity give me a coherent answer?" He spat.
"That won't be too hard" Another boy answered, stopping right beside him. "Things that grow on mouldy bread have more brain capacity that him. If you want McLaughlin, he's in the corner over there. You might not want to wake him up though; that bitch bites."
The boy set off again, without waiting for Severus to retort. He raised an eyebrow. Sleeping? And at school time, too.
"That won't be a problem; I bite back." He said softly, and looked towards the corner that the boy had indicated.
There, slumped across a table, was a black-haired boy, clearly asleep. Ignoring the chattering group beside him, he headed to the table. Even though the boy didn't move an inch, and his breathing remained the same, Severus detected the small, but noticeable to the right person, signs that he was not truly asleep.
He bit back a curse as the black haired man walked towards him. Forcing himself to remain still, he wished fervently that the man, whoever he was, would go away. He had enough on his mind without strangers invading his privacy and asking questions.
The man stopped in front of the table, looked at him for a little while, before sitting down across from him, and leaning back.
"We both know full well that you are awake, Mr McLaughlin, so it would be favourable to you and to me, if you would desist pretending to do so instantly "The man said.
Good Gods, who spoke like that now a days? He sounded like he stepped right out of some old English play! And how had he known that he wasn't asleep?
Still undecided whether or not this man was completely sane, Cole lifted his head off his arms and glared at him, blue eyes showing his irritation.
"What do you want?" He growled.
"You are in no way making my job easier, Mr McLaughlin. Believe me; I would prefer being back in my laboratory, hell, I'd rather be sitting through a tedious History lesson than be here, but yet I am here, and I will do what was asked of me." He said, matching Cole's glare with a glare of his own.
"I'd laugh, if I had the energy to. Why don't you start making sense, Mister?" Cole snorted.
"Professor." The man clipped in, looking vaguely offended.
Cole looked him over. Professor? He looked like he was in his thirties, early forties at the most. That was much too young to be a professor of anything, at least in his opinion.
"Professor?" He snorted, "Yeah right, and I'm Richard Nixon."
"I assure you, Mr McLaughlin, that I am a professor, and that you are in no way America's president, dead or no." He looked annoyed now.
"Whatever. What do you want?"
"I have a letter for you, but I believe it might be best if I explained matters to you thoroughly first."
"You could start off my telling me your name." Cole said, eying him suspiciously.
"Severus Snape." He was informed.
"Geez, you sound like you just stepped out of some horror movie. Now what do you want? I haven't got all day, you know." The bell rang suddenly, "In fact, I think I just ran out of time. Good day." He said and stood up.
But he seemed not only to be out of time, but out of luck too. As he once again slapped his headphones over his ears, the man who had introduced himself as Severus Snape stood up to follow him.
"Not so fast, Mr McLaughlin. If you do not have time now, you will make time. This is more important than anything else that can possibly be happening right now. Besides, you have just slept your way through time that was undoubtly meant to be spent attending a lesson." He said. "So don't tell me you can't make time now."
"Why the hell not? I did just sleep my way through the Math lesson, but I have a free hour right now, and I am going to the Arts classroom. If you want to tag along, it's fine by me. Don't expect me to pay attention though." Cole said, now thoroughly confused.
Snape just nodded, and followed him to the Arts classroom. This guy was starting to freak him out.
Severus followed the boy to his ´Arts´ classroom. His foray into Muggle Studies had not been very exciting, and it was the one subject he had not paid attention in, so his knowledge of Muggle school subjects was less than minimal. Non-existent, almost.
So when they entered a large room, with a high ceiling and white walls, covered in various paintings and drawings, he was rather surprised. He had no idea that Muggles put so much weight on Arts that they taught it as a school subject. He assumed that McLaughlin was going to have an Arts-lesson, but apparently he was wrong, since although there was a class assembled in front of the teacher, McLaughlin didn't head over to them, but instead walked to a corner.
Well there, he sat unceremoniously dropped all he was carrying on the floor and pulled up a chair to an easel in front of him. Judging from the lack of reaction from the students in general and the teacher in particular, this was normal behaviour from the boy. Intrigued, he stepped closer and watched as the boy started painting.
It appeared that he was doing a large picture of a dragon, a dragon which closely resembled a Swedish Short-Snout of he remembered his Care of Magical Creatures lessons correctly. It surprised him, since Albus had said the boy was wholly Muggle, and had never performed magic until last Wednesday, much less seen a dragon.
He wasn't sure what the Muggle contraptions that the boy had stuck over his ears were, but it seemed he was more or less deaf at the moment. Since the boy was busy and therefore less likely to answer any questions, he distracted himself by looking at the various sketches and finished paintings and drawing scattered over the near-by tables.
His eyes widened; the boy was good, damn good. Even in the most basic pencil sketches, he could detect a great talent. Some of the pictures made him wonder if it was a photograph or not. Never one to bother with such details as permission, he started rifling through a pile of drawings.
He froze suddenly. A Familiar face was looking up at him from the paper, smiling widely, as if recognizing him. That red hair, those green eyes. How in the blazing hell had McLaughlin managed to draw her so perfectly, when he knew for a fact that the boy had never seen her?
He was so absorbed in to drawing that he didn't notice McLaughlin coming up next to him. At least, not until some sort of what he assumed was music blasted in his ear. He jumped and snapped his head around to glare at the boy. He had removed those Muggle contraptions from his ears and they now hung around his neck, clearly the source of the music. If you could call it that.
"Nice one, huh?" The boy asked. "I drew it one day when I was bored; never knew it would be that good. The idea just popped into my head."
"You mean you drew this out of your imagination?" Severus asked.
"Of course. Don't have many people around to draw from." He shrugged.
"Fascinating. And it looks just like her." Severus mumbled, eyes returning to the drawing.
Cole was, against his will, curious about the man who said his name was Severus Snape. He wasn't sure that was the truth; no mother could be that cruel to a child. On second thought, a mother could be that cruel, but that was hardly the matter. Snape was staring down on one of his better drawings, mumbling something that sounded like ´It looks just like her´.
"Someone you know?" He ventured, wondering what had made the mysterious man so fascinated with his drawing; it was only a drawing, for crying out loud.
Apparently, it was the wrong question to ask. Snape's face tightened, and he put down the drawing again. He turned to Cole and raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the headphones around his neck, which were currently blasting ´Low Mans Lyric´ at top volume.
"What" He asked, "Is that supposed to be? Do not tell me it's music; that is degrading the word."
"What? What've you got against Metallica? Here, listen." He offered, pulling off his headphones and sticking them over Snape's ears.
He was a bit surprised as Snape recoiled and his fists clenched, but as soon as the headphones were over his ears, he seemed to relax again. He listened silently eyes focused somewhere in the floor.
He'd reacted automatically when the boy had stuck the contraptions over his ears, by recoiling and nearly punching him. But when he'd realized the boy wasn't trying to hurt him, he calmed his ex-Death Eater nerves and listened to what the boy had called Metallica.
So as I write to you now
Of what is done and to do
Maybe you'll understand
And won't cry for this man
´Cause low man is due.
It wasn't as bad as he'd thought it'd be. Obviously the ear-things were best when put close to the ear. And the music wasn't that bad, either.
Please forgive me
So low the sky is all I see
All I want from you is forgive me
So you bring this poor dog in from the rain
Though he just wants right back out again
And I cry, to the alleyway
Confess all to the rain
But I lie, lie straight to the mirror
The one I've broken to match my face.
It was rather good actually. Tugging the contraptions off his ears, he handed them back to the boy, who took them and stuck them over his ears again, but left one ear free, as if to listen to whatever he had to say.
"I stand corrected; it is music. But I did not come here to discuss the finer points in musical arts with you."
"Then why are you here?"
"I was sent by the Headmaster of the school I teach at to offer you to start there." He said, sighing.
"Why would I want to?"
"This is not a suitable place for this discussion. May I suggest we go elsewhere?"
Without waiting for an answer he walked towards the door, leaving Cole to either follow him or stay behind. He chose the former.
A few minutes later found them seated outside the school grounds, on a park bench, which Cole had deemed private enough. He had no idea why Snape was being so damn secretive, and he wanted to know.
"So, tell me why the hell you're being so damn secretive." He ordered.
"Because the school I teach at has a strict policy of secretiveness regarding school matters towards all those not attending or teaching there."
"And now you're asking me to come there? How far away is it?"
"It's a boarding-school, Mr McLaughlin, how far away it is has no significance." Snape answered.
"Boarding school? No offence, Snape, but I don't think I'll be going." Cole laughed.
"I wasn't aware that you were given a choice in the matter." Snape stated.
Cole laughed again, but catching the look on Snape's face, he quickly stopped. The man was dead serious.
"Bloody hell, you're fucking serious!" He exclaimed, getting to his feet.
"Kindly refrain from using such terms in my presence, but yes, McLaughlin, I am serious." Snape said, not budging an inch.
"You are, are you? Well, give me one good reason to why the hell I should go with you." Cole demanded, not really bothering to stop and think.
"As I said, McLaughlin, you aren't given a choice in the matter. Yesterday, the school received a letter concerning you and your attendance to the school, which I am not at all sorry to say, it compulsory. We have the means to make you go, whether you agree or not." Snape coldly informed him.
"Oh, shit. That's it, I'm going. There's no way that I'm going with you, threaten me as much as you fucking want, but I won't go." Cole said, starting to get a little afraid.
Snape sounded like some kind of criminal. ´We have the means to make you go, whether you agree or not´. Christ, this was like taken out of a movie. As Snape stuck his hand inside his jacket, Cole decided it was time to go, or at least find something heavy to hit him with.
But instead of pulling out a gun, like he'd though he would, he pulled out a piece of what looked like parchment. Cole listened, frozen in place, as Snape began to read out loud.
"´Headmaster Dumbledore´, well let's skip that bit. ´It has come to our attention that unauthorized magic was performed in the town of Wye at nine-twenty-five last Wednesday. It is our wish that you look into this as soon as possible. If not, steps will be taken to ensure it never happens again´" He read.
"And what the hell does that mean?" Cole asked shakily, suppressing the urge to scratch at his ears.
The man had read a letter, clearly addressed to the Headmaster of the blasted school, but it had mentioned magic, and Snape had acted if it was an everyday occurrence and quite annoying. He'd acted as if it was true.
"It means, McLaughlin, that you are a wizard." Snape informed him calmly, folding the letter and putting it back in his pocket.
Ending Notes; Hopefully, it wasn't too awful. I will probably continue this, but I want to finish Unbroken Curses first. I have an idea for another story too, but that one is going to take a while.