“Now remember: Destination, Determination, Deliberation! Concentrate on the place you want to go. Concentrate on the circle in front of you.”
The dark-haired boy tried to reel in his mind, but was so angry that he couldn’t concentrate on anything except for that Malfoy boy. Why, he could just--
“One...”
Okay, okay. Clear mind, he thought. But once this was over . . .
“. . . two . . .”
. . . he’d show that pale coward . . . FOCUS, NOW!
“. . . three!”
The boy had no more time. He spun around spectacularly, then everything went dark. It felt as though every part of his body were being compressed--squeezed into the space of an atom. Just when he thought he would burst from the enormous pressure, everything released, and he found himself on dark, damp cement. Taking an inventory to make sure he was fully there, he stood up and looked around. It appeared that his apparition had worked extremely well--too well, in fact. Not only was he no longer in the Great Hall, but he was clearly nowhere near Hogwarts anymore. Instead, he was in a dark alley, lined with soot and bits of rubbish. Not far away, the boy noticed King’s Cross Station, and then Hogwarts far in the distance.
“Okay, all I have to do is apparate back. Now, what were the three D’s . . .? Desperation, divination . . . no, that’s not it at all. But if I concentrate hard, I can make it.” But however he concentrated, the boy could not get even one of his dark, messy hairs to move.
“Perhaps if I can just get to King’s Cross Station, I can get back to Hogwarts and explain to Professor McGonagall why I am missing her class. I’m sure she’ll understand.” Cautiously, the boy made his way to the end of the alley, where he was stopped by a tall figure in a dark cloak. Instinctively, the boy drew his wand.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” warned the figure, drawing his own wand--a long wand made from sturdy elder wood. Trembling, the boy turned around to escape, only to be stopped by another cloaked figure. He held a small, roundish object in one of his hands.
Laughing sinisterly, the second figure jeered, “Heed his warning, boy. He has no control of himself, especially where his temper is concerned. Oh, but don’t worry. Should any harm befall you, I can always revive you. I am greater than my brother in that sense.” He gave another snicker.
Attempting to keep his distance from both figures, the boy backed up and tripped over--nothing? Except that the nothing exclaimed, “Ouch! Now was that really necessary? Antioch, Cadmus--you’ll give it all away!”
And before the boy stood a third figure--at least, the head of one. He did not appear to have any body, though the boy had definitely tripped over something. And yet, he had heard those names.
“Impossible.”
“Is it, boy,” cackled the first figure, “or have you just stumbled upon the world of your nightmares?”
Stunned, the boy looked questioningly to the third figure’s head, who gave what seemed to be a warm smile.
“It is true. You have been called into the realm of the world’s past evils. And once here, no soul may escape.”
“You are the Peverell brothers?”
“It is so.”
“Why are you here?”
“We are the guards of this realm. Once called here, no soul may escape unless he is so pure that he can pass through every level unscathed. My brothers and I are destined to forever guard the world of the dead as embodiments of the three greatest character fouls: wrath, pride, and fraud.”
“Well, I can understand about your brothers--they seem the wrathful and proud sort. But what about you? You were Beedle and Bard’s hero.”
“Ah, yes, but the peace of an invisibility cloak does little to excuse a life of using it as a fraud. Anyway,” he added, giving a cunning grin, “how well did they know me? How well do you? It was I who disguised myself from Death for the longest time. And now, we must keep you here until it has been determined what your next destination will be.” His smile, though it did not seem malicious, made the boy rather uncomfortable.
“That, I believe, is my responsibility,” spoke another voice quietly. Shivers running down his spine, the boy spun around. He saw a figure several yards off, but the darkness hid his features. The Peverell brothers eyed the figure disdainfully, then reluctantly backed away.
“W-who are you?” quivered the boy.
The figure laughed bitterly. “That depends on whom you ask. Some would call me a hero, others a villain. I have spent many years fighting dark powers, though many have questioned my methods and hated me because of them. I was once the headmaster of Hogwarts, before being killed by one who had once trusted me.” At this, the figure stepped out of the shadows, revealing a narrow face, sallow-skinned and framed by greasy black hair. At the same time, a dazzling light appeared, revealing a lovely woman with dark red hair and almond-shaped green eyes--like the boy’s own. She looked strangely familiar. The sallow-skinned man turned toward her, with an expression of mingled anger and pain.
“Lily, you did not tell me I would be dealing with Potter. I will not do this again. Please find someone else! Wasn’t one lifetime of this enough?”
“Sev, this is important. It’s not just my decision; you know already that Dumbledore and Merlin himself have chosen you for this task, just as they chose him. Just as they chose me for my tasks.” The man looked down, but immediately looked back up hungrily.
“But . . . how can I? Don’t you understand? He represents the passing of everything I’ve ever wanted!” He paused, as though he wanted to say more, but dared not go on.
The red-haired woman spoke gently, but firmly. “Severus, the boy is still mine. He needs direction, and I am unable to stay in this place to give it to him. He needs it from you. I trust that you will guide him in the right. Give him a chance, Sev--please! He may prove to have a better soul than you think.”
Turning to the boy, she said, “My son, you have been brought here to see the world of your parents and grandparents. It was a world where evil reigned and held all its inhabitants in bondage. You are in the house of Gryffindor not because you have inherited it, but because you have chosen it. Take courage now, for this will not be your fate, as long as you are brave enough to fight against the evil that could make it so. Professor Snape will guide you, and you will come out safely.” With these words, she disappeared.
Staring up at the man in bewilderment, the boy stammered, “P-professor Snape? My name is Albus Severus Potter.”
At the boy’s name, Snape turned sharply--almost as though he were caught off guard--and gazed intently into the boy’s green, almond-shaped eyes. Eyes just like the boy’s beautiful grandmother’s. For a tiny fraction of a second, Snape’s expression softened, but then he regained his resolve.
“Potter, follow me. We wouldn’t want you getting lost down here, would we?” He gave a sardonic smile, then turned. Robes billowing behind him, Snape strode out of the alley and up the street.
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