I'm not JK, nor am I Terry Pratchett (that brilliant brilliant man) who I shamelessly stole ideas from.

Colloquialism alert: Hoik seems to be a very local term (possibly a family term). When I use it I mean to carry/ pull/ lift. E.g.: "hoik it up". I couldn't find it in the dictionary or on slang websites but I have been assured that I haven't made up the term by my fella who also uses it.

Also lots of people can't understand why the Snape's don't use magic to make their life better. Short version- Gamp's Law. There is a longer version but meh... its my brain.

Chapter 15- Magpies

In all honesty I hadn't realised I was able to now contact my friends. Hogwarts, being a boarding school, had much longer holidays than most public schools and as I was still trudging to and from lessons it hadn't occurred to me that they had broken up for the Winter.

The letter from Jack was very friendly but it was short and seemed stilted and I had to swallow my disappointment. I sat for an age on the edge of my bed, thinking how best to respond, and indeed, what to write it on. I disliked using the supplies from my Hogwarts Trunk. Not least because we had to purchase and replace all of those, whereas the school currently provided my work books for free. With the current financial situation it seemed foolish to use up what I might need in the future. In the end I carefully extracted the middle pages from my exercise book. I couldn't take many because the teachers stalwartly guarded the stationary cupboard and would check to see that you hadn't misused your book when you requested another. If they thought you had, then it was a less than pleasant trip to the headmasters office. I had enough of those, without incurring more.

As I didn't have the luxury of trial and error I wrote in pencil. It meant I had to trace over the writing again in ink and then rub out the pencil. It resulted in the writing looking strangely thin, but at least this way the letter wouldn't be full of crossings out. It took me the best part of an evening to write. I had enough gumption to realise that I'd have to take the initiative and set the tone for the letters if I wanted any hope of our friendship to continue. I hate to think what trite sentiments I wrote, and no doubt I would cringe to read it now. But it was honest and remorseful and covered the most salient points; I apologised for being such a bloody silly twat and begged his forgiveness.

My stomach was full of knots until I heard back. Jack, true to form, waved away the fact I nearly embroiled him in my doomed scheme and insisted there was nothing to forgive. I truly can't emphasize enough what a good friend Jack was and still is truth be told. He has stuck by me through thick and thin. I don't think there is anything that man could do that would cause me to break from him. Anyway, there was a fairly constant toing and froing of letters from Jack and the others until radio silence was enforced by their return to school. It helped ease the heartache I hadn't realised was so suffocating and lifted some of my black mood.

It was unfortunate that the phone had been cut off early on in the financial troubles. I would have given anything just to hear a friendly voice. If it hadn't have been for my trunk slowly gathering dust I could almost make myself believe I had made the whole magical world up, so complete was my exodus.

The one thing that stuck in my caw was that I didn't see hide nor hair of Lily, despite her living a hop, skip and jump away. I waited in vain by our old spot in the park, blowing on frozen fingers and stamping my feet, shooting hopeful glances at every passer by. After a couple of days I strode to her street, but I only got as far as the end. I'm not sure why I didn't knock on her door. Fear I'd be unwelcome I suppose. Perhaps she had the same reservations about knocking on my door, but at the time I wasn't that generous and turned away feeling bitter. Either way things were never the same after that Christmas and our friendship withered until we were merely acquaintances who'd mutter a vague good morning at each other and then died out altogether. We had been drifting apart more and more anyway, despite being in the same social circle, so perhaps it was inevitable. We were very different people, only thrown together by circumstance and geographical location which was never going to be enough to make a lasting friendship. I think that one of us would have eventually had to sacrifice some part of our beliefs, if only in a little way, and that would only caused resentment in the end. We certainly took very different paths in life.

Christmas day went largely unmarked in the Snape household that year. I knew that Mam didn't have anything special lined up for dinner and had decided early on that I didn't want to be around for the inevitable fall out of Pa getting pissed and Mam snipping 'til he blew his top. I think I had the better day if truth be told.

Before I'd been collared by the Truant Officer I'd often go on long walks in an effort to keep out of Ma and Pa's way. It was on one of these days that I saw a tiding of Magpies flying and I had an inexplicable urge to follow them. I soon lost them but nevertheless I went in the direction they were headed, wading through muddy fields and an icy brook. I can't tell you why I persevered for so long, particularly as I knew the row my filthy trousers and soaked shoes would cause, except that I had a strange urge. The same sort of feeling that told me when Pa was in a bad mood and to keep low. I'd learnt not to ignore those sort of compulsions.

The pulling feeling stopped as I came by an overgrown gnarled oak tree in a little dell. As I explored I fell over some stones that I discovered later had been part of a dwelling. I felt a calmness there and I found I itched to return to it if I stayed away for more than a few days. I must admit I didn't question this feeling too deeply, assuming it was a natural result of wanting to get out of a tense household but this was the day I found there was more to it than that.

I woke up at day break and proceeded to scrounge the house for anything that would make my day more pleasant. I didn't fancy spending the day with with wet or cold feet depending on if I took my shoes off or not when I crossed the stream so I nicked Pa's boots. It was a calculated risk. Pa had no-where to be and was unlikely to leave the house in which case he wouldn't know. If he did... well, I figured it was worth the beating. With that in mind I also nicked his head torch and knapsack. The dell was two hours away even if I cycled where I could and the risk of me coming home in the dark was likely. This wasn't an army exercise and there was no reason for me to spend the day shivering and starving. In the bag went a hunk of stale bread and a flask of black tea. I had learnt to deal with the bitterness as we were rationing the milk.

While I was rolling up the blanket off my bed and putting on a second jumper I decided on a whim to take my charms book. I had been neglecting my magical theory in favour of swotting up on my muggle education. In all honesty this wasn't really a choice. I was only just keeping my head above water at school and there were only so many detentions I could get before Pa started to get... heavy handed. Nothing too bad. Usually only my ears boxed or a cuff. What bothered me more were the dark looks and frosty words. I'd listened to enough lectures to know that he saw the detentions as me not taking school seriously enough, which was the last straw for him seeing as I had narrowly escaped expulsion from Hogwarts. We both doubted my ability to keep my nose clean until I graduated, so me doing well at the local comprehensive was a must.

I hadn't given much thought as to how to get out the house but in the end the front door seemed like the most sensible option. Shuffling along the floor boards to stop them from squeaking I eased the door open until I could just about squeeze through. Luckily it was too early for the neighbours to be up. Even I knew I looked a sight with Pa's boots tied together by their laces round my neck, rucksack bulging with my blanket strapped on.

As I rode the gentle rhythmic thumping of the boots against my chest and the sound of birdsong filled me with exhilaration. Drawing the cold air deep into my lungs I road as fast as I could, laughing to myself in joy. I ignored the way my teeth rattled as I rode over the brick hump-backed canal bridge. I would have to look for a handy covering to hide my bike as it was too heavy for me to hoik along, particularly as I would be trespassing. Sliding it down a bank I hid it in some overgrown hedges covered in ivy and marked it with a few stones. Then I walked on looking out for the magpies which always marked the route.

I always seemed to go a different way and once when I tried to get there just looking out for the markers I got terribly lost. I heard the raspy chatter before I saw them. With a muttered "hello Jack, how's your brother" I got on my knees in the dirt and shoved my bag through the gap in the undergrowth and wriggled through on my belly.

I never had to walk far before I heard or saw them, standing like sentinels in the trees. With a whoop and a cry I raced them to the next marker until we got to the brook. For some reason I always seemed to have to cross running water. From the brook it was a brisk half hour stomp to the clearing and I knew the way well enough as they always seemed to lead me to the same crossing place.

When I got the the dell I noticed an unusually large gathering of magpies and stopped to observe them at the edge of the clearing. They had never bothered me before, and I was used to them flitting around, sometimes coming within touching distance, but they had never sat so still and watchful before. Now I will confess that I had conflicting ideas about magpies. Pa had brought me up with the usual superstitions and rhymes, hence the greeting when I first saw them. But Ma had taught me to respect the Old Ways which said they were portents of the future, to be blessed and nurtured. Even so I often found myself humming the rhymes and counting them.

I'd come to far to be scared off by the birds so I set about collecting tinder and kindling and making the fire, ignoring the odd feeling in my chest and the hairs standing up on the back of my neck. When I realised I'd forgotten the matches I let out an oath that caused some of the Magpies to fly into dull sky. I strode around the clearing idly kicking whatever was in my path until my bag went tumbling and I had to stop to pick up my book which had tumbled out. It was worse for wear and I had to pick up some pages that had scattered on the floor. I was so focused on this that I hadn't noticed a curious Magpie getting closer and closer until it had snatched a page and fluttered out of reach of my outstretched fingers. Each time I got closer it hopped just a little further away. I'd just about given it up when more flew down, perching beside their brother and picking at the moss on one of the stones.

Well this was certainly confusing behaviour. In the end I just sat and watched them, hoping they'd drop my page when they'd done. When the moss had been picked away it was possible to see some markings and I went closer to have a look. It which on further examination seemed to be daisy wheel. Well I must admit I soon forgot the page of my book an stared picking at the undergrowth to see if these markings were anywhere else. They were. In fact you couldn't move for apotropic marks or runes or ritual protection symbols. It was a puzzle. It wasn't uncommon to find these sort of marks on lintels or doorways and windows, that sort of thing, but not on this many stones. I couldn't fathom it. Had the person who lived here been very afraid of something coming to get them? Had they had reason to be that afraid? But it felt...safe, calm, almost tranquil here. The sort of feeling that you imagine you get in a church but don't because its too noisy and really its just a room full of people not being very reverent really. It was a mystery and one that I was happy to leave unsolved.

As interesting ferreting about in the undergrowth had been I wasn't any closer to solving my immediate problem of how to get warm. With nothing better to do and not wanting to think about going home and the potential thrashing I was due I started to flick through my charms book and got cocooned in my blanket. Theory is dull. It is even more dull if there is no one to talk to. I don't know how I was expected to learn without practical application and I started to tell the Magpies my woes. I didn't half get a shock when someone spoke!

Except what they said wasn't English. Not as such. What they said was "what is the valorous of all yond learning if 't be true thee can't coequal light a fire thee daft issue". This was my introduction to Alwyn. A four hundred year old spirit (not a ghost!) who had lived here and well and truly left her mark. It was very hard to understand what she was saying, especially as I couldn't at that point in time see her. I looked all over for a transparent glint, that tell tale flicker of a spectre hiding, much to her chortling amusement, to no avail. Wildlife is a good indicator of when to run if something is malevolent and as the Magpies seemed calm enough I stayed to find out what was talking to me.

Well... I'm very glad no one saw my attempt at communing with an invisible presence from the Middle ages. It was ridiculous. I understood about one word in ten, although she seemed to understand me. After half an hour of this I got thoroughly fed up. Well, my mouth ran away with me as usual and seemed she took offence! The bloody witch made the Magpie's fly at me. A flock of very pointy beaks aimed straight for my head. I ran, tripped on a tree root, fell arse over tit, closed my eyes, put my hands over my head and braced myself for some severe pecking.

It never came. Instead I heard her say "Thee young daw. The magpies weren't going to harm thee". Well I understood that, even if I didn't agree. Her only reply to my peeved question of how the hell did she know that was for her to reply that "they doth as I sayeth". I sat up but kept my eyes closed. I found that if I listened not so much to the words, but the intonation and the rhythm I had a better chance at understanding her.

Turns out that Alwyn had been a witch back in medieval era and had learnt her trade as many did back then by staying in a pretty place for a year with someone who knew the craft and then moving on to another and so forth until she knew enough to run her own steading. Of course this was in the middle of the witch hunts so she'd used as many rituals, wards and chants as she could think of to stay safe. In those days that meant blood and intent and payment, but more the excruciating pain kind, not the money kind. Stuff like that is, well, sticky... it doesn't really go away. She'd done so much of it that she'd left a sort of echo of her will, an imprint of her, but built of magic, with bits of her personality and knowledge attached. Even though she wasn't a ghost or spirit (from what I understood anyway) she was still sentient and could interact. I don't know if her personality had been so forceful in life that even an echo of her seemed vibrant, or if she actually had memory and thought and reasoning.

Alwyn did not get wands. She thought they were gimmicks and showy. A true witch I was informed, could scry with the dirty washing up water, and perform a ritual with whatever was in her pockets. To her magic was Magic with a capital M. It was the stuff to call up nightmares and heal the dying. It was about the knowing when not to use it, and when you did... what the balance was to be paid. Because there is always a price and sometimes the price is too high.

I had started to shiver before she instructed me how to light the fire. Without magic! It was hard and as much as I was grateful I half wanted to give up and go home, but I didn't and soon a merry crackle rewarded my efforts. I set-to my charms work then. Alwyn didn't half cackle. If she'd been alive I'm sure she'd have ruptured something.

The day passed between sips of bitter tea and stale bread and trying to fathom what Alwyn was saying (mostly scoffing). As the grey sky turned to the bluey-black of twilight I gathered my things and set out, counting ten magpies perched on a branch overhead. Between joyous bliss or the devil which would you choose?

Of course I got a rollicking when I got home, quiet as a mouse though I did creep. Pa'd waited up for me. I got double, of course, when he saw the state of his boots, dry though they were (thank Merlin- I hate to think what the state of my backside would have been if they'd been damaged). After getting a lecture about everything from going off and not leaving a note to taking what wasn't mine he hovered over me to make sure I put everything away properly. By the time I got my soggy boots out the bottom of the pack I just got a withering glance and told to stuff them with newspaper and put by the fire to dry out. I was so glad when I got sent to my room where I could sniffle in quiet. Crying still enraged Pa and I managed to keep in the hot wetness building behind my eyeballs but I knew a good sob would make me feel better. Ironic though that seems. Still, the trip had been worth it, sore as I was for the next few days.

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Over the coming months I spent a lot of time at the clearing with Alwyn. We didn't do anything particularly exciting. In fact, it was very, very mundane and not very magical at all. Until... well, until it was.

The language barrier was very frustrating for both of us. Some words were obvious and the same or very nearly as their modern day counterparts, but others... well! It was like learning a different language, which in retrospect I was. Alwyn would start with simple sentences or directions and then watch me fumble about, becoming increasingly amused or frustrated. Until we could communicate their was no way she could teach me any magic, which I hoped was her intention. Instead she taught me how to train the magpies and gave me a crash course in 'how to build a hovel for dummies'. For that I needed tools, and after explaining I was building a den (more or less true), Pa willingly lent me hammers, saws and nails. It also helped explain how mucky I was when I got home as I was generally covered in detritus or mud from shifting stones or hacking branches off trees. Of course it wasn't particularly water tight, or warm but it kept the worst of the elements away.

Pa noticed I was spending a lot of time out. Being relatively unoccupied himself meant that it was difficult to miss. I managed to fob him off for a while, but sneaking around just made me look more shifty. It came to a head one day when I was about to go out after school, having got changed out my uniform, when Pa blocked the door. I paused on the stairs, one leg still suspended mid-air. It wasn't a nice day, cold and blustery, the air heavy with moisture, but it wasn't the worst weather either, so I discounted concern for my health. Pa's expression was difficult to read. He wasn't radiating menace or ire, so I hadn't done anything to piss him off. He just sort of loomed, in a very definite, I'm looming and you can't get past sort of way. Not really knowing what else to do I walked to the bottom tread when he told me to go sit at the kitchen table.

If the kitchen table could talk I'm sure it would tell us to bugger off and leave it in peace, being fed up of our see-sawing emotions and dramas. Being sent to the kitchen meant that at least I wasn't getting a thrashing (those always happened in the lounge), but that nevertheless, I was in for A Serious Discussion. The sort that leave you with a swirling hollow stomach and a pounding head. The feeling of dread didn't get any better when I saw a sheet of A4 and a pencil next to it. With a muttered "bollocks" under my breath I slid into the chair that was obviously meant for me. I knew better than to be obtuse. Now I was starting to do all right in English and Chemistry and biology, other subjects like Geography and History just required a lot of reading and research, but I was good at that and had a good vocabulary so I was now middling as oppose to bottom in those subjects. However, maths and physics were something else altogether and I was utterly rubbish at them. I was unsurprised therefore to find a sheet crammed full of tiny equations and problems to solve. A beseeching glance at Pa showed I had absolutely no hope of escaping. He had ensconced himself at the other end of the table and his brows were starting to furrow. A sure sign of his shortening temper. I held in the sigh that desperately wanted to escape and set to work. It was bloody painful. As I struggled through, feeling the sweat gathering on my back between my shoulder blades and my forehead. Shifting in my seat to alleviate the butterflies that had taken up residence in my stomach I started to chew my pencil in the hope it would provide me with some inspiration. I was unwilling to look up, but I could sense Pa's patience coming to its end. I'd got about half way through. I didn't dare raise my head to look at Pa, instead I just swivelled the sheet round and sat back with a heavy thunk. I knew better than to leave the table while he marked it.

I was astonished to only get a withering glare and told that I would no longer be leaving the house until I had done an hours maths and physics work. Until he was sure I'd comply, and since he had the spare time, I would be watched. It was horrible but not the outright ban on going out that I had expected. At least this way Pa would be there to help in that way he had, which left you in no doubt that you were an utterly thick and slow cretin but nevertheless meant you understood it.

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Spring arrived, and the warmer weather and lighter nights brought more work for the menfolk even if it only brought in a pittance. Me and Ma went out foraging, the one thing that she was actually better at than Pa. With the dandelions we made beer and wine to sell at the markets and trade with the neighbours. Chickweed, wild garlic and nettles we turned into soups and salads. We even made perfume using violets. All in all we did better than some of the other families on the street and as we didn't get turfed out, presumably made enough to delay eviction if not escape it altogether.

Spring also marked progress with Alwyns extracurricular teachings. I hadn't realised that she'd been teaching me magic for the last few months, until she instructed me to make a poultice which was mostly mundane but needed intent and ritual to make it effective and to my astonishment I managed it. It shouldn't really have been a surprise. I mean we've only been using wands for the last couple of centuries. I've since stumbled across manuscripts or family journals that mention a conduit of some description which many assume means a wand but equally could have been anything meaningful and handy.

Until then we had been doing a lot of what basically amounted to housework and DIY, with bits of headology thrown in. It had all been very... quirky. When I was putting the house together she'd instructed me on the layout but I'd assumed that was structural. I really should have suspected something when I was told to firmly think about the placement of each stone and how it made the whole, particularly when what I now recognise as keystones were placed and washed with water from the brook, with the markings carved over and defined. Part of it was that complex or convoluted explanations were still beyond my ken and the other was that Alwyn tended to expect me to just work things out. In her day that was part of learning the trade so I gather, and you weren't worth your salt if you had to be told.

Of course Ma noticed. It was inevitable really. Alwyn had been teaching me the set up she used and we'd slowly been adapting it for what I found easier. It wasn't about just using it for potions either. The more you use your tools and set up, the more familiar it becomes and the better it will channel your magic. It wasn't just about that though. Alwyn always said the set up was important, but she had also said that in a pinch it didn't matter, what mattered was your will to want it to work.

At first Ma just gave me funny looks but then after a few times I got a cuff and told to stop it. I shrugged it off and turned back to scrubbing pots but I could tell she was thinking on it. I wasn't surprised a few days later when she and Pa sat me down at the kitchen table and I was told to spill. It was clear they thought I'd been doing something illicit on my little jaunts out and about. I didn't tell them about Alwyn but I cobbled together a concoction of truth and omissions and guesses which explained my new take on magic.

They were concerned to say the least, but what I was doing wasn't illegal by any stretch. I wasn't dabbling in blood magic and I wasn't trying to make my own wand or even a recognisable conduit, unless you counted my potions stirrer which even then was used as it was intended. Ma... well part of her was relieved I think. Magic build up can cause disastrous repercussions unless handled properly (something she had been briefed on after my expulsion unbeknown to me). I know she'd been expecting some sort of incident involving accidental magic and me slowly siphoning it off was preferable to that. It has the added bonus that she thought I could try my hand at some wandless magic and control techniques that she learnt as a child from her parents as a make do until she attended Hogwarts 6 years later.

Alwyn wasn't happy when I told her about that. She seemed to think it might interfere with my learning, for want of a better term, hedge magic. Luckily Ma came from an old family and so was more into feeling the magic and channelling it that way, which more closely aligned with Alwyns teachings than not.

It was a relief. I realised as much as I missed Hogwarts I didn't need it to become a wizard. Oh I wouldn't get any recognition and I'd be an outcast in their society (which I was anyway to a lesser degree, not so much from mum marrying a muggle but because she married down! An anathema to the high-born.) But that didn't matter. I hadn't chosen to become a wizard. It was just what I was. It was like being an elf or a centaur. If they broke my wand I was still magic. Don't get me wrong I still wanted to return to Hogwarts (home-life was proving to be harder than I'd thought) and I wanted to keep up with my peers but I had perspective now and that made me feel brighter.