Family Can Be Weird

The thrash of pain wakes me. It doesn't last long, but twists into every inch of my muscles; awakening them from their death sleep. My mind fizzles back to that room, gotta run, gotta hide. Even before my eyes tell my brain where I am, I flip over and scurry back slightly.

"Good. You're awake," the voice fights against the pounding of my heart for room in my head. Darting up, my gaze is filled with the familiar and unfamiliar. Within a second, I recognize the familiar, cobweb-filled, limestone walls of the third floor. Some deep part of my heart gleefully yells "I knew it!" as Quirrell twirls his wand between his fingers.

*Why am I here?* I sign, noticing my sack of a bag slung over his shoulder.

"I'm going to assume that was one of your annoying questions," he said darkly, with no hint of stuttering, as threw my notepad at me. Grabbing it, I move to draw my wand out of its holster.

"You think I'm daft enough to let you keep your wand?" Quirrell said slowly as he approached me. Kneeling, he snaps my mask off as I fight every urge to rip his throat out.

"Keep your distance Quirrell. Remember, she's half bloodsucker. Now get what you need from that halfbreed filth," A sunless voice pierces into my soul, and I don't mean metaphorically. It's as though the very essence of the speaker was entwined with dark magic. Even the very little Mana I have shook in fear at the memory of him.

Pain scrunched his face as he unnaturally jolted backward, "Yes Lord," his voice was still stronger than when he taught class, but the hints of the shake poked its head out. How? He's dead! He should be dead!

The sheer impossibility of his continued life fights back the fear, as Quirrell points his wand at me, "You looked at the shield charm around the stone and found something. I know because he can feel a difference in the spell. What is it!"

A puke yellow jolt of energy crackles out of the tip of his wand. The pure stream of Mana flowed through me and into my scars. The pain that persisted in my leg all day couldn't compare to now. Every scar that was birthed from Sectumsempra came alive. My arms, legs, torso, and the slash across my face, all grew burning hot as every pain I once was given threw itself at me.

The rune above my collarbone went to work muting my gasps for air as the hall grew dark. Ragged hair semi obstructs my vision as my heart rate steadies. If HE gets the stone, nothing would stop him. Looking up, my eyes pierced through the hair as they grew red in defiance. His sharp smile grew hot in anger.

He waited for a response that couldn't come. The puke yellow energy welled up again in the tip of his wand. I clamped my eyes shut and my body tensed itself in preparation for another wave of torture as the warped voice interrupted him, "She doesn't have a quill you incompetent stuttering fool."

Quirrell jumped slightly as his wand grew dim. Reaching into his robe, he threw my pen to me, "If being a halfbreed wasn't bad enough, she uses a muggle writing tool."

Grabbing my pen, my foul vocabulary spews forth onto the page. Fire ignites into his eyes as the voice drenched in black Mana calls out again, "As much as I would love to see that stain upon wizardkind writhe in pain again, you aren't a good enough torturer to do much. I have a different idea."

Quirrell's face freezes at his words. Not in fear, no that's not what's in his eyes, but rather his face freezes in a state so hollow that not even the dead can compete. I become aware of the space within my throat as his eyes roll back. A loud crack fills the dead hall as his elbow reverses itself. Unraveling the purple turban atop his head, the rest of his joint do the same. The cracking becomes more frequent as he turns around.

"I never understood why Lich didn't kill you right when you popped out," My eyes widen as the face of pure evil, the source of the voice, comments. Even in this weak, unnatural state, you'd have to be blind to not recognize the man responsible for the second wizard war. Anger mixes with my fear as I shakily get to my feet. His plan dawns on me as he raises Quirrell's wand. Lunging, my heightened vampiric speed is nothing against him.

"Legilimens!" Voldemort shouted. Ethereal tendrils of smokey black and white twist from the wand. Shooting out, they jab into my mind. Every corner of my mind comes alive with burning pain. I can feel Voldemort inside my mind, demanding every scrap of information on the shield.

"No!" I scream in a mute effort to stop him. Even as the rune activated to preemptively silence my voice, it was over. Only the throbbing remains as I collapse to the ground.

"But don't worry, I'll correct that mistake and put you where you belong, right next to the man who defiled her," I could only store his words as he walked up to me. Pointing down, the same red light once again fills my vision.

**Snape**

Warm early sunlight glows through the windows of the Hospital wing. With a knock, I make Potter and Dumbledore aware of my presence, pulling their attention away from each other.

"Sir. May I speak to you in private for a moment?" My voice carried a snap to it as my gaze lingers on Miss Ollivander, lying unconscious in the bed next to them. Was Ollivander involved in the incident? Why didn't Dumbledore inform me?

"Excuse me for a moment, Harry," Dumbledore says to Potter as he glides over to me. Shutting the door, Dumbledore couldn't quite hide his puzzlement as a small perplexed look slithers onto his face, "If this is about Quirrell, then I'm not one who's too prideful to admit when they were-"

"That's not it, sir," I cut him off, fearing I'm too late.

"Then what is it, Snape?"

"What happened to Ollivander?" I ask, the request I came for feeling momentarily unimportant.

The corners of Dumbledore's mouth slightly rise but fall to match the nature of the conversation. "Potter and his friends found her outside of Fluffy's room."

"Did those three hurt her?" Anger seeps out into my words.

"Although Weasley and Granger think she was helping Quirrell, Potter admits she was unconscious when they got there. Madam Pomfrey examined her and found her mind to be scrambled from a powerful Legilimency. We theorise Voldemort lured her there and attacked her mind for any secrets around the protections on the Philosopher's Stone. She's fine, just needs time to recover."

"Has the Philosopher's Stone been destroyed yet?" A dark look peered out of a corner of his blue eyes at the question I came to ask.

"Severus, why are you asking me that?" Shame poured from my dark mark as his eyes narrowed.

"I'm not asking for myself," Dumbledore's body relaxed slowly as my words got deciphered through his genius.