Chapter 10 - The Black Book

A/N: Black lives matter. It's a simple concept but the prejudice and discrimination in society is ingrained and often camouflaged, meaning we all have to think and work hard to create change.

2025 Edit: Sorry about the chonky paragraphs. I decided I don't wanna edit them and lose the in-line comments. I improve at paragraphing later on (tho tbh still not entirely sure what I'm doing lol)

*

Something about the spell Snape had cast on Asha's leg that evening, or perhaps the wandless magic she had accidentally performed, had worn her out. She and the Potions Master had sat on the porch in silence until the sky was full of glittering stars. Asha had a sneaking suspicion he had just wanted to keep an eye on her to ensure she didn't do anything else stupid.

When eventually she could no longer keep her eyes open, she mumbled, "Goodnight," and wandered off to the spare room where she had left her trunk. As she lay back stiffly on the bed, staying on top of the covers, she wondered whether Snape was actually going to allow her to be out of his sight, or if in a few seconds he'd be sweeping through the door and telling her it was time to leave.

Next thing she knew, threads of golden morning light was streaming through the spare room window and a kettle was whistling from elsewhere in the house.

Still wearing her clothes from the previous night (to her annoyance, Snape had not offered to fix the large hole now occupying the side of her jeans), Asha hauled herself out of bed and warily made her way to the kitchen. Her head was cloudy from sleep.

Snape was sitting at the dining table, his face concealed behind this morning's copy of the Daily Profit. Asha, hands in pockets, stood awkwardly in the archway and made her presence known by clearing her throat.

"Yes," Snape drawled, not bothering to look up. She stubbornly waited for him to remove his face from the newspaper. Apparently, many solid hours of sleep had done well to return some of her usual fire.

Finally, he sighed and irritably dropped the paper into his lap, eyeing her with his usual cold expression. Asha had to bite back a smirk - she knew it was wrong to push his buttons, but it gave her a kick to exert any small amount of power over this usually omnipotent professor.

His expression was so a kin to the one he wore in Potions class, Asha was suddenly reminded of how odd and precarious her current situation was. But her utter discomfort for having somehow found herself in Professor Snape's house was completely overshadowed by her raw fear of returning to the Foster Home. Her stomach turned sideways. Snape could send her back there at any moment. Truth be told, the fact he hadn't yet done so was, quite frankly, an inconceivable miracle.

"Could I please use your shower?" Asha asked tentatively.

Snape grunted in assent and returned to the Daily Profit, waving his hand lazily which caused the bathroom door on her right to swing open.

Severus didn't quite know why he was continuing to hold Winters here. His initial apparition of her had been the result of an intrusive stab of empathy for her predicament - though he still had very little understanding of what that was, but he had a few guesses.

The real problem was that Severus hadn't quite decided what to do with her yet. He hadn't decided whether or not to involve Albus, or whether there were any options other than forcing her home. He was also highly aware of his own apparent irrationality - why was he so hesitant to send her away? The dramas of a fourteen-year-old girl's home life were nothing that concerned him. But Severus knew himself to have keen instincts, and he trusted them.

From the moment he had witness her that night, completely alone at the edge of the Black Lake, so at odds with the character she usually donned and wore around the school, he found himself distinctly apprehensive about her. And his curiosity had only grown as he'd discovered her advanced, yet secret, magical abilities. Then there was the Boggart. There was her unexplainable interest in Slytherin Lineage. And now, after all of that, he had been presented with a suddenly pale-faced little girl pleading not to be sent home. Who ever this was didn't seem like Winters at all. Well, not like any version of her he had been able to piece together.

Severus had theorised before that Albus was withholding abnormal information about his perfect little Hufflepuff. Even the last few hours with her had deepened his suspicions. Asha Winters was clever when it came to concealing her true nature and capabilities, but not clever enough. Especially in her unexpectedly unstable state, she was letting slip little pieces of herself that she wouldn't usually reveal.

So for the present moment, it was almost like Severus was keeping her here for observation, like she was the subject of his own little investigation. Albus orchestrated countless of these large scale games. Why couldn't Severus indulge in a little one of his own, just for a few more hours.

*

After her shower, Asha pulled on a pair of secondhand cargo pants and a fitted black T-shirt. She instinctively went to dry her hair with her wand before remembering magic was off-limits and instead manually bundled it up into a damp mess on top of her head. She then opened her window and inhaled the fresh country air. The desire to use magic was bubbling within her and she needed a distraction. She wanted to ask Snape if she could go for a walk around the village but didn't want to provoke him into sending her away sooner than she could help it. Plus, she had a strong premonition that the answer would be no.

Instead, she pulled the third year herbology textbook out of her trunk and settled herself in the frame of the window, one leg dangling off the outside ledge. This was the only one of her textbooks she hadn't read in its entirety. She had been very interested in the sections on identifying magical flora and their properties and uses, however that only made up one-third of the book. The rest was all focused on growing the plants - their lifecycle, cultivation methods, required environmental conditions, etcetera. Asha found this information exceedingly dull, and as a result, had not done very well in that section of the class.

Half an hour later, after accidentally re-reading the same paragraph about five times, Asha threw the book aside in defeat. She hopped down from the window and began pacing the room. She was itching to pick up her wand, which lay tempting her on the oak dresser. Of course, she had experienced the urge to do magic during previous holidays, but nothing this severe. This year she had spent any free moment absent-mindedly transfiguring quills, casting various charms on books or firing hexes into thin air. Now, it was like her whole body was yearning for the flow of magic, craving the satisfaction of control and manipulation. The pacing seemed to be helping though. Maybe she'd eventually tire herself out...

"Do you plan on stomping back and forth all afternoon?" growled a voice from the doorway. Having been staring determinately at her own feet to avoid looking at her wand, Asha hadn't even noticed Snape appear. "I am trying to work and it's rather difficult when it sounds like a Hippogriff is rampaging through my house!" He had his arms crossed and was leaning against the door frame, staring daggers.

"Sorry," Asha mumbled and sat on the bed. But, a second later, she shot back up again and resumed pacing, fidgeting with her hands now too. "I can't stop - I've got this... sort of itch... to do magic. It's like I'm an addict with withdrawal symptoms. I need to distract myself". A troubled look flashed across Snape's face so fast Asha wondered if she had seen it at all.

"Perhaps returning to your Foster Home will provide an adequate distraction," he quipped cooly. Asha's chest lurched and she stared at him. Perhaps he saw a hint of fear on her face because he sighed and said, "Fine. You may select some books to read".

He led her into the living room.

"You may choose from this shelf only. Nothing from over there." He indicated the shelf that housed the mysterious, snake-embossed book.

"Why not?" Asha questioned before she could stop herself.

"Because I said so," he said, his tone razor-sharp, "think of it as the restricted section of the library. Though, as I recall, you don't have much respect for those rules either." She had the decency to blush. He scowled. "So much as touch one of those books and you'll be out on the streets before you can say Quidditch!" Snape ignored her look of pained curiosity at the forbidden shelf and returned to where he was working at the dining table.

Feeling her longing to do magic returning, Asha turned her attention to the books she was permitted to touch. This selection looked disappointingly similar to what was offered at the Hogwarts library. She ran her figure along the waist-high shelf and picked out a book at random. Incantations of the Early 17th Century. She flicked through the book, saw it was filled with spells that she would be desperate to try out, and immediately put it back. Instead, she grabbed a brown, leather book with a gold embossed dragon on the spine from the top shelf.

She thought about returning to her room, but, as much as she didn't want to admit it, something about being able to sense Snape's presence in the dining room made her feel grounded. Despite his aloof manner, being close to him somehow made her feel more secure and guarded against her inner demons. Revolted by the idea she was becoming the slightest bit reliant on another human, she pushed the thought from her mind. On a totally unrelated note, she still decided to sit on the couch rather than return to her room.

For the remainder of that morning, Asha sat reading about different species of dragons and listening to the comforting sounds of the scratching of Snape's quill, the shuffling of parchment and the occasional clinking of jars coming from the dining room. At around mid-day, Snape came striding into the living room where Asha was curled up on the couch and donned his cloak.

"I've got some errands to run," he said, "Do not, under any circumstances, leave this house."

"So you're saying, even if a swarm of demen-"

Snape cut her off by slamming the front door. Without thinking, Asha's eyes immediately swung to the black, snake-stamped book on the off-limits shelf. Don't be stupid, he's opened his home to you! And strange as that is, you're more grateful than he could know. Why don't you at least repay him with a little respect!, said the sensible voice in her head. It'll just be a little peak! Besides, what he doesn't know can't hurt him, said a more convincing voice. Asha jumped up, discarding Dragons - Beautiful and Dangerous by Edwardus Lima on the couch, and cast a nervous look at the front door. Snape had definitely disapparated, hadn't he? She hadn't listened for the crack. After a few seconds of standing, frozen in place like a cat waiting to pounce, she closed the distance between her and the bookshelf and pulled the dark tome from between its similarly worn and ancient-looking peers. It was heavy and the leather of the blank front cover was faded and cracked. Feeling a rush of excitement, Asha dropped down onto the deep green rug and opened the book to the first page.

A COMPENDIUM OF THE DARKEST ARTS

Asha's heart was beating hard in her chest. What was the Hogwarts Potions professor doing with a book like this? She'd heard that Snape had always wanted the DADA job over potions, but Defence Against the Dark Arts was very different to the Dark Arts themselves. Asha had always had a secret fascination for Dark Magic - not because of the horrific, inhumane things it was capable of, but because it pushed the limits of magic itself, and was always evolving.

Asha turned to a random page and began reading:

...another form of Black Magic is Siphoning, in which another's energy can be taken by force and affixed to the sorcerer's own entity, thus extending the limit of sole magical power...

Asha was immediately engrossed. She couldn't pull her eyes away from the page. The book felt as if it had a presence, a presence Asha was innately drawn to, just as she'd been drawn to it the moment she stepped through the door yesterday. It was alluring because of it's forbidden territory. It was sickeningly fascinating. Just one more page...

... often incorrectly associated with the Imperius Curse, Voodoo is a form of control over a being by the application of a physical force on the body, rather than control of the mind...

She found herself both repulsed and unable to look away. The more she read, the more her expectations of what magic was capable of were transcended. This next page would definitely be the last one...

...few wizards have achieved true Necromancy. The summoning of spirits is extremely unstable and dangerous; generating and maintaining a split in the skin between realms immensely drains one's energy source and if done passed capacity can lead to disintegration of the soul...

This book was definitely not Ministry approved. How had Snape got hold of such a thing? Was he, unbeknownst to Dumbledore, a sick, sadistic dark wizard? Or did he feel the same way she felt - entranced by the unexplored and unfathomable potential of magic?

... to successfully cause the suffering of others through ritualistic use of Verum Afflictionem, one must inflict an equal or greater amount of pain on one's self. Only then will the victims' agony be true, as a pertinent price has been paid...

Something moved in Asha's peripheral vision but she hardly registered it. Suddenly a black, leather boot landed on the royal green rug, an inch in front of the dark tome. It sliced through Asha's hypnotic state and she jumped so violently that she banged her elbow on the corner of the bookshelf and yelped. Why had she not heard the front door open!?

The room was considerably darker than she remembered it. How could it be dusk already!? Asha slowly moved her gaze up from the laced boots; the dark trousers, the fitted buttoned coat, the cloak draped over one forearm, upturned collar... to the unreadable face of Severus Snape. She met his eyes. They were burning with an intensity Asha had never seen before. His impenetrable stare moved from her mortified face to the leather-bound book lying on the rug, open to a page containing a grotesque image depicting the corpse of an Inferius being merged with the body of a Muggle. Asha thought she was going to be sick. Shit, shit, shit what the fuck was she doing!? She'd really gone and revealed her sick, twisted self now. A third year Hufflepuff girl should not be avidly reading an illegal book about the Dark Arts, curses and Black Magic.

After what felt like an eternity of cowering in the shadow of Snape's motionless, looming figure, he finally took action. He crouched down, slid his long figures under the cover of the book, and slammed it shut, making Asha jump for a second time. He grasped the spine of the book and slid it towards him. His face now inches from her own, Asha forced herself to look at him and tried to gauge what he was thinking; the level of rage he was somehow suppressing. Something in his jet-black eyes sent a shiver down her spine.

He stood up, clutching the book in his left hand, and silently swept from the living room and out of sight, leaving a horrified, pale-faced Asha, still sitting on the floor. She let out a shaky breath, only now realising the racing of her heart. He was going to kick her out. She was going to be expelled. They were going to snap her wand. The regret was suffocating. There was nothing she could do to make this right. At that moment, she hated herself so completely. Why did she have to be her? She felt the terrible sensation of prickling behind her eyes.

It took a huge amount of effort to stand up; as if she had bones of lead. Asha took a deep breath, swallowed her emotions and walked numbly to the spare room.