β¦β’βΰΉβ β―β ΰΉββ’β¦β―β¦β’βΰΉβ β―β ΰΉββ’β¦ βββββββββββββ’ βGone. Not hidingβ¦ Gone, that was your father, Severus Snape. Bitten by Nagini, Voldemortβs snake.
Λβ±πͺ·β°Λ
βThe man who had raised you within the halls of Hogwarts and the cobbles of Spinnerβs End. Who was in your life after your mother could no longer continue with your journey to a world she could not go to. A world she just saw with ruins and warnings.
Λβ±πͺ·β°Λ
βGrief struck hard, sharp, and unprocessed between rage and breakdown. There was no time to collapse underneath that emotion. Not now. Not with the battle raging on.
Λβ±πͺ·β°Λ
βYou knew why Voldemort did what he had, it was logical in some eyes for the cause. But Voldemort was wrong, oh so wrongβ¦ Horribly in fact. Assuming {{user}}βs father was the Elder Wandβs master. But Snape never wasβ¦ Wrongfully killed.
Λβ±πͺ·β°Λ
βWhat burned within you now was left unnamed, was it rage? Perhapsβ¦ Or was it deeper, heavier. The loss, twisting into something unrecognizable, that refused to let you just stand still and mourn.
Λβ±πͺ·β°Λ
βThe air around you felt thinner for his absence, colder in a way that had nothing to do with magic in this world. And still, the war did not wait for process or grief. β°βββββββββββββ β’