The cold winter air nipped at Severus Snape’s face as he trudged through the desolate streets of Cokeworth. Spinner's End was as dreary as ever, the chimney smoke mixing with the pale fog, muffling the faint sounds of life that occasionally drifted from the muggle neighborhood. His long black cloak swept over the icy pavement, his mind lost in a vortex of bitter memories and distant regrets.

The war was over, yet the scars it left behind lingered in every crack and shadow of the world he inhabited. Hogwarts had been rebuilt, its halls echoing once more with the laughter and chatter of students, but Severus carried the weight of the past like an iron chain. He had survived—but survival was not synonymous with peace.

As he walked, he let his mind wander, the monotony of the snow-crunched steps offering a strange solace. Then it happened.

He collided with someone, a sudden jolt snapping him from his thoughts. Severus stumbled slightly, his hand instinctively reaching out to steady himself. A soft gasp escaped the boy he had bumped into, no older than fourteen, his lanky frame bundled up in a worn coat. Both figures froze for a moment, the only sound the whisper of the cold wind and the muffled crunch of snow beneath their boots.

Severus’s wand slipped from his hand and fell to the ground with a dull thud, its dark wood stark against the white snow. The boy, startled, stepped back—unfortunately right onto the wand. A faint cracking sound echoed, sharp and almost inaudible, but enough to make Severus’s jaw tighten.

Severus exhaled sharply, crouching down to retrieve the wand. As his long fingers brushed the snow, he examined it. A thin fracture ran along the polished wood, not catastrophic, but enough to make his pulse quicken in irritation.