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A Seer Named Rosemary Snape by PlutoLovegood

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Story Notes:

When I began writing this story, in which a brother of Severus Snape is dying of cancer, I had no idea that in real life Alan Rickman was stricken with cancer, and the news of his death today (14 Jan 16) came as a great shock. Henceforth this humble story of mine is dedicated to the memory of Alan Sidney Patrick Rickman (21 February 1946 ��“ 14 January 2016). May his memory be for a blessing.

By way of a "Sneak Preview," here are my chapter titles, subject to revision, but I feel good about the story behind these titles:

1. A Timely Arrival
2. Many Revelations
3. The Muggle-born Princess
4. Professor Longbottom's Secret All-Purpose Blend
5. The Scene of the Crime
6. The New Normal
7. Rosie and Sparkles Do Diagon Alley
8. The Elf-Girl and the Headmaster
9. Wizard's Chess
10. The Black King
11. The Battle of the Bridge
12. The Great Hatstall
13. Checkmate

St. Magdalene's Hospice House
Guildford, Surrey
9:55 AM, Monday, 30 July, 2018

There were few things left for certain in Sylvester Snape's life, except that at age fifty-three he was dying of cancer. The rare sarcoma enmeshed in his lower spine had been caught too late for surgical removal. A lesser surgery to relieve pressure on his spine bought him two more years on his feet, but touching the cancer meant the risk that it may spread. Indeed, that spring the tumor had begun its final advance, aggressively coiling like a serpent through his body, cutting short his twenty-ninth year of teaching chemistry, and sending him to hospice care.

But his constant pain and impending death meant nothing to him compared with the future of his granddaughter Rosemary, or Rosie as he often called her, who now stayed with him in his hospice family suite, because neither had any other home to which to return.

Sylvester lay in his recliner, pondering Rosemary's future, reading and rereading a printout of the odd, unexpected email he had gotten earlier that month. A Professor Neville Longbottom was asking if he and his associate Harry Potter could come speak with him about a school especially for children like Rosemary, who had "certain special gifts and abilities." The thirtieth of July would work especially well, the email suggested, at the time of Mr. Snape’s best convenience. As Sylvester read and pondered the message, he occasionally gazed at Rosie’s drawings, which almost completely covered the wall which he faced.

Gifted she was indeed! Her charcoal drawings of fanciful scenes were astonishingly detailed, with a shimmering, lifelike quality that seemed on the edge of animation. A many-turreted castle dominated the wall; Rosemary had taped together several pieces of large posterboard to complete the scene. Various creatures from myth and legend surrounded the castle, and one of the clouds in the dusky sky above the castle looked like a luminous white doe in mid-leap. When people asked how she chose what to draw and how to draw it, Rosemary Snape simply said "I just see cool things in my mind all the time, and I draw them just as I see them."

Along the wall to Sylvester’s left sat Rosie’s futon, heaped high with assorted toy stuffed snakes. At the near end of her futon a real snake in a glass tank chose that moment to slither purposefully toward a newly thawed rat carcass; atop a dresser at the far end sat a bird cage with her well-behaved canary perched just outside the open door, chirping enthusiastically. Rosie’s cello lay on its side on the floor, with the case propped up in the corner. Above her futon were taped several magazine pages with photos of the current Dr. Who, as well as Benedict Cumberbatch, Richard Armitage, and some other much more boyish face whose name Sylvester could not recall, apparently the pre-teen heartthrob of the hour.

On Sylvester’s own side of the room he had a table to his right with a few odd pieces of old lab equipment, as well a small telescope aimed toward the door of the room’s small balcony. The ceiling was low on Sylvester’s side of the room, but it sloped steeply up towards Rosemary’s side. Sunlight streamed through a skylight window above the balcony door. St. Magdalene’s Hospice House occupied a spacious old manor on a country lane on the outskirts of Guildford, and Sylvester’s suite was on the top floor, comprising the south half of the building’s uppermost peak. A medium-sized bookshelf sat left of his recliner, mostly filled with old science books and journals, but atop the bookshelf, at Sylvester’s eye level, stood a row of family photographs, centered around a hinged photo frame with two panels. The left panel held an invitation to the wedding of Rosemary Jane Rickles and Sylvester Michael Snape, dated Sunday, the third of May, 1987. In the right panel a much younger Sylvester with jet black hair was dancing and laughing with Rosie Jane amongst blossoming crabapple trees. Rosie Jane’s flowing blonde hair was as pure white as her bridal gown. People had called them –the chess set couple” because they did, in fact, play chess rather often, but also because Sylvester’s hair was as black as Rosie Jane’s was white. In front of the double photo frame stood two chess pieces; the white queen and the black king.

Young Rosemary Snape was named for her grandmother, but the two had never met, as Rosemary Jane Rickles-Snape had met a shocking and unexplained death in early 1998, nine years before young Rosie was born. Rosie Jane’s death was neither the first nor the last of Sylvester’s griefs, but twenty years later it still cut the deepest.

Young Rosie and her drawings were now the brightest spot in Sylvester Snape's darkening world. In the midst of his long series of misfortunes, it hadn't escaped his notice that oddly helpful people had appeared before, rendering assistance at just the right time, but then disappearing. In a way Sylvester was not surprised to see this pattern repeat itself with Professor Longbottom’s email, but it was the first time ever that any of these strange benefactors had announced themselves ahead of time and planned to maintain contact, and this pleased Sylvester Snape very much. He hoped beyond hope that Professor Longbottom and Mr. Potter might not only present a suitable plan for Rosie’s education, but help him find some real answers to certain questions and mysteries that had plagued him his whole life. This is why he had asked that they come well before eleven, as that was when Rosie was expected back from a weekend celebrating her eleventh birthday with friends.

As the clock neared the stroke of ten, Sylvester Snape, who valued punctuality, was pleased to hear footsteps beginning to tramp up the stairs, and the familiar friendly chatter of volunteer Lakshmi Dasari, whom he had known for years. Sylvester was impressed with their timing, which was neither early nor late. They were arriving at his door at precisely ten o'clock, and having even one small thing in his life go so closely according to plan seemed a rare pleasure and a promising beginning. But he would take care not to seem too overly impressed, at least not right away.

Sylvester chuckled as he heard Lakshmi’s familiar blue streak growing ever clearer as she led the two men up the stairs. She was never at a loss for words when introducing visitors to patients, and as the trio neared the door to his suite, Sylvester wondered how Professor Longbottom and Mr. Potter were holding up. He had been smiling, even grinning at the thought, but he abruptly put on a politely grave expression as soon as Lakshmi knocked on the door.
Chapter Endnotes: I appreciate the enthusiastic and constructive feedback I've received thus far. I intend to complete at least one chapter per month, and as a sneak preview I will simply say that the title of Chapter Two is "Many Revelations."