Chapter 2

It was a particularly hot summer. One afternoon, I darted out of the house, ready to join in a childish water balloon fight. As I passed a low wall near the small park, I spotted an odd-looking boy.

He was about my age, wearing a long-sleeved pullover that seemed too big for him, making him appear even skinnier. The shirt's hem hung down to his thighs. His hair was uneven, as if it hadn't been properly cut and fell to his shoulders.

He watched the children playing nearby with a look of longing in his eyes.

"Want to join us?" I asked, stepping in front of him and brushing the hair out of his eyes.

"I... I'm not..." He seemed startled and hesitant yet eager.

Without another word, I grabbed his arm and ran towards the other kids.

"We've got another player!" I shouted to them.

They turned to look, first at me, then at him. A boy named John stepped forward. "He's a freak. He can't join us."

I glanced at the so-called freak, whose eyes now held a hint of hurt, quickly replaced by a guarded look.

"I don't think he's weird. If you don't let him play, I won't either. And don't expect me to help any team that needs an extra player in the future," I said. It was a small trade, just a bunch of kids after all.

In the end, I dragged the boy into the game. As the game progressed, I finally understood why they called him a "freak."

About ten minutes in, a water balloon aimed at him suddenly changed direction mid-air and splashed onto a boy who had been laughing at him.

The boy looked at him in terror. "Monster!" he cried, and ran away, dripping wet.

The other kids saw the strange incident too. Before scattering in fear, they pelted him with their water balloons, not sparing me either.

He stood there with his head down, body tense, ready to flee.

I wiped the water from my face. "Refreshing…"

He looked up sharply.

"How did you do that? It was amazing!" I asked, curiosity and excitement in my voice.

He looked confused.

"That thing with the balloon! How did you make it dodge you?"

"I... It just dodged…" he stammered.

"Can you teach me?" I pressed.

"It's a power I was born with…"

"A superpower?"

"What's a superpower?"

"Uh, never mind." I quickly changed the subject. "I'm Sawyer Hill. You can call me Sawyer." I extended my hand.

He seemed a bit nervous but took my hand. "Severus. Severus Snape."

Shaking his hand, I smiled. "Nice to meet you, Severus. I live at 23 Spinner's End. Is your house far from here?"

"I live at the last house on Spinner's End," he said, still a bit tense.

I grinned. "Then let's walk together. We can play together more often!"

Severus walked beside me, his head down, lost in thought. Then he asked, "Aren't you afraid of me? I have strange powers."

I shook my head nonchalantly. "What's there to be afraid of? You won't use them to hurt me, right?"

He shook his head firmly. "Never!"

"See? You were born with this amazing power. That's incredible."

Severus looked at me, then lowered his head again, silent.

We walked along a winding path by a river, past a tall chimney of a mill. The narrow cobblestone lane led to rows of ordinary brick houses. Spinner's End was just beyond.

"Can you do other amazing things with your power?" I asked curiously.

Severus paused, then answered, "There are many things... I'm a wizard."

"A wizard?" I asked, eyes wide.

He seemed to brace for my disbelief. "You don't believe me? Do you think I'm a freak too?"

"No, maybe just very special," I said. "I've never heard of or seen anything like it, except in fairy tales."

He seemed surprised by my reaction. Before he could say more, I asked, "Tell me about it. About being a wizard."

Severus hesitated, then began to describe a magical world, one hidden among ordinary people.

I learned that this world was different from the one I knew. There was a hidden magical realm. Maybe it existed in my previous life too, but I had never encountered it. Although Severus was only five, his words were convincing.

I had seen the mysterious powers with my own eyes. Later, at my insistence, Severus demonstrated more. These were truly supernatural abilities. Magic explained them perfectly.

After experiencing reincarnation, accepting the unexplainable came naturally.

We reached my house. "I'm home! I'll come to see you tomorrow. Tell me more about magic, okay? It's fascinating."

Severus nodded, and we bid each other farewell.

Inside, I told my mom about my new friend, Severus Snape, who lived at the end of the lane.

Mom thought for a moment. "The Snape family, I know them. His father is a drunk, and the household isn't peaceful. Is the boy alright?"

"That explains it," I said.

"He doesn't look well. No wonder he's so thin and pale. And he seems lonely. He doesn't have any other friends. Mom, can I invite him over often?"

Such a household wasn't good for a child's growth. Coupled with being ostracized for his peculiarities, he'd likely grow up cold and solitary. Poor kid.

"Of course," Mom said, gently patting my short hair. "Dinner is a while off. Why don't you go through those books and pick some to recommend to him when he comes over?"

"Okay, Mom."

The next morning, I went to Severus's house and knocked. A gaunt, sallow woman with a gloomy expression opened the door.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Good morning, ma'am. Is Severus home?"

She scrutinized me for a moment, then stepped aside. I thanked her and entered.

The house was dim, poorly lit, with heavy curtains drawn tight. The dining table held used plates, and the whole place felt dreary.

Severus came down the creaky stairs, looking surprised to see me. He approached, his eyes questioning why I was there.

"I told you yesterday, I'd come to see you today, didn't I?" I said, turning to the woman. "Mrs. Snape, can Severus come out to play with me? I promise to bring him back by lunch."

Mrs. Snape looked at Severus. I felt his arm tense.

"Alright. Be back before your father returns," she said.

Severus seemed surprised but nodded obediently. "I will, Mum."

Thanking her, I led Severus out and headed towards my house.

As we walked, I talked about our plans for the day—chatting about the magical world, reading books, and playing in the park after lunch.

Suddenly, he interrupted, "Why? Why are you doing this—chatting, lunch… all of it?"

"Because we're friends, right?" I asked. "Isn't that what friends do?"

He looked at me with a mix of hope and confusion. "Friends… I guess so. I've never had a friend before."

I suppressed my sympathy. Kids like him were sensitive. Pity would only push him away.

"Then I'm your first friend!" I declared, beaming. "Isn't that special?"

Severus's face softened into a small smile, touched by my cheerfulness.

Making friends with kids required being childlike. Exaggerated words, lively actions—these suited a cheerful, positive child. No one could guess my six-year-old facade hid a twenty-one-year-old mind. Adapting wasn't childish, it was survival.

And so, I made a friend, a five-year-old boy, who became my best friend.