Tomorrow is another day

This is a SI fanfiction. Perhaps it is not your cup of tea, but I can reassure you that the character is not op, there is no harem and he has some character flaws. I would invite you to give this little story a chance. In this fic I will try to depict the wizarding world in the most realist way possible. The character will not suddenly gain a harem, he will not find some transform in one night in an all-powerful magic user and the world isn't going to suddenly betray him.

Now I am sorry for the quality of my English. It is not my first language. I am a French speaker. I am writing this to try to improve myself so there will probably be some cringe worthy mistake. If someone would like to give me a hand for the grammar or structure, it would be appreciated. I am in the need of a beta.

Flame will be ignored. If you want to criticize, I am always open for improvement, but make it constructive.

What is there after death?

If there is one question I never expected to be able to answer one day, it would probably be that one. Well, along with does God exist and why did the American ever think that Donald Trump could be a good president?

But as I stood in the old dilapidated room looking through the window as the blizzard raged outside, I suddenly knew the answer to that question. I was reincarnated.

The first shade of consciousness appeared somewhere along my third year of life. But even then, I remember of those times only fragments of memories. Thankfully, I do not have any memories of my life before that point. Prideful as I am, the feeling of dependency, the sheer boredom and the inability to control my own bodily function would have turned me insane quite fast which would have been troublesome since I'm not a bastion of sanity and normalcy to begin with.

If I had to pinpoint when I became in possession of my full memories, I would say my fifth birthday. The reason for that would become clear only nearly two decades later after going through a particularly interesting book written by an Austrian wizard about the soul and the development of the wizard magic. Wizards and witches have seven major stages of development as far as their magic in concerned.

The first happens at 3 years old and consist of the stabilisation of the magical core. With this comes the appearance of magical gift. As an example, metamorphomagus unlock their ability to shapeshift in their third year of life. At that point, accidental magic become more concrete in their effect. Before that, accidental magic manifest mostly in random blast and surge of magical power when a child is unhappy. Sometime, if the child is particularly powerful, they can attract or repulse light object, but it is, overall, fairly rare.

Attracting an object before 3 years old is considered the sign of a powerful child.

While most of the wizarding aristocrats like to pretend that their children have performed such a feat, most of them are naught but boasts.

As the core solidify, it starts to merge with the body, creating magical channel through which magic will be carried. Slowly, the body starts to assimilate the magic.

The period between the first and the second maturation, at 5 years old, is a moment where accidental magic is the most frequent. The magic, while present, is not yet synchronised with the body resulting in accidentals releases.

Somewhere around the fifth birthday of the child, the body completely assimilate the magic into itself and the brain starts to take a control on the core and magical channels.

Contrarily to the belief of many, memories are not only stored in the physical brain. They are also stored in the soul which explains why horcruxes and wraiths are able to keep their memories when they find a body. It also explains why ghost have a personality. Since the brain and the soul are connected, information can be exchanged, the magic acting as the vessel for the information.

But all those technical details where the furthest thing from my mind when I realized my new status.

The day I realized that I was alive again was the 9 January 1965. It was an occasion that would stay etched in my memory forever in excruciating details. It is also the moment where I realized how unenviable my situation was.

I was awoken by the light of the sun filtering through the cheap white curtains hanging in front of the window. As soon as I woke up, I could tell something was off, but I could not pinpoint what.

I lifted my head from the pillow to stare blearily at the room I was in. The room was small. The walls of the room were painted white and, in several places, the paint was peeling revealing the material underneath and making ugly larges grey spots on the wall. My bed was on the opposite side to the door. The door itself was showing age. The clearly used round handle was filled with scratch and the door, while in better condition than the wall, had seen better days. Against the wall at the right of the door was a wooden chest drawer with 3 rows of double drawers. The room brought an oddly paradoxical feeling as if it was exactly as it was supposed to be, but, at the same time, completely wrong.

I let out a small tired sight and rested my head once again on the pillow, eyes closed and decided to get a few more minutes of sleep.

The sound of the door groaning prompted me to open my eyes again. Head on the pillow, I stared at the head of the woman peeking through the door. When she saw that I was awake, she opened the door further and entered in the room. She walked to my bed and kneeled in front of me with a kind but tired smile.

As I looked at her, an unexpected feeling of affection welled up in my chest.

She was a not a beautiful woman but she was not ugly either. She was a tall with a thin wiry frame. Her brown eyes seemed sunken or at least that is what the prominent bags under her eyes made it look like. Her face was slightly wrinkled, as if time had dug trenches in its battle with her mortality. It wasn't beautiful wrinkles either. Not born of laughter or time, but more of worry and the toughness of life.

However, as I stared at her face, I could see the shadow of her beauty with a sharp nose and jawline. Her brown eyes had probably been beautiful in her youth lighted up with fire and life but they were now old and tired.

-Hey Sev, wake up darling. It's your birthday, said the woman softly.

I looked at her uncomprehendingly. She got up walked to the end of my bed. She reached for the curtain before pulling them aside flooding the room with sunlight.

-Come on darling, your father left for work. I cooked you breakfast.

I stared at the woman until she was out of the room.

I let myself fall on my back and looked at the ceiling. It was truly in a terrible shape, about as much as the walls.

I sat on the edge of the bed and stared in the wall trying to understand what was feeling so wrong in the whole thing. I got up from the bed and my feet met the cold ground of my room. My hairs stood up as I felt the coldness of the room. I quickly moved to the drawers and took out of it a pair a woolen socks, a boxer, a jean, a long-sleeved shirt and a ratty looking but nonetheless thick sweatshirt. I put them on quickly to ward myself from the cold and moved to the window.

I was small. My head barely reached the bottom of the window, but I could still see the snow softly falling in graceful swirl. My thoughts were soon cut by a feminine voice.

-Severus Snape, yelled a feminine voice, don't make me repeat myself. Come down before it gets cold.

I recoiled as if slapped and my breath quickly left my lungs. Suddenly all my memories came rushing and everything made sense.

My father was Tobias Snape. My mother was Eileen Snape. We lived in 38 Spinner end.

My name in this second life was Severus Snape and I was a wizard.

So... What do you think about it? Too detailed? Not enough? Give me your thought!

Bluemoon