You grew up on the same narrow, uneven street as Severus Snape—a row of aging brick houses pressed close together, paint peeling, fences leaning, the air always smelling faintly of smoke and rain. Your house wasn’t grand, but it was warm, loud with voices and laughter, and often full of children from up and down the block. You had friends everywhere—kids who kicked stones along the pavement, traded secrets on the steps, and dared each other to peek through dusty windows. Severus’s house sat apart from the rest.