He lived his life in a small town, known as Shawtel. The families in Shawtel were very strict on the forbiddance of magic, whether for study, battle or just fun. They especially despised sorcerers, for they were born with this ability. And, of course, Severus was a sorcerer. He didn�t find out about his ability until he was ten years old, when he accidentally cast a spell after his mother was yelling at him for dropping plates, shattering them all over the floor. Severus was so frustrated, and said it wasn�t his fault because his older brother had purposely tried to trip him. This was always happening, and he couldn�t take it anymore, he finally screamed, and a circle of purple light spread around him at his feet, it rose up around his body, then from his hands shot a sort of missile, and it went flying round the house, ricocheting of the walls and furniture, breaking everything it touched. It finally subsided after it had hit his father�s suit of armor, leaving a giant dent right in the chest plate. His father, as the town�s chief of law enforcement, was indifferent as to whether it was his son or a criminal, for they are the same if they both cast magic. It was late at night, raining, and Severus�s father just picked him up and threw him out into the streets, a few minutes later, he came back, carrying all of his son�s belongings, and a horn. Standing before his son, looking at him as if he was naught but a little bitch, old, weak, not even good enough to kill and cook for supper. He blew the horn, and in a few short minutes, almost every house in town had someone coming out of it, some in their night clothes, others dressed as if for war. They all gathered round in a circle about Severus, some fifty or so men, and they all began to advance in on him. Three men with ropes came foreword a little faster, cautiously tied him up. Severus tried to cast another spell, but it didn�t work, he concentrated as best he could, but nothing happened, he screamed, kicked and bit but couldn�t fight off his captors. When he was bound and gagged, they threw him in the back of a wagon, three men plus his father and brother, rode for hours into the night. At about three in the morning, they stopped in the middle of forest, and just threw Severus and his belongings off the wagon, and rode back to Shawtel. Severus lay there, in the dark, in a forest, rain pouring on him through the leaves above. A streak of lightning ran across the sky, the thunder applauding it�s entrance, roaring in the night, and the entire wood seemed to be listening to it�s call. Severus was scared, afraid he would not survive this onslaught of nature. It then occurred in his mind, that the nature may save him. He recalled stories of powerful mages who could summon lightning and fire out of their fingertips, with but a word and a motion, but he couldn�t move, and couldn�t speak. He cursed the bindings placed to his person by the people who were, or once were, his family. He could do nothing then but sleep, so he did.