Disclaimer: If I owned it, I'd be rich. Sannovan and Maon are MINE, though, and any stealers are subject to extremely painful and fierytorture before death.
A/N: Well, everyone, here it is. Edited, of course, but back and better than ever. Flames will be used to burn their respective owners. Enjoy!
Chapter One: Snape and the Sariot
"She has eluded us again."
"I know, Master. There was nothing I could do once she got onto Hogwarts grounds. The castle's spells are far too powerful. Plus, he is there."
"I know. That is likely to be a problem. But it is of no moment now. She does not know the power she carries within her. Thus she is still within our grasp."
"If she ever discovers it…."
"Then we will worry about it. Until then, I want her back."
"Yes, Master."
"And I will not tolerate failure this time, Maon."
"Yes, Master."
It had grown to twilight. There was a little girl standing near the middle window, with large, empty black eyes and white hair to her waist.
Severus Snape suddenly appeared. He looked momentarily at me, registering me with a distasteful, rather irritated expression, and then turned to the girl. He said something, accusing her of something like murder or planning to murder. She threw something to me. Then she flung herself through the window with the same kind of blank, impenetrable calm she'd had all along. Uninjured, she ran away.
Snape rushed to the window. He leaned out, watching as she fled, and swore, angry that she got away. All the glass had been knocked out of the bottom of the window; he remained uncut even though he was resting his hands on it. One hand held his wand.
After he was through inventing new curse words, he turned to me. His words were harsh, and then he named what she had tossed and demanded it of me. It was some sort of poisonous fruit. The green stem part looked like the top of a strawberry; it was crystalline, jewel-like. The bottom was shaped like a long, thin teardrop, and the color and texture of a fuzzy peach. I knew that the stem broke away easily from the top like a cap, and that it was hollow on the inside, but filled with the venomous juice. Despite his insistence, I kept it. When he came toward me to get it, I ran from him.
He pursued me, of course. I had heard that Professor Severus Snape was not one to ask twice, nor would he wait long to take what he wanted. What he did want, he pursued relentlessly and with the façade of either infuriating indifference or intimidating intensity. I reached the end of the building we were in, and then circled around. I went back to the room we had been in and jumped through the window. I landed on my feet on the grass below. He followed me; I ran into the main building and through it until I found many flights of stairs. At the top were rooms, like an attic apartment, with wood floors. They were once occupied because there was dust but not a lot, and a bed, desk, chair, and a bathroom. A reasonable second room served as the walk-in closet, with shelves for clothes and several items hanging as they were. It was not quite big enough to be anything but a closet, but it was larger than usual. I hid in the closet and closed the door, waiting in the impenetrable blackness for him to discover and punish me.
I heard his steps charging up the stairs; he merely slowed before opening the closet door. I was to the far left of the door; he walked in and turned to face me. He began an entire tirade: how could I have let the girl escape, who was she, who was I, how dare I run from him, why did I run in the first place, what was I doing at Hogwarts, and so on. He did not punish me.
He took a rather firm hold on my arm, not quite painful, and led me down to a large wooden door. Inside I saw a circular room, somewhat large. There was an antique beauty to everything. It was somewhat breathtaking. Silver instruments worked in whatever way they did on tables to one side. Portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses covered the walls. A few of them looked up as we entered. The claw-footed desk at the back was littered with papers, a bookshelf behind it. On one shelf sat a curious, tattered wizard's hat. The Headmaster himself seemed to carry his own aura of complete serenity. His face made one want to earn his approval; if ever he frowned, one feared, the disappointment of the dear man would shatter the heart. The depthless compassion in his sharp blue eyes was enough to make me weep of shame for every wrong thing I had done. Here was a man who looked past all faults to the true heart. Anything he heard was not only kept in confidence, it was answered with equal measures of wisdom, truth, and love, which sometimes made those answers painful, but they were always what one needed to hear.
"Headmaster," the professor said as he came into the room, myself not far behind and with no choice in the matter, "I found one." He shoved me forward—not hard, but with enough force to make me take two steps. "The first girl got away—she jumped through the window—but she ran off. She was unharmed by the glass. Before she jumped, she threw a sariot to this one." He hissed the word, and handed the fruit with its lethal nectar to the kindly man.
The headmaster's snowy brow rose slightly as he examined it. "A good thing it has come into my hands," he agreed.
"She ran," Snape continued, pointing at me. "I chased her to the hidden tower. She attempted to hide, but I found her and brought her to you, since she has apparently been conspiring with someone to murder. No one carries a sariot for good luck, you know."
He made a noncommittal sound, and then turned his benevolent gaze to me. "Well, child, what do you have to say for yourself?"
His gentlest tone commanded my most truthful answer. The very nature of the man made me eager to earn his trust. I can only imagine how he saw me. I was five feet tall, with a thinnish frame, which made me look fragile. I was beginning to develop a female figure, as I was fifteen, and I had deep mahogany red hair, which looked anything from brown to black, except for the distinct red shine. It fell to the bottom of my shoulder blades. My skin was twice as pale as that of the beak-nosed instructor behind me, looking almost translucent; it was frequently compared to a bed-sheet or a ghost. This made the color of my hair and my dark doe-like eyes stand out even more. My eyes appeared black unless viewed in direct sunlight, when their true deep blood color was revealed. I always had impeccable posture, more out of a sense of self than anything else, and I utilized every inch of my height. I was dressed in dark crimson, my skirt falling to the floor. My sleeves were loose but did not hang, with cuffs that buttoned twice. I answered in my somewhat quiet voice, firm and clear.
"Most of what the Potions Master has said is true. The six-year-old or so did throw me the fruit, she did jump out the window, and he did chase me. I fled because I was startled and afraid. But I swear to you that I have not conspired to murder. I came from far away, so far I don't even remember. I did not even know what that was until I heard him name it just now. I noticed the girl first, and then Professor Snape. Things began from there."
The ancient man considered that for a moment. "This is a most unusual turn of events." He went over with a comfortable busyness and stroked the bright feathers of his phoenix.
"My suggestion would be to take that sariot to the nurse."
"Oh? And why is that," Snape asked with venom.
I gave him an impassive look. "If you empty it of the nectar and dry it out, you can grind it into a powder. That powder, if included in tea, will cure whoever drinks it of almost anything. It works about as fast as the nectar kills."
"How do you know this? Not even I know that much on the sariot fruit."
My voice remained calm. "I remember reading something about sariot a while ago. I didn't think it existed until now. There is always something to learn, Professor, even when one teaches. Knowledge is useless without the wisdom of how to use it."
"Brilliant display, young lady," the Headmaster murmured from his place near the phoenix. He next spoke next to the Potions Master. "Despite her lack of memory and her contrasting particular knowledge, what the girl says is too odd and too logical to be nonsense. So, it appears we must do what we can." His royal-blue robes flowed as he walked around the desk and came to me. "May I see this, please," he asked, lifting my right wrist.
I nodded, unable to speak, and turned back the sleeve of my shirt three times to reveal the tattoo of a loopy six-pointed star just up my arm from my wrist, on the inside of my arm.
Professor Snape was mildly curious. "What is that," he demanded of me.
"Gently, Professor," Dumbledore murmured. "What is this mark, child?"
"It is a symbol from my homeland," I answered, not meeting his eyes. My gaze was locked on the stain coloring my skin. "It represents a vague concept of continuity, or eternity, because the threads never end." I traced the design. "The number of loops or knots is also important, as is the complexity of the pattern. It was given to me when I received my name."
"Well," he said, releasing my arm from his soft grip, "if you like, you may stay here."
Snape started to object. Self-conscious, I put my sleeve back down, buttoning the cuff again.
Dumbledore held up his hand, silencing the Potions Master. "Only witches and wizards can see this school for what it really is. And since only students or staff may abide on Hogwarts grounds, and you do not meet the requisite as a guest, I am therefore strongly pressed to make you a student at the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry."
Snape was making strangled noises.
The Headmaster continued over him. "You are too old to be accepted on a normal schedule; you must therefore learn through the summer. Professor Snape will instruct you in the art of potion making. Since we have no Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher as of yet, he shall fill that position also. If you learn enough in time for the school year, we shall place you in a house with others in your age group, adding you to that particular year as a transfer student. Until then, you may stay in the rooms you discovered." There was a polite knock on the door, and then a woman of advancing years entered. She wore a pointed hat with a wide brim, a long, sober gray gown, and a robe of emerald green. Her silver hair was pulled up into a bun, and her wrinkles gave her the look not of a crone, but of a woman who, although kind, had a will of iron and accepted no nonsense. "Is something wrong, Professor?"
She spoke in a hurried voice, sounding almost anxious. "I am sorry to barge in like this, Headmaster, but I just saw a girl with white hair running towards the woods. I heard about the window and I tried to stop her but she got away from me. She vanished right before my eyes—I think she may be a forest spirit. If so, then You-Know-Who or one of his former agents might have hired her to kill." She ended her sentence there, seeing me standing a few feet in front of Snape, who watched me like a hawk. She obviously wanted to continue, but chose not to as my presence complicated things.
"This is Professor Minerva McGonagall," Dumbledore introduced her to me. "She is the Deputy Headmistress and will be your tutor in Transfiguration."
I curtsied as gracefully as I could to the female teacher. "Professor," I said in greeting. "My name is Sannovan Silde. I am a new student." I pronounced my name properly, slightly stressing the "sann" in my first name with a pure S, and saying my last name somewhere between "shield", "Shild", and "sealed" with a tiny extra vowel sound on the end.
"I will explain all in a few moments, Minerva," Dumbledore told her. "Professor Snape, take Miss Silde to Diagon Alley in the morning and properly supply her for learning. Your expenses will be reimbursed, so do it well. And let nothing happen to her."
He looked rather demeaned by having to shop with and for a teenage girl, but he acquiesced to the Headmaster's request—which was taken as an order, as most of them are—and led me from the room.