Et Anima Mea ... ? (And My Soul ... ?)
A/N: This humble little fic is the product of a "what if" moment. As in, what if Severus Snape stepped into a cross between "Somewhere in Time" and "The Picture of Dorian Gray?" There is some canon here, but I'll be taking a fair amount of artistic license as well. Ob … viously. I plan to update about once a week. This fic has completely possessed me and is trying to claw its way out, so I will not be abandoning it. I hope you all like it. I graciously welcome kudos, comments and critiques.
Blanket Disclaimer: All recognizable people, places and things throughout this entire fic are the property of J.K. Rowling. The only things I lay claim to are: the character of Rocana Rowntree, the term "Obscurmagus", the plot, and the spells that Rocana has up her sleeve.
*See the end of the work for more notes.
Chapter 1
Initium Novus (The New Beginning)
The lone witch stood gawping like a tourist, her amethyst tresses lazily furling and eddying from under her Victorian top hat like a sleepy dervish in the summery winds. To say the castle remained beautiful, despite its recent damage, would have been a travesty of an understatement. She indulged in a fleeting moment of self-pity for the 'never was.'
She had been homeschooled, nay, cloistered. Not because her parents thought a school had nothing to teach her, rather they thought no school - not even the wizarding kind - could handle their daughter, nor help her to control the magic that spontaneously burst forth from her with a power only the greatest witches and wizards possess.
As a baby, her mobile whirred without its motor. Her stuffed animals lined themselves up along the wall next to her crib like sentinels to witness her slumber. She thrashed and keened like an injured beast when touched. The tantrums of her 'terrible twos' played havoc on many a home furnishing with a mere well-aimed glance. No. No school, even those designed to house her kind, could possibly have been equipped to rein in her power.
Of course, the Quill of Acceptance had recorded her birth. And it didn't take long for word of her outbursts to travel amongst the magical of Hammersmith. There were tuts and muttered assumptions regarding this strangest of children. She was born at the crossroads … She carries the mark, she does … Why, it's as if Hecate herself came down and anointed her … Born on the eleventh day of the eleventh month? No wonder the gel has such power … And a Muggle-born no less?
The scent of verbena riding on the breeze pulled her from her remembrances with a gentle, lemony tug. She looked down at the sturdy little terrier waiting dutifully beside her. The dog peered up at her from underneath a hefty set of black eyebrows. "Are you ready, Haggis?"
He shook his head with a half-sneeze, half-snort, and took off ahead of her at a jaunty trot, head held high, tail in the air.
As she neared the wrought iron gates, she noticed an extremely large man approaching from the other side. He lifted a meaty arm in greeting as he lumbered towards her.
"Mornin'. Rubeus Hagrid, Keeper o' Keys an' Grounds at Hogwarts an' Professor o' Care o' Magical Creatures. Everyone jus' calls me Hagrid. I 'spect yeh'll be Miss Rocana Rowntree, then?"
Rocana gave a polite smile and nodded her assent.
"An' who's this handsome little feller?"
"This would be Haggis the Ham," she said gesturing towards her furry companion. "You can see how he acquired his nickname."
Living up to his moniker, Haggis sat up on his rump and moved his little arms up and down in a 'two-handed' wave.
"We'll ge' along jus' fine, you an' me. An' I gotta coupla friends fer yeh too. There's Fang, and sometimes Fluffy comes 'round fer a visit. He's got two more heads'n you but yeh don' need ter worry abou' tha'."
As Rocana stood there, eyebrows on the rise, wondering whether or not Hagrid was having her on, Hagrid boomed, "Follow me!" and started heading toward the castle, Haggis happily in tow. Hmmph. And dogs are supposed to be loyal creatures …
With a shake of her head, Rocana lifted the hem of her champagne-coloured riding robes, levitated her trunk, and hastened her gait to keep up with the helpful half-giant. As they came nearer to the castle, she could finally see the heavier damage from the Final Battle that had yet to be repaired. Struck with a thought, Rocana asked, "Hagrid, how is the castle being repaired?"
"Oh, tha'," Hagrid said, slowing his momentum to let her catch up. "The castle's been repairin' herself some. The professors and some students are helpin' too. Why'd yeh ask?"
"Let's just say I learned to repair things at a young age."
Hagrid gave a hearty chuckle and leaned in toward Rocana as if they were about to share a great secret. "I imagine yeh were prob'ly showin' a little spontaneous magic as a wee tyke, weren' yeh?"
"I see my reputation precedes me," Rocana said with an easy laugh.
"Well, yer kinda like a legend o' sorts in the wizardin' world. Sort of a young female Dumbledore, if yeh will, Merlin rest his soul. I haven' seen the teachers this excited about summat in quite a while. I reckon yeh're jus' what this place needs righ' now," he said with a wink.
"That's kind of you to say, Hagrid. Thank you." Rocana already felt a soft spot growing in her heart for Hagrid. He had a calm benevolence about him that made it effortless to let one's guard down and laugh freely in his presence.
"Ah! Well, here we are. Minerva'll be waitin' fer yeh in her office." Hagrid looked down at Haggis. "This is the end o' the line fer you, wee lad. Yeh'll be comin' back ter the hut with me. Say goodbye ter yer mum."
Haggis threw his head back with a 'rooo-oo-oo' and stood up to paw at Rocana's leg. She crouched down to give him a quick scrub around his ears.
"You be a good boy for Hagrid, Mister. We can't have you wearing out your welcome. I'll be along to visit you later."
"Yeh can come by teh see him anytime yeh like, Miss Rowntree."
"Rocana, please. And thank you for looking after him for me."
"Aw, 's me pleasure. Come on, Haggis. Let's go meet all yer new friends." And with that, Hagrid and Haggis headed back down the path towards Hagrid's hut. Rocana felt a sense of peace. Even though she couldn't keep Haggis with her in her quarters, she knew that he would be more than well cared for in Hagrid's company.
Rocana made her way to the third floor of the Headmaster's Tower. She had already been offered the job; it was just a matter of signing her contract with the headmistress, acclimating herself to life in the grand castle, and designing her lesson plans before the students returned for start of term.
She kept her eyes forward, receiving pointed looks and whispers from the portrait denizens as she passed. Never before had she felt the magnitude of so many eyes upon her. As she paused in front of the stone gargoyle guarding the staircase to the headmistress's office, even it slowly opened one eye to assess her. Then, with a sound like churning gravel, the monolith spoke but one word in its thirsty voice: "Finally."
In the time it took her to blink in surprise, the gargoyle was back to its stony slumber. Rocana was left to wonder if it had, in fact, moved in the first place. Perhaps the mysterious aura that permeated the castle was also permeating her brain. No, I definitely heard it. She mentally shook herself and said, "Toffee Eclairs," then waited to see if the gargoyle would do anything more than move aside. Nothing. She floated her trunk to settle on the floor and placed her hat on top.
As she rode the moving stairs to the top of the tower, she wondered at what the gargoyle had meant. Finally? I'm five minutes early. Surely it wasn't implying that I'm late for my appointment … Did it somehow know that, had things gone in a natural direction, I should have been a student here?
These thoughts tumbled through her mind until she reached her final destination. As soon as she crossed the threshold into Professor McGonagall's office, she was awestruck once more. Her eyes roved over the room like sponges, absorbing the scene before her. She suddenly felt just how she imagined every first year would at seeing these sights for the first time: like a mote adrift in a vast, magnificent world. The floor-to-ceiling shelves were filled with little nooks, every one of them niched with some arcane trinket or frippery. On one spindly table stood a device that resembled an armillary sphere, whirring within and around itself. As she neared the curious object, she noticed little plumes of bluish, odorless smoke puffing out at intervals. Just as she reached out a petite, satin-gloved hand - looking wasn't enough, she simply had to touch and discover its secrets -
"Ah! Miss Rowntree, welcome to Hogwarts."
Rocana yanked her hand back like a child caught with their hand in the biscuit tin. The prim headmistress had been momentarily hidden behind a stone pillar as she descended the staircase.
"Good Morning, Headmistress," Rocana said, a blush forming on her cheeks from being caught mid-snoop.
"As we are to be colleagues, I must insist you call me Minerva. We do not stand on ceremony here amongst staff." The tartan-robed matriarch crossed to where Rocana stood, still eyeing the object that had captivated her attention. "Yes, strange thing, isn't it? I have no earthly idea what it does. Refuses to be moved too. I imagine it's protected by something of Dumbledore's doing."
Rocana noted a hint of sadness around the headmistress's eyes. As quickly as it appeared, it was gone.
"Please sit," Minerva said as she settled herself behind the ornate, oaken desk that served as the nucleus of the room. "Figgy!"
A little house-elf popped into view, already prostrated in a bow, pink-tufted ears brushing the floor. "Yes, Missy Headmistress," the elf squeaked. "How can Figgy serve?"
"Tea, please, Figgy. Oh, and some of those lovely chocolate biscuits, I think."
"Yes, Mistress. Figgy lives to serve Most Honorable Headmistress of Hogwarts." And with that, the little elf vanished from sight with the same soft noise that had heralded her arrival. Rocana mused that Figgy's disapparation sounded a bit like the popping of Muggle bubble wrap.
"Now, I trust your journey back across the pond was a pleasant one, Miss Rowntree?"
"Very much so, thank you. Although, as you said, we're to be colleagues. Please call me Rocana."
"Very well," said Minerva. "I must say, Rocana, that everyone here at Hogwarts is most excited to welcome you to the fold. I assure you that the physical damage you undoubtedly saw on your way in is nothing compared to the emotional scars etched on the people who fought here. And while the trauma is still fresh, we believe the best way to heal is to restore as much normality as quickly as possible."
"A wise decision, I imagine," said Rocana. Her eyes suddenly found her lap fascinating. "I admit, Minerva, that I carry a sense of guilt over not having been here to fight alongside -"
"Nonsense, my dear. I'll have none of that," Minerva interrupted, holding up a hand to halt her. "You were exactly where you should have been. Had you been here, well … who knows how that may have changed the course of events. What is important is that the Light won, and you're here now to play a very important role in picking up the pieces," Minerva assured her.
"That's kind of you to say, Minerva. But I think that's just it - I've never felt, until now, of course, that I was exactly where I should be. From not being able to attend Hogwarts, to not being here to fight against Voldemort … I just feel as if I've been sheltered from some of the most important events of our world," Rocana admitted.
"Tosh! You've done more than your share. How many Obscurials were able to come here to Hogwarts, something they should never have been able to do, mind you, and fight for their school? Their freedom? Their very world?
"Without you and your amazing gift," said Minerva indicating to Rocana's gloved hands folded in her lap, "those children wouldn't have made it past age ten. That's not even taking into consideration the many you helped while in the States.
"You're the only Obscurmagus known to exist in the wizarding world. Do you have any idea how special you are? You do what no one else can: you save these most special of children from death by their own magic. Don't ever doubt that you have played, and will continue to play, a vital role in the lives of all magical children," Minerva huffed.
The headmistress leaned back in her chair, seemingly finished with her rant. She picked up her teacup and peered over the rim at the young witch seated across from her, waiting for her words to take root. Rocana sat there gobsmacked. She had never had someone other than her own family act so protective of her before. And this was meeting the headmistress for the first time.
"I … I don't believe I've ever looked at it quite that way," whispered Rocana, more to herself than Minerva. She nodded. "Thank you for putting things into perspective, Minerva." Note to self: don't end up on the business end of her wand.
"You are most welcome. Just don't make me have to set you straight again, dear. That was utterly exhausting."
The two women shared a laugh that instantly lifted the veil of seriousness that had descended upon the room, and tucked into the biscuits that Figgy had left for them. Neither had noticed her return; they had probably scared off the poor little elf with their impassioned tete-a-tete.
"Well," said Minerva, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a damask napkin and clasping her hands together. "Now that that's settled, let's get your contract signed so you can officially be christened the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. As the position is no longer cursed, I expect you to become the longest-tenured DADA instructor this castle has ever known."
"I certainly intend to, Minerva," said Rocana with a smile as she put quill to parchment and solidified the deal. As she looped her last 'e', she felt the tingle of ancient magic spread from the quill to her fingers. It chased a golden, fizzy path up her arm; across her chest; then settled, warm amber liquid in her heart. She smiled again and flexed her fingers.
"Ready for the grand tour Professor Rowntree?"
"I thought we agreed to dispense with formalities."
"We did. I just wanted to be the first to address you by your new title," Minerva said as she stood and straightened herself into a visage of mock haughtiness and gave Rocana a conspiratorial wink.
Just as they made to leave, Argus Filch came flying into the headmistress's office like his arse was on fire.
"Mum! Mum!" Filch was running in place.
"For Merlin's sake, slow down you imbecile! What is it?"
Filch stopped, took a fortifying breath and began anew, "Sorry, Mum," he panted. The calm was short lived. He was running in place again. "Mum! Professors Flitwick and Sinistra are arguing over the repairs to the Astronomy Tower. They look about ready to hex each other!"
Easily spent, Filch stopped and leaned over, bracing his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath.
"Eh. It seems the old adage is true - a woman's work is never done. Please excuse me, Rocana. I'm afraid the tour will have to wait. Mr. Filch, would you please collect yourself and be so kind as to show Professor Rowntree to her quarters while I go sort those two out?"
"Yes, Mum."
"Erm … actually, it's ok. I'm sure you have more important matters to attend to, Mr. Filch. I can find my way. Thank you, Minerva, for the tea and sympathy," Rocana said graciously.
"You're most welcome, dear. Perhaps we can meet again after dinner?"
"Perfect. Until then," Rocana bowed her head towards the headmistress. She let Filch and Minerva go ahead of her on the way out. The plain truth was that, even though she felt a tad guilty about it, Filch gave her the creeps.
As she reached the bottom of the stairs, levitated her trunk, and turned to leave, she looked back at the gargoyle once more. Stony. Impassive. Move along, nothing to see here, folks. She made a mental note to ask Minerva about the gargoyle and offer to assist in the repairs to the castle when they met again after dinner.
Rocana set off toward the Serpentine Corridor. She and Minerva had already agreed, during the several owls that had passed between the two prior to her arrival, that it made sense that her quarters be just off the third floor DADA classroom. She figured she'd drop off her belongings, then treat herself to a self-guided tour of her new home. She could unpack after dinner. As she journeyed through the halls, she thought, I wonder what other peculiarities I might find here ...
A/N:
Rocana: The goddess daughter of Yajna, the Hindu lord of sacrifice.
Rowntree: "One who lives near a rowan tree".
Rowan: The tree of power, causing life and magic to flower. It calls the spirits and banishes them and knows them because it truly lives in multiple worlds at once.
Obscurmagus: One who is able to help the Obscurial (a witch or wizard who, due to being raised in an environment where their magic is viewed negatively, develops an Obscurus; a dark parasitic force resulting from their own magic being suppressed and tainted by negative emotion) release their Obscurus.
Next up on Et Anima Mea … ?:
Rocana begins exploring the castle but doesn't get very far. She stumbles upon a mysterious room in which she 'meets' a mysterious man. Curiouser and curiouser ...