Chapter 2
All was eventually made clear. The dark-haired woman, it turned out, was Minerva Riddle - - wife of the Great Query, real name Thomas M. Riddle.
Mrs Riddle didn't openly dispute Severus's story about how he had come to appear in her drawing room, but neither did she release him from the immobility spell. Still, she unbent enough to explain that she usually accompanied "the act" to the music hall to serve as dresser and props mistress but had remained behind this evening because of a headache.
"I hope you are recovered now," Severus said, as politely as he could from his prone position on the floor. He had the feeling that it might not be a bad idea to enjoy Mrs Riddle's approval.
But she seemed to find the comment a bit too forward. There was a stiff pause before she replied, "Tolerably."
He tried again. "You are Narcissa's mother?" he asked, with an obscure sense that women always enjoyed talking about their children.
Something flared in Mrs Riddle's eyes, and her pointed face was momentarily lit by an odd expression. "Hardly," she said. For some reason, she reminded Severus of a cat faced with a particularly juicy canary.
He decided to forego further conversation until Query. . .er, Riddle arrived. There were too many possible pitfalls here; best simply to resign himself to lying in uncomfortable silence.
But rather to his surprise, Mrs Riddle spoke again. "You are magical?" she asked.
What Severus wanted to say was, "Do non-magical people normally materialise out of thin air in your sitting room?" What he did say was, "Yes. Self-trained."
She eyed him narrowly. "Then you did not attend Hogwarts School?"
"I did not," he replied, though what business it was of hers, he wasn't sure. But he fancied that her ramrod-straight back relaxed a fraction at his words.
Interesting.
She fell silent then, and Severus took the opportunity of studying her. Not young, but decidedly handsome in a prim, sharp-featured way; he preferred her type to the more languidly-pretty Narcissa. With her strong jaw, patrician nose, and considerable quantity of mostly-black hair, Mrs Riddle looked elegantly respectable and just the slightest bit frightening. Not someone to run afoul of, Severus decided.
But then, neither was he. He thought he might very much enjoy testing her limits.
- / - / -
There was an odd sense of inevitability about how it all ended. The Great Query and his assistant did eventually return, and Severus - - released from the "body-bind" spell and plied with tea - - found himself explaining his history in more elaborate detail than he had ever vouchsafed to anyone.
He wasn't yet certain if it made sense to trust these people, but still, aside from his mother, they were the only other magical beings he'd ever encountered. He'd seen enough of his own world - - "Muggle," his mam had always called it - - to know its limitations, and he firmly believed that the magical one could only be better. He wanted to belong to it, and the Querys could be his way in.
"So now you know why I am not part of the magical world," he concluded at last. "But I am curious as to why you are not."
Tom Riddle smiled but did not answer immediately. Instead, he said, "We'll get to that, but first, I wonder if I could ask you a favour, sir?" Before Severus could say yea or nay, Riddle went on, "Do you have a wand, and, if I were to ask you, could you do some magic for me?
What was this, an audition of some sort? Severus wondered. But he had nothing to lose, so he inclined his head in acquiescence.
"Yes, I have a wand," he said, removing it slowly from his coat. It was not without some trepidation that he allowed the Riddles to take it from him; he was coming to understand that for a wizard, a wand was like an extension of his heart. He felt anxious without it, in the brief moments during which Mr and Mrs Riddle inspected it, but they soon returned it.
"Your mother seems to have cared for it well, and you after her," Mrs Riddle said, approval clear in her voice. Severus felt that she warmed to him a bit.
And then the audition - - for such it clearly was - - began.
Riddle asked Severus to perform a variety of spells and charms; he even invited him to prepare a potion, though Severus was forced to confess that he didn't know how. For although he did own his mother's potions book, he'd never had the ingredients or tools.
"Ah, well, no matter," Riddle said. "You have shown me enough to make clear that you have a great deal of magical ability." He sat quiet for a moment and then suddenly turned to look at his wife. "My dear?" he asked.
Mrs Riddle gave Severus a glance that he could only think of as appraising, and pursed her thin lips. "Yes," she said. "I believe he will suit."
"Will suit what?" Severus demanded. He was willing to be agreeable up to a point, if it would help him gain his ends, but he refused to be discussed as if he were not in the room.
Riddle answered smoothly, as Severus would come to understand that he always did. "I will be frank," he said, a phrase that usually made Severus assume the speaker was anything but. "In the wizarding world, our abilities are not surprising; they are shared by all. Oh, some people are magically more skilled or powerful than others, of course - - I may say without boasting that I am one of those more-powerful people - - but we all compete on more or less the same level. We most of us survive, but not many of us prevail.
"Here in the Muggle world, however, our abilities are exceptional, unusual. Our superiority is clear. And since I am not a man who is prepared simply to survive, I have chosen to come to a place where I am likely to prevail. My dear wife - - " and here he extended a hand and a smile to Mrs Riddle, who sat straight and silent opposite him - - "is also a witch of great ability, and Narcissa is quite gifted as well. We have done very well for ourselves as Muggle magicians, and I believe we can do even better. Eventually we plan to earn enough to able to give up the stage entirely."
"And do what?" Severus asked.
"Ah, who is to say, my boy? The world will be our oyster, so to speak. I might go into politics, perhaps, or land speculation. The possibilities are endless. But those days have yet to arrive. First, we have the rest of our fortunes to earn."
With a wave of his wand, Riddle freshened the drawing-room fire and motioned the tea pot to pour more tea. Severus was not surprised to find that it was still nicely warm.
"We are making a name for ourselves," Riddle continued, "but we need to do even more. Our success depends on more and grander tricks and effects. We can become international stars. But it will require a great deal of magical energy and effort. In short, we need to expand the act. We have been looking for an additional member of our troupe, and when I felt your power in the audience tonight, I thought perhaps we had found our man."
"You want me to stand on stage in a red cape?" Severus asked, incredulous.
Riddle laughed. "Oh, not immediately, of course. You have a great deal to learn. I am proposing an apprenticeship, Mr Snape. We - - Minerva and Narcissa and I - - will help you complete your magical education, teaching you what you need to know to work with us, and you, in return, will remain in our employ for at least a year, contributing to the act as we deem appropriate. If, at the end of a year, we find our association to be mutually beneficial, we may all elect to continue. If not, we will part ways with no hard feelings."
After a moment, he added, "You will want to think over the proposal, of course, or perhaps you have questions to ask. Shall we meet tomorrow and - -"
"No," Severus interrupted. He'd made up his mind. "I accept your offer."
Riddle beamed. "Excellent." He clapped his hands, and to Severus's astonishment, a little being with huge ears and eyes, its tiny body wrapped in what looked like a tea towel, appeared with a pop.
"Master called?" it - - he? - - squeaked.
"Champagne, Beckley," Riddle ordered. "We have something to celebrate."
The creature popped away again, and before Severus could even ask who or what Beckley was, he was back, with four shimmering glasses on a tray.
Mrs Riddle floated one glass to each of them, and Mr Riddle raised his in a toast.
"To Severus Snape," he said. "The newest Query. And what a deep one he appears to be."