Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter or Labyrinth.

Chapter Eleven

It was the silence that was the most disconcerting. Severus usually preferred quiet, or at least he had thought so. It turned out, after much reflection, that what he actually preferred was calm. The sort of silence permeating the Labyrinth and Goblin Kingdom, and indeed, the entire Underground, was a shocked, sad, and frightened stillness which didn't qualify as a true calm.

The human who had been running the Labyrinth the night Severus arrived had been killed. In fact, from what he'd heard, that little fox that guarded the Bog of Stench had been forced to end him using an adapted short sword given to him by His Majesty that very night. The man had been running out of time and had attacked a family of wood sprites living nearby. The story told was that the runner had had to work pretty hard to dig them out of their tree, given that the king had sealed away all of his most vulnerable subjects for the duration of the violent man's run. Sadly, he'd had anger issues, hated to lose, and even worse, was a squib from a prominent family in the Americas. His residual magic allowed him to get further along than anticipated in the three or so hours left to him after finally entering the Labyrinth.

When his body had been returned home, his brother, an aspiring dark lord, wished himself away, along with a handful of the man's followers. King Jareth had been debriefing the heroic fox in another part of the castle. Upon responding to the castle's warning, the two of them materialized into a pitched battle between the wizards and goblins in the wish-away and goblin throne room. Apparently, the fox did quite a bit of damage but was injured in the five seconds before the fraying thread of His Majesty's vast and glorious temper snapped. The bloodbath that followed was horrifying, even in second-hand whispers told many days later. On a more positive note, there would never again be an attack on the Goblin King or his domain from Above, ever…by anything anywhere—and the valiant little fox, Sir Didymus, would recover completely, decorated with full honors.

Most frustrating of all, at least for Severus, was that his mind had needed the same frame of time to heal from intrusion as if he'd been in t he Above. Yesterday evening was the first occasion in nearly three months local-time that he was allowed to walk through the halls of the castle. To be precise, that morning was the first time in almost ninety days Underground that he'd been allowed to even retain full consciousness. For this and other reasons, His Majesty had kept the parting journey of James and Lily Potter on hold until Severus could participate.

Nobody had known of the death of the Lady Mother and her consort for the first thirty-six days, the end of twenty-four hours by the Aboveground calendar. Apparently the king had hoped he could recover his son before finalizing to parting of the two people he shared parenthood with and had only revealed their deaths in the second month. The next thirty days had allowed High King Oberon and High Queen Titania to view the couple, attempt to comfort their son, and attend the various services for their distant niece and nephew. People from all over the vast Underground territories had come to pay their respects and accompany the remaining family on their journey to the big water to send Lily's and James' bodies to join their souls in the Otherworld.

The walk began at dusk last evening and ended just before the sun reached its zenith late this morning. Nobody spoke at all during the trek aside from the low murmuring of sidhe prayers by some of the crowd. The bodies of the couple were released into the surf of the Western Sea and would float off toward the Isle of Paradise joining their souls already waiting there. As direct family of the royal house, Severus, along with the bodies Lily, and James, were dressed in the palest blue silk reflecting the color of the summer sky before one's eye reaches the sun. Lily wore a dress and kid slippers and James, like Severus, was clothed in a long tunic, breeches and knee boots. The High King and Queen, along with King Jareth wore white clothing, the hue so white, in fact, that it hurt one's eyes to look for long. Jareth's hair had seemed to pale to silver, as did his parents' hair. Severus wondered for a moment if Iarfhlaith's hair would have followed suit. While most of the citizenry remained behind to celebrate the lives and mourn the loss of the departed, the royal family, along with each court and certain key citizens, transported back to their respective domains. For this, Severus was particularly grateful.

With a shake of his head, he lifted his hand to knock on His Majesty's study door. As he knocked, he realized that he was still dressed in the fine blue funerary attire. To Severus' surprise, the door jerked open immediately. The first thing he noticed as he entered was that the king had not changed either, and then the bright, seemingly ultraviolet white pierced his eyes sending a shooting pain straight into his head.

When he winced, King Jareth stepped back, tossing up a crystal to break over them. "My apologies, Severus, I hadn't realized what I was wearing, just as you apparently didn't either."

After forcing his eyes open again, he looked down to see that he was dressed in burnished gold trews or leggings, tan boots, an off white shirt and off white and gold brocade vest. The style was similar to His Majesty's preference, but a great deal more understated. He couldn't hold back a slight smile.

"Thank you, Sire."

"Had to think about it, did you?" the king responded with a faint smirk. "I'll have the tailor see you tomorrow, shall I?" Severus nodded as no verbal answer seemed required.

It surprised Severus to see His Majesty wearing varying shades of pale gold and off white. Everything he wore had very little color, all of it a shade lighter than Severus' clothes. He realized, after a moment, that they were both dressed in traditional fae daily mourning attire, or what was normal for the royal family. The citizens of this kingdom would wear pale pastels of other colors, but Severus' clothing reflected his higher status. He couldn't help but feel moved. It wasn't often that Severus Snape was included, but the Goblin King had been scrupulous about making sure that Severus knew that he was a member of his family. He suspected his color was supposed to be different than the direct royal line. He'd have to read up. Later.

Clearing his throat, he attempted to focus on the reason he had come. "Matron Acacyllis has cleared me for…" Severus trailed off. He didn't quite know what to call it. "I suppose she cleared me for us to do what we need to," he finished.

"Yes," the king murmured, looking at him intently as if judging his wellbeing for himself. "Well, come and sit down, then. Let us see what we can find." Severus followed the king to the two wingback chairs they sat in during his last visit, slightly surprised when his companion pulled his own chair closer before sitting down. "This will require a certain amount of "hands on" interaction, Severus," the king warned. "I will enter your mind and slowly repair the blockages—or whatever other damage we find. If it is an action that was the cause, we'll see it projected as it repairs itself. If it was something you heard, we will see and hear the words spoken. The picture might be somewhat faded, but the words will be clear or conversely, if the event you witnessed was blocked out, we'll see it more clearly than we hear it. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Sire," Severus managed, throat dry.

With a brusque nod, the fae touched his temples, a palm cupping either side of his face. "Look at me," he ordered. Unable to disobey, Severus looked up into the king's hypnotic mismatched eyes. King Jareth spoke a few words that Severus couldn't understand, though something in him pulled, as if he had known the language once upon a time. A steady hum began in the back of his mind, the sound growing louder and clearer a little at a time, as if something was moving closer from a great distance. The king continued to speak musical sounding words in a singsong tone that sounded vaguely familiar. A pressure grew, as if a zipper was coming undone. All Severus could see was the dark magnetic center of King Jareth's eyes while he felt the rhythmic vibration throughout his entire being. When he was certain his mind would fly apart, the king released him murmuring, "Remember!"

A third voice then began to speak. "One moment, I just realized that the floo was open in one of my homes," the faint figure of Headmaster Dumbledore told Severus before winking away.

Then after a brief pause, he reappeared. "Oh, dear, oh dear," the flickering old manipulator clucked, "It looks like something has happened to the Potters." His words were somehow false in their echo, and Severus suddenly remembered the look on the Headmaster's face at the time. "The child lives," he continued. "I'll have to send Hagrid for him right away as his godfather, Sirius Black, obviously can't be trusted. He'll have to stay someplace safe until…"

"You'll do nothing of the kind," Severus heard himself snap at the man, though no image of him showed—perhaps that was because he was present? He didn't know. But now his voice sounded again. "That boy is my godchild and he goes nowhere that I…"

The figure of Albus Dumbledore stood and then Severus saw himself turn. "Obliviate!" Dumbledore said hurriedly before he faded away.

And then there was only silence between himself and the king.

Although Severus was more than a little disturbed by the images and memories resettling themselves into his mind, he was truly frightened by the glacial rage frozen across King Jareth's features.

The room remained silent for countless seconds until the king finally spoke. "The day of that man's death—hopefully by my hands—will be widely celebrated in this land," the monarch hissed, gripping the arm of his chair so tightly that the leather gave way on one side. "You do not truly know what he has cost us thus far, do you Severus?"

"He has taken my godson, that I am sure of," Severus said tautly, his own anger burning hot.

"Yes, that he has. Now that we know this, we have some hope of finding him. But there was a larger significance to his words than even you realize," He handed Severus a crystal orb. "Watch it. I don't have the stomach to see it again just now."

When Severus turned his attention back to the king after viewing the crystal, he was surprised to realize that only ten minutes had passed. It had seemed like a lifetime, but then again, in a sense it was.

"Can we kill him?" Severus choked out.

"Of course we can, Severus. Since we are constrained by all manner of treaties, we ought not to, but anyone can be killed. Sadly for him, he has broken a treaty or two by his actions." He leaned back in his chairs and tapped the tips of his gloved fingers together. "As soon as my son is safe again, Headmaster Dumbledore will begin to experience a deplorable run of bad luck." King Jareth's eyes narrowed. "The moment it is safe for the two of you to reside here solely, Albus Dumbledore will experience a very public, terribly tragic accident. There will be no doubt as to how careless he was, and what, exactly caused his death…or who."

KT KT KT KT KT

It was cold and dark, and Iarfhlaith wanted to go home. He was hungry, too, but when he'd shown that he didn't need a bottle, he was allowed a banana, at least. The woman, he was to call her ma'am, yelled at him and hit him for needing a new nappy. She'd given him a nappy to pull on himself and told him he had to use the toilet from now on. He'd never done that before and it was high up, but he'd managed, with a great deal of difficulty and some splatter. That had earned him another slap and orders to clean it up.

And then there was the other boy who was twice as big as Iarfhlaith, but drank a bottle like a baby. He screamed and cried when he wanted things, and then he threw his toys. Iarfhlaith's mummy would never stand for that. That was the sort thing that made her voice get mad and caused him to go to bed without a story, even if it wasn't sleepy-time yet. But Iarfhlaith didn't have any toys here, or clothes either, and his arms felt shivery.

This was a horrid place—the worst place in the Above.

"Daky, Daky, peese, wanna be Unda-gwound…" Iarfhlaith sang softly, taking care to keep his voice low.

"A land serreeeenne…" came a tiny voice off to the side.

Iarfhlaith's head shot up and he looked around. "Who is it?"

Something that looked like a teeny little boy with shiny butterfly wings, altogether no bigger than Iarfhlaith's finger, fluttered in front of him. A nimbus of light surrounded the winged boy and it seemed to come from a very small stick he carried. "My name is Jasper and I'm a pixie. Mum saw a stone called jasper once and it was dark red, like my hair, so she called me Jasper."

"Mine, too?" Iarfhlaith asked, reaching up to pull a strand of hair forward.

The pixie flew closer and lit the area around Iarfhlaith's head. "Wow! Your hair is red. Dark red; darker than mine. Is your name Jasper, too?"

"No. I'm Yaawa."

"Well, that's an odd name. But if your mummy gave it to you, then it's a good one." Jasper looked at him for a long minute, waving his stick and making it brighter in the little room. "You look a lot like the king, do you know that?"

Iarfhlaith's eyes filled and he nodded. "My Daka is Gobbin King. Wanna be Unda-gwound." He sniffled and wiped at his face with the blanket. "Can I go wif you?"

"Hey, so you're the prince, aren't you?" Iarfhlaith nodded hopefully. "I'm sorry Prince, but I can't go. I can't go until the king calls me. I haven't been there in a very long time. And he won't call me for a long time, still."

Iarfhlaith wanted to be a big boy, he really did. But he was little still and he couldn't help but cry. This pixie-person knew his Daka, but he couldn't take him. It felt like he'd been so close to his Daka, and then lost again.

"Want my Daka," he sniffled, laying down on the rug that Ma'am had put in the dark room for him and pulling his little blanket over his body.

"Shh. Of course you do, Prince. But at least I'm here. I can help." Iarfhlaith felt a warm tingling fall over him as he closed his eyes. "Down in the Underground, you'll find someone tru-uu," Jasper sang as Iarfhlaith's breathing evened out and he began to dream.