Squib Caretaker
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"
Chapter Eleven: Secret Chambers
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling
Professor Severus Snape had smoke coming out of his ears. Both
literally and figuratively.
"You're a firm believer in punishment, Filch," he snarled. "And
this serves you right! You had no business rummaging about inside
Azoth's basket! You're fortunate that I used a relatively innocuous
protective spell!"
"It's called the Ferula Curse," he continued, coolly. "Azoth is
quite safe from its effects. Only a prying human can trigger the spell."
Glaring at the Professor, I held my throbbing right hand under the
cold water tap in his bathroom sink. My hand felt as if it had been
beaten across the knuckles with a heavy wooden stick.
Snape was right. The Ferula Curse wasn't that bad as far as curses
went. Compared to the curses that he usually favored it was downright
benign. The hurt was a relatively small thing compared to my
mortification.
The Professor had caught me snooping. He'd emerged from the
bathroom, having finally taken the Pepperup, to discover me struggling
to extricate my trapped arm from Azoth's basket and trying not to yelp
out loud as bursts of pain exploded across my knuckles.
At least Snape had removed the curse so I could get my hand free
of the basket. He seemed to feel that my obvious embarrassment had
evened the score between us, at least temporarily. Otherwise he might
have decided that some additional revenge was necessary. Pepperup potion
cures a cold instantly, but the aftereffects can hardly be called
"dignified."
Severus had spent all of yesterday denying that he had a cold
because he didn't want anyone to see him with smoking ears. Today, I had
quite frankly bullied him into drinking a dose of the stuff. Under
ordinary circumstances he would have been sure to make me pay dearly for
my nerve.
The cold water was making my hand numb. I turned off the tap and
gingerly flexed my fingers.
"It was you who gave me the hint about the Alchemist's Door in the
first place..." I pointed out, sullenly. "You said that Azoth and I had
helped you to find the instructions. The basket is the only obvious
connection! Did you think that I wouldn't figure it out?"
"If you hadn't come barging in here and gone nosing about in my
room would you have seen Azoth's basket and made the connection?" The
Potions Master demanded.
An honest answer would have been "probably not," but I was too
ashamed and annoyed to give him an honest answer. And Minerva's leaving
had torn my heart in two, leaving me desolate and reckless.
"Well, this is a fine thank you for my help, isn't it!" I growled.
"You admitted that you wouldn't even have this basket if it wasn't for
me...!"
"Yes...," he said, softly, dangerously. "I've been meaning to ask
you about that, Filch. Tell me. Where in the Castle did you find this
extremely fascinating relic?"
The Pepperup had done its work well. Snape's voice was as silky as
ever, with no trace of hoarseness remaining.
His dark eyes locked on mine.
Suddenly, the smoky halo around Snape's head seemed neither
humorous nor undignified. Instead, he looked diabolical. Like a bird or
a mouse trapped by the gaze of a hunting snake, I was frozen; unable to
look away or even move.
He was demanding that I speak about something I'd never discussed
with anyone, not even the Headmaster. Helga's Workroom was one of the
Castle's Secrets. Somehow, I'd always known that. Even before I knew
whose haven I'd been welcomed into.
"Where do you suppose I found it?" I heard myself say, angrily. I
didn't want him to know that he was frightening me. "Don't you have
theories?"
Snape's voice was pure black velvet. "Indeed I do. Can you take me
there, Filch? Can you show me where you found this basket of Azoth's?"
I folded my arms defensively across my chest. "That would be quite
impossible, Professor."
I thought he'd be furious. Instead, Snape showed his teeth in a
grim smile. Then he released me from his gaze. I wanted to slump against
the wall, but I decided not to give him the satisfaction. Instead I drew
myself up and glared at him.
Again Severus surprised me with a smile. But this one was
approving, quite different from the harsh expression he'd worn only
moments earlier.
"Well done, Filch. You are one of hers, indeed," he observed, not
unkindly. "Whether you were actually Sorted or not."
My anger began to fade in the face of his praise, and his evident
regard for me. Doubtless the professor would accuse me of being easily
manipulated. There are times when he does not seem to understand what
he's done to earn the esteem that I have for him.
"How did you know that the basket belonged to Her?" I asked,
giving the Lady of Hufflepuff her proper due.
"I have discovered that they worked on the Alchemist's Door
together. He asked her to keep the details of their accomplishment
hidden in the safest place that she could think of."
"He...?" I asked, confused.
"Salazar Slytherin," Severus said, a bit impatiently. "Among his
numerous other gifts and achievements, he was a noted Alchemist. And
Helga Hufflepuff could Weave many things."
Professor Snape sat on the edge of his bed. Azoth, sensing a
lessening of tension in the room, immediately leaped into his wizard's
lap.
"Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin?" I murmured.
"Apparently, they corresponded for a while even after the rift
between Slytherin and the others." The Professor rubbed under Azoth's
chin. The tiny cat lifted his head and purred.
"Clever little demon..." Severus said, fondly, looking down at his
pet.
"Most cats are content to bring their companions dead mice and
birds as tokens of affection. And Mrs. Norris likes to bring you news of
misbehaving students."
The Professor paused to rub the cat's belly while the little tom
began happily wrestling with his wizard's hand.
"But Azoth," Snape said, proudly, "brings me the long-lost secrets
of Salazar Slytherin. Even though they've been carefully hidden away
where no one would have ever thought to look for them. Tucked inside
Helga Hufflepuff's old wool-basket, along with a packet of letters from
Slytherin himself!"
"I-I thought it was just a basket." I said, softly. "There were no
spells around it... none that I could sense, anyhow."
"A Weaver's spells are extremely subtle, Filch. I thought it was
an ordinary basket for days. Until I happened to reach inside. I
couldn't feel the bottom. And then I found the letters from Slytherin to
Hufflepuff. As I said, I am in your debt. Yours, and Azoth's."
I sighed. "Repay your debt to us by being more cautious with your
experiments, Professor. Neither Azoth nor I wish to see you harmed."
Severus responded with one of his usual caustic glares.
"Has it occurred to you that Slytherin wanted the Alchemist's Door
kept secret for a very good reason?" I continued, undaunted.
"Of course," Snape said, impatiently. "I'm sure that he had a
number of very good reasons. A Slytherin's motives are always complex.
And we have more secrets than anyone," he added, with a hint of pride in
his voice.
"Just be careful! Don't take foolish risks!" I said, with a hint
of exasperation in mine. "Don't be..."
"My own worst enemy?" Severus hissed, his anger serving to
increase the puffs of smoke that were still curling from his ears.
"The nerve...! The infernal cheek of that flea-bitten, mangy
Gryffindor lout..."
"If you freeze yourself to death or end up with ice-shards buried
in your heart, you'll only be proving him right," I pointed out.
"Professor, please don't attempt to create the Alchemist's Door
again! At least not until you understand what you did wrong the first
time!"
The Potions Master scowled. "You needn't concern yourself, Filch.
Azoth and I shall be leaving the Castle tomorrow morning. And this
experiment is one that I would not attempt to do anywhere but here."
"Alchemists have waited nearly a thousand years for a Door...
surely you can wait a little longer," I said, to console him.
With a quiet sigh, Snape nudged Azoth off his lap and stood to
make his bed. When I noticed that his ribs were hurting him, I moved to
help.
Azoth, who had started to make himself comfortable among the
tangled blankets, gave both of us a baleful yellow stare and stalked
back to his basket.
*******
That evening, after I'd stopped working for the day, I was sitting
in my office. Notes for my Door Forms were spread out all over my desk,
but I was having difficulty concentrating on them.
Professor Snape has often told me that I'm slow on the uptake, and
I suppose that he must be right. I hadn't thought of Helga's welcoming
haven as being in any way akin to Slytherin's legendary, fearsome
Chamber of Secrets.
Did *all* the Founders have Secret places of their own? Professor
Snape's manner had seemed to suggest that he thought it was possible. At
least he'd seemed to suspect the existence of the Lady's Chamber...
Well, Salazar's Chamber was a Secret no longer. And, the Lady's
Workroom was well-known to me. But what of Rowena Ravenclaw? And Godric
Gryffindor?
If I should ask their Doors to take me to their hidden chambers
what would happen?
Troubled, I stroked Mrs. Norris who was curled up on my lap.
"I know the Rules, my sweet..." I murmured. "A Caretaker should
never presume. The Castle will reveal Its secrets to me, or not, as It
pleases."
Then I sighed.
"Oh, well. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it? The Doors
can always refuse me, if I'm out of bounds."
Biting my lip nervously, I summoned blue-and-copper.
With Mrs. Norris cradled in my arms for moral support, I
approached the tapestry.
"If it is permitted...?" I asked Rowena's Door, my destination an
unspoken thought in my mind.
Then we stepped through the tapestry.
*******
Mrs. Norris and I emerged into an unfamiliar Library.
It was a vast, airy chamber, at least three stories high. Long
narrow stained-glass windows rose all the way from floor to ceiling,
bathing the place in color and light.
The sun had long since set, but I was accustomed to the way that
the Founders seemed to be able to make time stand still in their Secret
Chambers.
Bookshelves filled every available section of the wall, accessible
from balconies, movable stairs and tall, rolling ladders. At the other
end of the immense room was an arched doorway.
At intervals in front of the bookshelves, were comfortable-looking
couches and chairs.
Rowena Ravenclaw had protected her books well against age and
dust. Their leather bindings remained clean and bright. But grime lay
thick on the floor. At first I mistook the pale dust for a deep, very
plain carpet.
"Well. This place could certainly do with a good sweeping," I
muttered.
Mrs. Norris leaped lightly down from my arms, leaving her own tiny
paw-prints on the dusty floor.
I followed her through the first chamber, through the arched
doorway and into a second chamber as vast and light and filled with
bright books as the other. It was there that I received a bit of a
shock.
Small footprints had disturbed the dust in here. Human, too big
and not the right shape for a house-elf... perhaps the size of a first
or second year's foot.
They started abruptly in the middle of the floor directly in front
of one of the bookshelves, leading across the room to a shelf on the
opposite wall and then back again, to vanish in the same spot they'd
started.
Wandering over to see where the small footprints led, I noticed
several empty spaces on the shelves there. The titles of the books that
remained were all in a language that I couldn't read.
Obviously there were other paths that led to the Secret Library of
Ravenclaw. I looked around a bit. Gruffly, I called out "who's there?" a
time or two. No-one answered.
In a small alcove beneath a stained glass window was a couch,
curved to fit the shape of the wall. Just over the couch hung a tapestry
filled with Ravens in various roles as prophets, messengers and guides.
There were Huginn and Muninn perched on Odin's shoulders, a flock
of Ravens carrying food to a bearded old man in a cave, a Raven bringing
men into being out of a clamshell. The Raven tapestry was clearly
Helga's work, a gift for Rowena.
*******
After some time spent wandering around among the books (and making
note of the small footprints that had disturbed the dust in other
places,) Mrs. Norris and I returned to my office.
The first thing I did was add "Sweep Library!!!" to my list of
`Jobs To Do.'
Then, taking a deep breath, I summoned red-and-gold. After a
moment Mrs. Norris paused in her bath and padded over to stand beside
me.
"If it is permitted...?" I asked Godric's Door.
Again, my destination remained unspoken, hidden in my thoughts.
Mrs. Norris went with me as I stepped through the tapestry.
*******
It was a small cheerful room. From the looks of things, one of the
oldest places in the Castle. As Mrs. Norris and I entered, my eyes were
drawn to the fireplace. A row of bright red and gold tiles over the
mantel spelled out "Godric's Keep."
A lively tapestry hung on another wall. It depicted a pride of
lions; a large golden-maned male watching protectively over small cubs
as they tumbled about in play, a group of lionesses teaching the young
to hunt, the whole family of great Cats dozing peacefully together in
the sun. Another of Helga's gifts.
A large, battered wooden desk stood against another wall near a
sunny window. Someone had carved a small but complex geometrical pattern
onto the desk's surface with a little knife. Books and scrolls were
stacked haphazardly all over the desk, except for a mostly cleared space
in the center.
Against the wall opposite the desk, a weathered wooden door was
creaking in a faint breeze. Slowly, I pushed it open. The hinges
squeaked noisily.
Wishing I'd brought along some oil, I stepped through.
Godric's Keep was on a ground-level floor. It opened directly onto
a wide, grassy yard that I'd never seen before. The yard was surrounded
on all four sides by high stone castle walls.
I stared. A Secret Room with a Yard? I could not help but notice
that the grass needed cutting.
The sky above was blue and bright with white, soft looking clouds
overhead. Whispers of powerful magic still lingered faintly in the air.
Dueling magic, battle-magic.
Only butterflies lived here now. There was a gentle breeze,
whispering through the grass. But I could almost hear the clash of long-
ago weapons, almost feel the hot, dry wind of spells.
There were faint echoes of the eager young voices of long-ago
students and the deeper, encouraging shouts of an older wizard, their
teacher.
Eyes wide with wonder, I stood still in the practice-yard for an
uncounted length of time, lost in the old magic while Mrs. Norris
stalked through the grass and chased butterflies.
*******
Silvery hair and beard bright in the starlight, Dumbledore sat at
the edge of his favorite dock, paddling his feet in the lake.
"Headmaster...!" I gasped, emerging from red-and gold to stumble
down the dock towards him.
Mrs. Norris padded after me, a good deal more calmly.
"Hello, Argus," Dumbledore said. "It's a lovely evening, isn't
it?"
"Very nice..." I said, dazed with the power of the Castle's Secret
places.
Their magic still clung to me, along with the Library dust and
bits of chaff and grass seeds from the yard by the Keep. There were
golden butterflies fluttering around my head.
I had never spoken of the Secrets to anyone. Now, I thought that I
might be crushed by the weight of my silence.
"Headmaster..." I repeated, helplessly.
If Minerva was here, then she would put her arms around me. She
would say something warm and sharp and clever. She would be able to put
my feet back on the ground again where they ought to be. I missed her so
much.
"Severus seems to be feeling better," Dumbledore remarked, quite
gently.
He tugged me down to sit on the dock beside him, much as he had
done with Potter when the poor boy was frightened and distraught.
"Yes, though his ribs are still bothering him," I said. "At least
he took some Pepperup and got over the cold he insisted he never had in
the first place," I added, with a nervous wave of my right hand.
Dumbledore noticed my bruised knuckles. He looked at me with
concern.
"Oh. That's nothing, just Azoth's basket," I said, vaguely.
Unlacing my boots and putting them on the dock beside me, I rolled
my breeches up and dangled my feet in the lake as the Headmaster was
doing. The cold water felt good against my sore instep.
Mrs. Norris was peering cautiously over the edge of the dock,
looking for fish. It was hard for me to stop yawning and I couldn't seem
to hold my body up straight. After a while, when I grew calmer, I began
to realize that I was very tired.
"If you don't get yourself to bed soon, then Mrs. Norris and I
will have to fish you out of the lake," Dumbledore said, wryly.
"I suppose I'll need an earlier start than ever," I murmured. "All
that grass to cut and that dusty floor, not to mention all the plumbing
I haven't gotten around to yet."
I yawned. "And Snuffles thinks Myrtle's bathroom could do with
some new paint, and soon enough Hagrid will leave too, and there'll be
Fluffy to clean up after..."
"Argus," the Headmaster said, quiet and amused. "Relax. Try to
rest. You don't have to do everything all at once. There's plenty of
time. The summer is only just beginning."
END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN
Author's Notes:
Dumbledore's last line in this chapter is pure wishful thinking on my
part. How I wish the summer was only just beginning! Instead, the school
year is starting. :-(
alla: Thank you!! Wow!! I'm really honored by your comments!!
Yes, you remembered right, Snape is my second-favorite character. But I
like all the characters, so I try hard to respect the ones that I write
about. And I am very fond of Sirius. Like you, I think of both Severus
and Sirius as flawed but essentially good men.
(Filch wants me to add that, while they are essentially good, they STILL
can't be left alone with each other for five minutes before they start
squabbling like a pair of brats. "Quite disgraceful, really.")
Like you, I wish that Rowling would develop Slytherin House more. All
the Slytherins can't be bad...
Thank you for the very kind words on Fluffy, Mrs. Norris and her
kittens!
Besnaped: Thank you!! Snape is over his cold, but still dealing with his
bruised ribs.
minnowgirl: Thank you!! Your observation, that the first thing Filch did
after Sirius and Minerva, the "reckless Gryffindors," told him to be
careful, was set off one of Snape's curses, made me laugh!
aniwda: Thank you!! Fluffy is fond of Sirius. The Cerberus considers
both Fang and Snuffles his playmates, even if Snuffles occasionally goes
about on two legs instead of four.
AET: Thank you!! I know what you mean about ff.net sometimes giving you
trouble... I've never forgotten the time the site started telling me
that I didn't exist.
Snape was annoyed at Filch for snooping, but he wouldn't have let his
curse do anything permanent to the caretaker. Snape was even kind enough
to remove the curse... after Filch's hand had been rapped about four or
five times.
What do I feel is at the crux of Snape and Black's dislike for each
other? I doubt that either one of them could say after all this time.
Probably, it isn't any one thing but a combination of many things. It's
easy to imagine jealousy being a part of the problem. Snape probably
envied Black's good looks and his close circle of friends. Black may
have envied Snape's apparent total disregard for other people's opinions
of him. There were pranks, probably on both sides. Bullying, probably
on both sides. Years of slights and insults and revenge followed by more
slights and insults and revenge. A pair of personalities (maybe both
with self-esteem problems) who simply rubbed each other the wrong way.
I see them trying to get along now because a man whom they both deeply
respect has asked it of them. And, it's for the sake of a cause that's
bigger than both of them. Snape might see having to tolerate Black as
part of his atonement. Black is beginning to realize that the Sneaky,
Greasy Git is a useful man to have at your back, (even if he's over on
the other side of the room pretending to be your enemy.) Of course
neither one of them sees any reason to be polite to each other as they
try to get along...
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, if Myrtle had something useful to do around
the Castle she'd feel more cheerful.
(Lately, I've been wondering what House Myrtle was in. I think she was
probably a Hufflepuff. I wonder if the Fat Friar would take her on as an
Apprentice?)
The magic mirrors would be easy enough to fix or install, but the
paperwork would slow things down. Any repairs/improvements/additional
mirrors to be put up or done in Myrtle's Bathroom would probably have to
be approved by a number of people before Filch could start working.
I liked Sirius's line about Snape making him feel redundant too!
Arthur might say "aren't you clever" to a real Muggle in a genuine
Muggle workshop but I don't see him as an insensitive person. It's
normal and healthy for a Muggle to lack magic. A Squib is a defective
wizard, so Arthur would see the tragedy and feel uncomfortable.
It would have been hysterical to have Sirius witness Filch bullying
Snape into taking the Pepperup. Unfortunatly, Snape would have
considered that Unforgivable.
"Don't torture yourself, Snape, that's my job." That made me laugh! So
did the image of Argus as an overgrown house-elf!
Yes!! Hufflepuff Power!!
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Snape will keep insisting that he did not
have a cold. He did NOT!! And if anyone asks him why the Pepperup worked
then, he will simply fold his arms and glare.
Mysterious Unsigned Reviewer: Thank you!! Your Sleeping Beauty analogy
was funny!
Andolyn: Thank you!! Yes, Argus's reasons for wanting to cheer up Myrtle
aren't all altruistic ones.
Poor Snape, he's never going to be an easy patient, no matter what his
ailment is.
a Harry Potter fan-fic
by Ozma
A sequel to "Squib Puppet"
Chapter Eleven: Secret Chambers
Everything really belongs to J.K. Rowling
Professor Severus Snape had smoke coming out of his ears. Both
literally and figuratively.
"You're a firm believer in punishment, Filch," he snarled. "And
this serves you right! You had no business rummaging about inside
Azoth's basket! You're fortunate that I used a relatively innocuous
protective spell!"
"It's called the Ferula Curse," he continued, coolly. "Azoth is
quite safe from its effects. Only a prying human can trigger the spell."
Glaring at the Professor, I held my throbbing right hand under the
cold water tap in his bathroom sink. My hand felt as if it had been
beaten across the knuckles with a heavy wooden stick.
Snape was right. The Ferula Curse wasn't that bad as far as curses
went. Compared to the curses that he usually favored it was downright
benign. The hurt was a relatively small thing compared to my
mortification.
The Professor had caught me snooping. He'd emerged from the
bathroom, having finally taken the Pepperup, to discover me struggling
to extricate my trapped arm from Azoth's basket and trying not to yelp
out loud as bursts of pain exploded across my knuckles.
At least Snape had removed the curse so I could get my hand free
of the basket. He seemed to feel that my obvious embarrassment had
evened the score between us, at least temporarily. Otherwise he might
have decided that some additional revenge was necessary. Pepperup potion
cures a cold instantly, but the aftereffects can hardly be called
"dignified."
Severus had spent all of yesterday denying that he had a cold
because he didn't want anyone to see him with smoking ears. Today, I had
quite frankly bullied him into drinking a dose of the stuff. Under
ordinary circumstances he would have been sure to make me pay dearly for
my nerve.
The cold water was making my hand numb. I turned off the tap and
gingerly flexed my fingers.
"It was you who gave me the hint about the Alchemist's Door in the
first place..." I pointed out, sullenly. "You said that Azoth and I had
helped you to find the instructions. The basket is the only obvious
connection! Did you think that I wouldn't figure it out?"
"If you hadn't come barging in here and gone nosing about in my
room would you have seen Azoth's basket and made the connection?" The
Potions Master demanded.
An honest answer would have been "probably not," but I was too
ashamed and annoyed to give him an honest answer. And Minerva's leaving
had torn my heart in two, leaving me desolate and reckless.
"Well, this is a fine thank you for my help, isn't it!" I growled.
"You admitted that you wouldn't even have this basket if it wasn't for
me...!"
"Yes...," he said, softly, dangerously. "I've been meaning to ask
you about that, Filch. Tell me. Where in the Castle did you find this
extremely fascinating relic?"
The Pepperup had done its work well. Snape's voice was as silky as
ever, with no trace of hoarseness remaining.
His dark eyes locked on mine.
Suddenly, the smoky halo around Snape's head seemed neither
humorous nor undignified. Instead, he looked diabolical. Like a bird or
a mouse trapped by the gaze of a hunting snake, I was frozen; unable to
look away or even move.
He was demanding that I speak about something I'd never discussed
with anyone, not even the Headmaster. Helga's Workroom was one of the
Castle's Secrets. Somehow, I'd always known that. Even before I knew
whose haven I'd been welcomed into.
"Where do you suppose I found it?" I heard myself say, angrily. I
didn't want him to know that he was frightening me. "Don't you have
theories?"
Snape's voice was pure black velvet. "Indeed I do. Can you take me
there, Filch? Can you show me where you found this basket of Azoth's?"
I folded my arms defensively across my chest. "That would be quite
impossible, Professor."
I thought he'd be furious. Instead, Snape showed his teeth in a
grim smile. Then he released me from his gaze. I wanted to slump against
the wall, but I decided not to give him the satisfaction. Instead I drew
myself up and glared at him.
Again Severus surprised me with a smile. But this one was
approving, quite different from the harsh expression he'd worn only
moments earlier.
"Well done, Filch. You are one of hers, indeed," he observed, not
unkindly. "Whether you were actually Sorted or not."
My anger began to fade in the face of his praise, and his evident
regard for me. Doubtless the professor would accuse me of being easily
manipulated. There are times when he does not seem to understand what
he's done to earn the esteem that I have for him.
"How did you know that the basket belonged to Her?" I asked,
giving the Lady of Hufflepuff her proper due.
"I have discovered that they worked on the Alchemist's Door
together. He asked her to keep the details of their accomplishment
hidden in the safest place that she could think of."
"He...?" I asked, confused.
"Salazar Slytherin," Severus said, a bit impatiently. "Among his
numerous other gifts and achievements, he was a noted Alchemist. And
Helga Hufflepuff could Weave many things."
Professor Snape sat on the edge of his bed. Azoth, sensing a
lessening of tension in the room, immediately leaped into his wizard's
lap.
"Helga Hufflepuff and Salazar Slytherin?" I murmured.
"Apparently, they corresponded for a while even after the rift
between Slytherin and the others." The Professor rubbed under Azoth's
chin. The tiny cat lifted his head and purred.
"Clever little demon..." Severus said, fondly, looking down at his
pet.
"Most cats are content to bring their companions dead mice and
birds as tokens of affection. And Mrs. Norris likes to bring you news of
misbehaving students."
The Professor paused to rub the cat's belly while the little tom
began happily wrestling with his wizard's hand.
"But Azoth," Snape said, proudly, "brings me the long-lost secrets
of Salazar Slytherin. Even though they've been carefully hidden away
where no one would have ever thought to look for them. Tucked inside
Helga Hufflepuff's old wool-basket, along with a packet of letters from
Slytherin himself!"
"I-I thought it was just a basket." I said, softly. "There were no
spells around it... none that I could sense, anyhow."
"A Weaver's spells are extremely subtle, Filch. I thought it was
an ordinary basket for days. Until I happened to reach inside. I
couldn't feel the bottom. And then I found the letters from Slytherin to
Hufflepuff. As I said, I am in your debt. Yours, and Azoth's."
I sighed. "Repay your debt to us by being more cautious with your
experiments, Professor. Neither Azoth nor I wish to see you harmed."
Severus responded with one of his usual caustic glares.
"Has it occurred to you that Slytherin wanted the Alchemist's Door
kept secret for a very good reason?" I continued, undaunted.
"Of course," Snape said, impatiently. "I'm sure that he had a
number of very good reasons. A Slytherin's motives are always complex.
And we have more secrets than anyone," he added, with a hint of pride in
his voice.
"Just be careful! Don't take foolish risks!" I said, with a hint
of exasperation in mine. "Don't be..."
"My own worst enemy?" Severus hissed, his anger serving to
increase the puffs of smoke that were still curling from his ears.
"The nerve...! The infernal cheek of that flea-bitten, mangy
Gryffindor lout..."
"If you freeze yourself to death or end up with ice-shards buried
in your heart, you'll only be proving him right," I pointed out.
"Professor, please don't attempt to create the Alchemist's Door
again! At least not until you understand what you did wrong the first
time!"
The Potions Master scowled. "You needn't concern yourself, Filch.
Azoth and I shall be leaving the Castle tomorrow morning. And this
experiment is one that I would not attempt to do anywhere but here."
"Alchemists have waited nearly a thousand years for a Door...
surely you can wait a little longer," I said, to console him.
With a quiet sigh, Snape nudged Azoth off his lap and stood to
make his bed. When I noticed that his ribs were hurting him, I moved to
help.
Azoth, who had started to make himself comfortable among the
tangled blankets, gave both of us a baleful yellow stare and stalked
back to his basket.
*******
That evening, after I'd stopped working for the day, I was sitting
in my office. Notes for my Door Forms were spread out all over my desk,
but I was having difficulty concentrating on them.
Professor Snape has often told me that I'm slow on the uptake, and
I suppose that he must be right. I hadn't thought of Helga's welcoming
haven as being in any way akin to Slytherin's legendary, fearsome
Chamber of Secrets.
Did *all* the Founders have Secret places of their own? Professor
Snape's manner had seemed to suggest that he thought it was possible. At
least he'd seemed to suspect the existence of the Lady's Chamber...
Well, Salazar's Chamber was a Secret no longer. And, the Lady's
Workroom was well-known to me. But what of Rowena Ravenclaw? And Godric
Gryffindor?
If I should ask their Doors to take me to their hidden chambers
what would happen?
Troubled, I stroked Mrs. Norris who was curled up on my lap.
"I know the Rules, my sweet..." I murmured. "A Caretaker should
never presume. The Castle will reveal Its secrets to me, or not, as It
pleases."
Then I sighed.
"Oh, well. I suppose it wouldn't hurt to ask, would it? The Doors
can always refuse me, if I'm out of bounds."
Biting my lip nervously, I summoned blue-and-copper.
With Mrs. Norris cradled in my arms for moral support, I
approached the tapestry.
"If it is permitted...?" I asked Rowena's Door, my destination an
unspoken thought in my mind.
Then we stepped through the tapestry.
*******
Mrs. Norris and I emerged into an unfamiliar Library.
It was a vast, airy chamber, at least three stories high. Long
narrow stained-glass windows rose all the way from floor to ceiling,
bathing the place in color and light.
The sun had long since set, but I was accustomed to the way that
the Founders seemed to be able to make time stand still in their Secret
Chambers.
Bookshelves filled every available section of the wall, accessible
from balconies, movable stairs and tall, rolling ladders. At the other
end of the immense room was an arched doorway.
At intervals in front of the bookshelves, were comfortable-looking
couches and chairs.
Rowena Ravenclaw had protected her books well against age and
dust. Their leather bindings remained clean and bright. But grime lay
thick on the floor. At first I mistook the pale dust for a deep, very
plain carpet.
"Well. This place could certainly do with a good sweeping," I
muttered.
Mrs. Norris leaped lightly down from my arms, leaving her own tiny
paw-prints on the dusty floor.
I followed her through the first chamber, through the arched
doorway and into a second chamber as vast and light and filled with
bright books as the other. It was there that I received a bit of a
shock.
Small footprints had disturbed the dust in here. Human, too big
and not the right shape for a house-elf... perhaps the size of a first
or second year's foot.
They started abruptly in the middle of the floor directly in front
of one of the bookshelves, leading across the room to a shelf on the
opposite wall and then back again, to vanish in the same spot they'd
started.
Wandering over to see where the small footprints led, I noticed
several empty spaces on the shelves there. The titles of the books that
remained were all in a language that I couldn't read.
Obviously there were other paths that led to the Secret Library of
Ravenclaw. I looked around a bit. Gruffly, I called out "who's there?" a
time or two. No-one answered.
In a small alcove beneath a stained glass window was a couch,
curved to fit the shape of the wall. Just over the couch hung a tapestry
filled with Ravens in various roles as prophets, messengers and guides.
There were Huginn and Muninn perched on Odin's shoulders, a flock
of Ravens carrying food to a bearded old man in a cave, a Raven bringing
men into being out of a clamshell. The Raven tapestry was clearly
Helga's work, a gift for Rowena.
*******
After some time spent wandering around among the books (and making
note of the small footprints that had disturbed the dust in other
places,) Mrs. Norris and I returned to my office.
The first thing I did was add "Sweep Library!!!" to my list of
`Jobs To Do.'
Then, taking a deep breath, I summoned red-and-gold. After a
moment Mrs. Norris paused in her bath and padded over to stand beside
me.
"If it is permitted...?" I asked Godric's Door.
Again, my destination remained unspoken, hidden in my thoughts.
Mrs. Norris went with me as I stepped through the tapestry.
*******
It was a small cheerful room. From the looks of things, one of the
oldest places in the Castle. As Mrs. Norris and I entered, my eyes were
drawn to the fireplace. A row of bright red and gold tiles over the
mantel spelled out "Godric's Keep."
A lively tapestry hung on another wall. It depicted a pride of
lions; a large golden-maned male watching protectively over small cubs
as they tumbled about in play, a group of lionesses teaching the young
to hunt, the whole family of great Cats dozing peacefully together in
the sun. Another of Helga's gifts.
A large, battered wooden desk stood against another wall near a
sunny window. Someone had carved a small but complex geometrical pattern
onto the desk's surface with a little knife. Books and scrolls were
stacked haphazardly all over the desk, except for a mostly cleared space
in the center.
Against the wall opposite the desk, a weathered wooden door was
creaking in a faint breeze. Slowly, I pushed it open. The hinges
squeaked noisily.
Wishing I'd brought along some oil, I stepped through.
Godric's Keep was on a ground-level floor. It opened directly onto
a wide, grassy yard that I'd never seen before. The yard was surrounded
on all four sides by high stone castle walls.
I stared. A Secret Room with a Yard? I could not help but notice
that the grass needed cutting.
The sky above was blue and bright with white, soft looking clouds
overhead. Whispers of powerful magic still lingered faintly in the air.
Dueling magic, battle-magic.
Only butterflies lived here now. There was a gentle breeze,
whispering through the grass. But I could almost hear the clash of long-
ago weapons, almost feel the hot, dry wind of spells.
There were faint echoes of the eager young voices of long-ago
students and the deeper, encouraging shouts of an older wizard, their
teacher.
Eyes wide with wonder, I stood still in the practice-yard for an
uncounted length of time, lost in the old magic while Mrs. Norris
stalked through the grass and chased butterflies.
*******
Silvery hair and beard bright in the starlight, Dumbledore sat at
the edge of his favorite dock, paddling his feet in the lake.
"Headmaster...!" I gasped, emerging from red-and gold to stumble
down the dock towards him.
Mrs. Norris padded after me, a good deal more calmly.
"Hello, Argus," Dumbledore said. "It's a lovely evening, isn't
it?"
"Very nice..." I said, dazed with the power of the Castle's Secret
places.
Their magic still clung to me, along with the Library dust and
bits of chaff and grass seeds from the yard by the Keep. There were
golden butterflies fluttering around my head.
I had never spoken of the Secrets to anyone. Now, I thought that I
might be crushed by the weight of my silence.
"Headmaster..." I repeated, helplessly.
If Minerva was here, then she would put her arms around me. She
would say something warm and sharp and clever. She would be able to put
my feet back on the ground again where they ought to be. I missed her so
much.
"Severus seems to be feeling better," Dumbledore remarked, quite
gently.
He tugged me down to sit on the dock beside him, much as he had
done with Potter when the poor boy was frightened and distraught.
"Yes, though his ribs are still bothering him," I said. "At least
he took some Pepperup and got over the cold he insisted he never had in
the first place," I added, with a nervous wave of my right hand.
Dumbledore noticed my bruised knuckles. He looked at me with
concern.
"Oh. That's nothing, just Azoth's basket," I said, vaguely.
Unlacing my boots and putting them on the dock beside me, I rolled
my breeches up and dangled my feet in the lake as the Headmaster was
doing. The cold water felt good against my sore instep.
Mrs. Norris was peering cautiously over the edge of the dock,
looking for fish. It was hard for me to stop yawning and I couldn't seem
to hold my body up straight. After a while, when I grew calmer, I began
to realize that I was very tired.
"If you don't get yourself to bed soon, then Mrs. Norris and I
will have to fish you out of the lake," Dumbledore said, wryly.
"I suppose I'll need an earlier start than ever," I murmured. "All
that grass to cut and that dusty floor, not to mention all the plumbing
I haven't gotten around to yet."
I yawned. "And Snuffles thinks Myrtle's bathroom could do with
some new paint, and soon enough Hagrid will leave too, and there'll be
Fluffy to clean up after..."
"Argus," the Headmaster said, quiet and amused. "Relax. Try to
rest. You don't have to do everything all at once. There's plenty of
time. The summer is only just beginning."
END OF CHAPTER ELEVEN
Author's Notes:
Dumbledore's last line in this chapter is pure wishful thinking on my
part. How I wish the summer was only just beginning! Instead, the school
year is starting. :-(
alla: Thank you!! Wow!! I'm really honored by your comments!!
Yes, you remembered right, Snape is my second-favorite character. But I
like all the characters, so I try hard to respect the ones that I write
about. And I am very fond of Sirius. Like you, I think of both Severus
and Sirius as flawed but essentially good men.
(Filch wants me to add that, while they are essentially good, they STILL
can't be left alone with each other for five minutes before they start
squabbling like a pair of brats. "Quite disgraceful, really.")
Like you, I wish that Rowling would develop Slytherin House more. All
the Slytherins can't be bad...
Thank you for the very kind words on Fluffy, Mrs. Norris and her
kittens!
Besnaped: Thank you!! Snape is over his cold, but still dealing with his
bruised ribs.
minnowgirl: Thank you!! Your observation, that the first thing Filch did
after Sirius and Minerva, the "reckless Gryffindors," told him to be
careful, was set off one of Snape's curses, made me laugh!
aniwda: Thank you!! Fluffy is fond of Sirius. The Cerberus considers
both Fang and Snuffles his playmates, even if Snuffles occasionally goes
about on two legs instead of four.
AET: Thank you!! I know what you mean about ff.net sometimes giving you
trouble... I've never forgotten the time the site started telling me
that I didn't exist.
Snape was annoyed at Filch for snooping, but he wouldn't have let his
curse do anything permanent to the caretaker. Snape was even kind enough
to remove the curse... after Filch's hand had been rapped about four or
five times.
What do I feel is at the crux of Snape and Black's dislike for each
other? I doubt that either one of them could say after all this time.
Probably, it isn't any one thing but a combination of many things. It's
easy to imagine jealousy being a part of the problem. Snape probably
envied Black's good looks and his close circle of friends. Black may
have envied Snape's apparent total disregard for other people's opinions
of him. There were pranks, probably on both sides. Bullying, probably
on both sides. Years of slights and insults and revenge followed by more
slights and insults and revenge. A pair of personalities (maybe both
with self-esteem problems) who simply rubbed each other the wrong way.
I see them trying to get along now because a man whom they both deeply
respect has asked it of them. And, it's for the sake of a cause that's
bigger than both of them. Snape might see having to tolerate Black as
part of his atonement. Black is beginning to realize that the Sneaky,
Greasy Git is a useful man to have at your back, (even if he's over on
the other side of the room pretending to be your enemy.) Of course
neither one of them sees any reason to be polite to each other as they
try to get along...
Jelsemium: Thank you!! Yes, if Myrtle had something useful to do around
the Castle she'd feel more cheerful.
(Lately, I've been wondering what House Myrtle was in. I think she was
probably a Hufflepuff. I wonder if the Fat Friar would take her on as an
Apprentice?)
The magic mirrors would be easy enough to fix or install, but the
paperwork would slow things down. Any repairs/improvements/additional
mirrors to be put up or done in Myrtle's Bathroom would probably have to
be approved by a number of people before Filch could start working.
I liked Sirius's line about Snape making him feel redundant too!
Arthur might say "aren't you clever" to a real Muggle in a genuine
Muggle workshop but I don't see him as an insensitive person. It's
normal and healthy for a Muggle to lack magic. A Squib is a defective
wizard, so Arthur would see the tragedy and feel uncomfortable.
It would have been hysterical to have Sirius witness Filch bullying
Snape into taking the Pepperup. Unfortunatly, Snape would have
considered that Unforgivable.
"Don't torture yourself, Snape, that's my job." That made me laugh! So
did the image of Argus as an overgrown house-elf!
Yes!! Hufflepuff Power!!
Lizard of Fire: Thank you!! Snape will keep insisting that he did not
have a cold. He did NOT!! And if anyone asks him why the Pepperup worked
then, he will simply fold his arms and glare.
Mysterious Unsigned Reviewer: Thank you!! Your Sleeping Beauty analogy
was funny!
Andolyn: Thank you!! Yes, Argus's reasons for wanting to cheer up Myrtle
aren't all altruistic ones.
Poor Snape, he's never going to be an easy patient, no matter what his
ailment is.