36. Family Ties
Friday morning at breakfast Ella received two letters by owl post. The first looked as though it had traveled a great distance, and when she opened it, she realized it had. Her uncle had written her at last—and he had arranged a way for the to communicate with more than glances and nods. She smiled and turned to the owl, who had perched on the handle of the pumpkin juice.
"I'll write my answer this evening—would you like to wait in the owlery until I need you? They keep it very nice."
The owl bobbed its head and flew away with the last of the school owls. Ella opened the second letter, and when she had read it, grinned. Professor Snape had asked that she remain after Potions class, conveniently the last one she had that day. She looked up at the head table and nodded at him, and then went back to finishing her breakfast before anyone noticed her distraction.
Classes that day went slowly. In fact, they crawled by. When the time for Potions finally came, she was nearly twitching with impatience. It was a challenge to sit quietly on a stool and wait for Professor Snape to arrive.
XxX
His entrance to the classroom was heralded by the slamming of the door against the wall. He swept to the front of the room and stood looking down his long nose at the wide-eyed children.
"This is the official beginning to your instruction in the art and science of potion making," he said in a low silky voice. "This is a subtle art, and one in which many fail to grasp the finer details. Potions has nothing to do with the power you can wield through your wand, and everything to do with the power of your mind. There is little that your other professors can do that I cannot duplicate with potions, and often my results will be much more effective. It is quite possible, with practice and application to bottle fame, brew glory, and even put a stopper in death." His words were met with a hushed and reverent silence. He waited until the silence was broken by a single pen scratch as one Ravenclaw began to transcribe his words from memory. He was followed by every other member of first year Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff as they raced to record his speech before they forgot it.
He took roll from his list of names, smirking as younger siblings of older students trembled lest they awaken his wrath. No one drew his displeasure, though, and he was forced to assign the day's potion without first proving anyone's ignorance. It was a disappointment, but he was certain he would make up for it later.
As students worked to gather ingredients, he turned from the board back to the desks. "Miss Dafydd, please come here," he commanded. When Ella approached the front of the room, he gestured to a table holding bowls of prepared ingredients.
"Until you are capable of holding a knife and using it without damaging yourself or others, you will gather your ingredients here. There are five preparations of each ingredient, only one of which is done correctly. The others are either ruined materials from other classes or preparations for other potions. Your task is to select the correct materials, using the directions given to the class. Then you will brew the potion using your materials. If you are correct in your selections, your potions will turn out. If your choice is wrong, you will experience the same disastrous results as your classmates." He left her at the table of ingredients, and began his tour from cauldron to cauldron, pointing out errors, breathing down necks, and catching those foolish enough to cut corners or daydream.
When time was up, each student bottled his or her potion, labeled it for grading, and cleaned up materials and supplies. He assigned a two-foot long parchment on the history and uses for the simple potion they had made, and dismissed the class.
XxX
Ella waited while everyone cleaned their worktables and packed away supplies. Vivianne looked over at her as she sat with her bag packed, making no move to leave the classroom.
"What's up?" she asked, a bit of concern in her voice as she remembered yesterday's events after Defense class.
"Nothing," Ella replied. "Professor Snape asked me to stay after class to speak with him. I'll meet you when we're done."
Vivianne didn't answer as she followed the rest of the class, who were eager for the weekend to begin, but she looked back on her way out the door. As their footsteps faded away, Ella stood and walked to Snape's desk. He regarded her with a measuring glance, then stood, while she looked up at him.
"Follow me," he said, and left the classroom through a side door. When she walked through the door, Ella found herself in Snape's office. He gestured to a pair of chairs drawn up to a table loaded with food.
"I took the liberty of ordering tea," he said.
Ella sat and waited while he poured tea and motioned to the pile of sandwiches. She took a few, set them on a plate, and smiled shyly when he handed her a cup of tea.
"Thank you, sir," she said quietly.
"When we are in private, you may address me as your uncle," Snape remarked.
"Of course, sir—Uncle Severus," Ella said quickly.
"How has your first week gone?" Snape asked, clearly at a loss as how to start the conversation between them, Ella realized with a guilty start. What would her elocution instructors say if they knew she had let things begin so awkwardly?
"It has been interesting, Uncle Severus," Ella said, bringing back to mind all the rules she learned in school on the art of conversation: Discuss subjects you are familiar with, don't complain about anything, but don't lie. Make observations that invite the other to respond. Allow the other's interest or disinterest guide the topic of conversation.
"How so?" he asked, lifting an eyebrow.
"Well," Ella began, "disregarding completely the events of last weekend, which took everyone by surprise, I find that I am almost constantly finding something new and fascinating that those raised in the Wizarding world take for granted."
"What was your latest discovery?"
"This morning, one of the girls was asking the mirror for fashion advise, and not only did it answer, but two portraits joined in the discussion. In the Muggle world, hearing your mirror talk, not to mention debating with your wall hangings as to the advisability of wearing your hair styled a certain way, is certifiablebehavior."
"I see. Finding that sort of behavior acceptable would be unusual for you. Tell me, have you found friends, or at least allies here at Hogwarts?" Snape asked.
"Yes, there are several girls I am willing to pursue friendships with, and I am always around people, either my roommates, or my classmates, or my Housemates." Ella couldn't help the exasperation that slid into her voice at the reminder of her lack of solitude.
"Finding it a bit much, are you?" Snape smirked, but Ella felt it was more in empathy than derision.
"I am accustomed to solitude," she replied diplomatically.
Snape set down his tea and looked closely at Ella. She felt like squirming under his gaze, but forced herself to sit still. He seemed to be examining her, though for what, she didn't know. When he finally spoke again, she jumped a little in surprise.
"You have had enormous changes to you life in the last few weeks. Do you feel yourself accepting them, or at least growing accustomed to them?"
Ella nodded silently.
"That is good, for you see, I need to tell you some things that are going to possibly throw you off-balance again, and you deserve at least to have the chance to find your footing between shocks."
"What is it, Uncle Severus?" Ella asked worriedly.
"You will have to be patient for a little while, because I must begin many years ago. You see, at the beginning of this age, not long after the Norman invasion of England and Wales, a powerful Wizarding family was betrayed by their lord and king. At the time, there was no division between the Wizard and Muggle world; that schism occurred with the Spanish Inquisition. So, the women of this family gathered what they could carry and went to find a life where they could be free."
"Wait, Uncle Severus," Ella said, with a sense of déjà vu, "I know this story. They were the Dafydds, and they found refuge at a forgotten manor, which was made even more secure. When the time came, The Lady passed her title, and the rule of the Dafydds to the first girl child born in the refuge." Her voice trailed off at the look on her uncle's face.
"Who has been telling you these things?" Snape asked calmly, though Ella rather thought there was an implied threat to that unknown person.
"No one," Ella said. "This is going to sound completely crazy, but ever since I got out of the hospital, I've been having dreams. They're vivid, like no dream I've ever had, and I'm not in them. I'm just watching, like someone's playing a movie in my mind."
"What else have you dreamt?" Snape asked.
"It seems to be on a repeating loop. I dream of the Lady, and then there are eight others, of whose lives I've witnessed parts. Not every night, but at least three times a week, I dream of them. Am I going mad? What does it all have to do with me?" Ella asked in growing worry.
"My grandmother was the last Dafydd. My mother would have held the title, whether or not she wanted to, but she died before she was faced with that choice. Your mother is a Squib, so she could not hold the title. You are the first-born daughter of the line of the Lady, and you are the Dafydd. You are the Lady, and have been since your birth," Snape said in all seriousness.
Ella knocked her chair over in her rush to stand. "Hold on, wait just a moment, here. I know that there are a lot of things that I was taught were nothing and fairy tales are real in your world, but the lost princess found in vile servitude is still just a story. It can't really happen."
"Of course," Snape agreed. "My Lady."
"Stop that!" Ella cried, "Don't call me that!"
"It is the truth, and you cannot change it. Being the Lady isn't something you have a choice about. You are or you aren't. You are the Lady Dafydd, and you need to get used to the idea, for you have a responsibility to your family. You need to know now, because you are going to begin receiving tributes soon, and you need to know why people are sending you things."
"Tributes?" Ella asked weakly.
"The oldest female in every family will send you a tribute fitting their position and place. You'll have to acknowledge each one with a letter and a token of your own."
"Uncle Severus, you have lost your mind! That's all there is to it. There can be no other possible explanation. If that is all, I need to go."
She stood and left the room, her frustration and denial overwhelming her fear of being rude or angering him. On the way out the door, she heard him say quietly,
"Farewell, my Lady." Her only response was to slam the door behind her.
XxX
Ella made her way back to her room, but it was not the refuge it normally was. Laying on her bed was a wrapped package. When she opened it, she found a tapestry rolled in a tube. When she laid it out flat on her bed she gasped, for it was a living tapestry, like the ones she'd seen at Tea and Crumpets. A note fluttered to the bed, and Ella picked it up with shaking hands.
For the Lady, it read, may this offer you warning, entertainment, and the enjoyment of beauty. It was signed Rhan Ymlaen.
Ella couldn't believe it. Rhan was connected to the Dafydds? It did explain her interest in Ella's name, when Shelly introduced her, but why hadn't she said? Ella left the tapestry on the bed and dropped onto the couch, unable to think any more about the events of that afternoon.
A/N: I am glad to see so many people reading my story. This is by far the longest piece of fiction I've ever written, and it's really fun to post it and see that people are paying attention. Thanks to those who take the time to give feedback, it does encourage me to continue on.
p.s. I'm sorry for the delay in posting, I got this all beta'ed and then forgot to put it up on the web for you. How rude. Please forgive.
-Krew