"Never go on trips with anyone you do not love."
-Ernest Hemingway
Of all the spells Severus had learned while at school, apparating had to have been the most terrifying. He could vividly recall the Ministry official who taught him, a tall, rather sweaty, gentleman by the name of Nathaniel Widdleberg, describing the process as a simple matter of transferance of matter. Relocating your person from one spot to another, simple as.
"But what exactly happens to us when we apparate?" Severus had asked, as he and his fellow sixth-years stood on the empty quidditch pitch, awaiting their first practice session.
"Well, you travel through time and space and rematerailize in a destination of your choosing," Widdleberg replied.
"But how?" Severus pressed, his brow furrowed in agitation.
"You use your magical capabilities."
"But what exact elements actually create the action? How exactly are we transported? Can you explain it?" Severus demanded.
Widdleberg looked on perplexed. "Well, no. Much of magic is simply intent."
"Well, what if we mess it up, can't we get hurt?" Severus countered.
"Oh yes, minor splinching is common, but nothing to worry about. Have plenty of Dittany right here," he cheerfully noted.
But this did little to reassure Severus. He watched on in genuine panic as Madeline Daultry, a snobbish Hufflepuff apparated a mere foot and received a nasty splinch along her left forearm, causing the girl to double over in agony.
But if anyone else was bothered by the risk of severing their arm from their body, they didn't show it. The other sixth-years happily went along with their practice, but Severus was positively terrified. He envied his classmates' insouciance; so carefree and excited to apparate. He was convinced it wouldn't work. He'd mess it all up, split himself right in two. After an hour's practice under the hot sun, in which Severus only pretended to be practicing, Widdleberg had them all line up on one side of the pitch and practice apparating to the other side, a good hundred yards away. Severus hung back as the line formed, and strategically positioned himself at the end of the line, watching every other classmate disappear before his very eyes. When he was the final student, he stepped up, palms sweating and Widdleberg gave him an encouraging nod.
"Shouldn't we be practicing a shorter distance?" Severus asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"One foot, a hundred, a thousand, what's the difference?" asked Widdleberg.
Severus nodded but still he remained firmly planted to the ground.
"You can do it, just focus on that end of the field, visualize it and you'll be there in a flash," the older wizard encouraged.
"What if this doesn't work?" Severus asked as he watched all his other classmates happily goofing off in the distance. Widdleberg gave a smile and a nod of understanding, and put a gentle hand on Severus' shoulder.
"At some point with every bit of magic you perfom, you leave behind rational expectation and you simply have faith. Faith that you have the power, aptitude and ability to accomplish what you seek. Faith that it will all work out, no matter how impossible it seems. Now...have a small bit of faith and give it a go."
Severus closed his eyes, shaking slightly as he visiualized the end of the quidditch pitch and with a sudden pop, he was gone. Time stretched and swelled for the longest of moments, painfully squeezing his slight frame before he landed in a heap at the opposite end of the field, tumbling on his arse in front of Lily, Potter and Black.
"Nice one, Snivellus!" jeered James, looking haughty and relaxed with his arm draped around Lily's shoulders.
"Leave him alone, James," she softly chided, her face set with stony indifference, not even bothering to look Severus in the eye.
Severus stood and stomped away, disinclined to tangle with his bullies yet again, in front of Lily, no less. He strode away from the crows and only then did he let out a deep sigh of genuine relief.
He had done it, he had apparated and hadn't died.
This should've reassured him, but sadly, it didn't. That gnawing sense of doom that had filled his gut when he first apparated never completely left him and he found it bloom hot and urgent in his belly each and every time he apparated over the many years since that first time. Potions, transfiguration, astronomy, it all made perfect sense. Spell work and exact, precise measurements always resulted in exact, precise outcomes and that gave him a feeling of confidence, comfort and absolute control, one of the few things in his life that did. But apparating, just trusting your gut and having faith, always felt like such a wild gamble; the ultimate outcome felt completely beyond his control and he hated it. And this trip to Bagshodt's was no different.
Octavia was residing in Spain, which was just longer than was advisable to travel via apparition. They really should've flown by broom, it would've been safer but it also would've taken quite a bit longer and right now they didn't have the luxury of time. As it was, this apparition was a longer trip than usual given the lengthy distance and time was not being kind upon his weak, exhausted body.
Reemerging in one piece from the razor thin gap in time and space he rematerialized in a cow pasture, landing amid a group of rather fussy cattle who scattered and loudly vocalized their disapproval of the sudden visitor. Severus opened his eyes, dizzy and disoriented, but at least he had landed on his feet. Hermione hadn't faired so well.
"Hermione?" he called out.
"Over here," came her grumpy reply.
He turned to his right and followed her voice to find her waist deep in a muddy ditch, her wand tossed several feet to her right as she struggled to pull herself free.
"May I help you?" he asked.
"Just fine on my own, thanks," she groused, struggling to get a firm foothold and extract herself from the muck.
"Please," he asked, his voice soft and gentle, "let me help."
He knelt down beside the ditch and reached out his hand. She stopped struggling for a moment and simply stared at it.
"I thought you said I repulsed you," she stated matter of factly, her gaze settled sadly upon him.
He swallowed at the sight. Unable to bear to the pain brimming in her eyes and stinging his throat raw, he looked away.
"Hermione, what I said last night, it was...I should never have-"
"Save your breath, Severus. There's nothing more to say," she offered with a soft, defeated sigh, "not anymore."
She reluctantly grabbed ahold of his hand, realizing she couldn't possibly make it out without sinking even further. He was grateful to be of help.
Taking her hand, he bent forward and said, "Hang on to me and I'll pull you out."
She dutifully wrapped her arms around his shoulders while he wrapped his arms around her waist, wedging his boot against the solid soil, he gave a massive pull and pushed hard against the earth and out she popped from the thick mud. Landing atop him, the pair rested a long moment, sprawled against the damp grass, the morning sun bathing the field in warmth and light. The feel of her body against his made his heart leap within his chest. She looked up into his eyes and he into hers and for the longest moment every terrible word, all the needless pain he had inflicted upon her seemed to vanish. And for a moment, everything felt right once more.
"Cleanse your shirt," she chided with disgust, "it still reeks of her perfume."
She swallowed hard and roughly pulled herself from atop him. His eyes downcast, he could only nod in response, his chest suddenly aching as he struggled to breathe.
"We should get going, we haven't much time," she said in a clipped tone, all business, as she stood, the intimacy they just shared brushed aside with shocking ease on her part. She snatched up her wand and cleansed her clothes as best she could. He stood and followed suit, thoroughly cleaning his shirt and trousers. Once they were both moderately clean they glanced up and down the countryside, looking in vain for a house of any kind but none were to be seen.
"So where in the hell is her house?" she snapped.
Severus slowly scanned the horizon once more, and his eye caught a faint shimmer on a hilltop not too far from the field.
"There," he pointed to the delicate shimmer of light, "she occluded her house."
"Seems like a lot of trouble to go to in order to be left alone," Hermione noted with irritation.
"Her mother was murdered by Voldemort. She's just being cautious," Severus replied.
"Must be nice to hide out. Not all of us are so lucky," Hermione retorted.
She set off at a good clip in the direction of the house, eager to get this errand over with. Severus sighed, immediately regretting being so obtuse about Hermione's own profound loss. He could only watch as she vaulted ahead and dutifully followed across the long field after her.
A half hour later, they had climbed the steep, stony hill and reached the summit, a large flat vista, seemingly empty of trees, rocks and debris. Approaching the invisible home, Severus said a quiet incantation and a small house slowly rematerialized before their very eyes. Severus set about dismantling the wards, silently impressed by the thorough wand work, while Hermione watched on from the side, eyeing him with a mixture of wariness and exhaustion.
The wards finally dismantled, the reluctant pair approached the front door.
"This may take some convincing. She might be disinclined to help us and given her mother's death she may not want to let us in at all. With all these wards she's no doubt reserved and may not take kindly to strangers. So let me do the talking," Severus noted with authority which earned him a withering look from Hermione.
"I'll speak if I so wish," Hermione retorted.
Severus inwardly kicked himself for once more saying exactly the wrong thing.
He gave three crisp knocks and from deep inside the home came a muffled yet cheery, "Just a second!"
The door flew open a moment later to reveal a short, portly witch with a mop of gray frizzy hair and large eyes set within a round face, giving the old woman a look of a plump owl. She was dressed in a garish, floral house coat, fuzzy slippers and was chewing on a rather large, greasy chicken leg and eyeing her visitors with curiosity.
"Miss Bagshodt?" Hermione asked unsurely.
"That's right," she answered, swallowing and taking another large bite, "but who in the bloody hell are you two?"
"I'm Severus Snape and this is Hermione Granger."
Popping on her spectacles, which only heightened her resemble to Pigwidgeon, the old woman leaned forward and gave them each a close look, "why yes, so you are. I recognize you from the paper. I was expecting Minerva. She owled yesterday and said she would be coming."
"She has sent us in her place, she is unwell at the moment," Severus clarified.
"I see," she said, pursing her lips a moment before holding out her free hand expectantly.
"Your wands," she said plainly. "Fork them over," she commanded as she took another generous bite of chicken.
"Excuse me?" Hermione asked, looking rather put out at the abrupt request.
"I may have seen you both in the papers but that doesn't mean you are who you say you are or that you're decent people. You were a Death Eater for god knows how long," Octavia said with a pointed glance at Severus, "and you're the strumpet shacking up with Sirius Black," she volleyed at Hermione. "So if you wish to enter my humble abode, you'll let me keep hold of your wands until you leave. It's for my own protection."
Hermione's eyes shot wide with indignation and her mouth flew open to give the old bat a piece of her mind but Severus wisely intervened.
"My wand, madam," he offered, pulling it from his sleeve and depositing it in her open hand. He turned to Hermione and said, "Give her your wand."
"Absolutely not!" she hissed.
Severus took a healthy step back from the doorway and motioned for Hermione to follow suit.
"You'd have me enter a stranger's home defenseless?" Hermione demanded, her voice low yet sharp.
"She's off her rocker but she's not dangerous," Severus said in hushed tones. "If things go south, I'll get us out of here. But right now this woman is our only hope of figuring out how to fix the bond. So do as she says, and give her your wand."
Hermione's mouth tightened and she crossed her arms in defiance.
Severus sighed. "Trust me," he whispered. "I won't let you get hurt."
Hermione eyed him sadly at this and gently shook her hand as she begrudgingly pulled her wand from her back pocket.
"Too late," she softly replied with heat in her eyes as she stepped forward once more and reluctantly relinquished it.
"Excellent," chirped Octavia, "you'll have them back when you leave."
She slipped the two wands into the pocket of her housecoat, tossed the spent chicken bone into her front yard and said merrily, "Well, come in then! Mi casa es su casa, as they say here. Come, come, hurry up! Don't want all the gnats getting in!"
Hermione rolled her eyes at this as the pair entered and followed the old witch down a narrow hallway full of stacked books and boxes and into her sitting room. Every available surface was covered in lace doilies and piled high with porcelain figures, clocks, ceramics and knick knacks. A worn woven rug before the hearth was the only bare space in the small room. Octavia seated herself in a plush recliner and that left only a small settee for the pair to share.
"Please sit," she cheerfully encouraged, with a wide grin that immediately put Hermione on edge.
Severus motioned for Hermione to sit and he followed suit, their thighs touching as he sat down beside her. She sighed at this, her lips pursed in vexation at having to be sat so dreadfully near him. He didn't wish to cause her pain, at least not any more than he already had and so he immediately stood and backed away, leaning against the crowded mantle full of ceramic cats.
"Minerva was quite cagey in her letter. Said she needed some kind of information. So what exactly is it you want?" Octavia asked directly.
"Information," Severus offered delicately, hoping to tell this woman as little as possible. "On the founding of the school. We understand you have all of your mother's records and findings from the research she did for her book."
Octavia eyed him a long moment, shrewdly assessing him before stating, "You're here about the mirror, aren't you?"
Hermione shot Severus a look of surprise but Severus showed no outward emotion.
"How did you know?" he asked, his smooth voice deep and seemingly unbothered.
"I hear things," Octavia said nonchalantly, "I may be in hiding but even I get the Daily Prophet. You've all been sick at the castle. And with the battle taking place at Hogwarts, well, I put two and two together and made the guess that the mirror had been discovered or broken or both and it's been causing your illness. And here you are," she offered with a sly grin.
"Yes, we're here about the mirror," he admitted, opting for transparency. "We'd like to see your mother's research on Hogwarts' history. Original writings from the founders, anything you think might pertain to the mirror."
She nodded, and rose from her tufted armchair, "Follow me."
They followed her down a pokey hallway, just past the filthy kitchen and into a small library. The four walls had bookshelves stretching from the floor clear to the ceiling and the small room smelled of paper, ink and dust. A small desk sat beneath the only window which faced the cow pasture they had just landed in. Otherwise the room was free of furniture, an oddity for the old woman.
She shuffled towards a shelf and pulled out a small children's book entitled, The Owl and the Pussycat. Hermione recognized the title, her mother had read it to her many times as a child. She would've smiled at the memory if she didn't feel so throughly disjointed.
"My mother gave this to me shortly before her death, she told me to guard it with my life," she said solemnly. "And that should Vol-...should V-..." she paused, stumbling over his name and showing the first outward signs of anything short of sassy indifference, "should he come to take it," she said pointedly, "I was to destroy it."
Hermione reached out to take it, but Octavia pulled it back, her eyes sharp and calculating.
"You're not to take it, you'll read it here," she commanded, pointing to the small desk.
The pair nodded. Not entirely sure what they were being given.
Octavia then handed the book to Hermione. It was thin and small but extremely heavy, clearly a shrunken text of some considerable size. A tingle of magic rippled across the seemingly plain pages.
"Put it atop the desk and step back," Octavia commanded as she brandished her wand.
Hermione did as she was asked and stepped back as Octavia pointed her wand at the book and murmured a soft incantation, one Hermione had never heard before.
Suddenly the worn children's book shimmered and crackled, vibrating off the desk as it became engulfed in a blue mist. A strong wind blew around the room, whipping books off of shelves but still Octavia stood, her wand steady and her gaze focused as the simple thin book grew and thickened into a massive black leather-bound tome before their very eyes. The wind dissipated and the blue mist vanished as the text settled atop the desk with a gentle thud.
"There," Octavia stated, pocketing her wand and looking at the pair expectantly.
"What exactly is this?" Hermione asked.
"Rowena Ravenclaw's journal while at Hogwarts."
"Aren't there other records we could look at? We could parse through them ourselves and find what we need." Hermione pointed out, looking thoroughly confused.
"I do believe this will tell you all you need to know," Octavia said with an air of absolute confidence as she turned and hobbled towards the door.
"I'll be in the sitting room. Come there when you've finished," she said as she closed the door shut with a soft click and left the two in silence.
Severus sighed as he looked around the sparse room. There was only one chair at the desk and clearly they would need to sit side-by-side to read the journal. He pointed his wand at the small, rickety chair and trasformed it into a bench, room enough for the two of them. He sat on the left side and glanced up at Hermione who still stood behind him, her face set like stone.
"I do believe we'll have to sit and read this together," he gently pointed out.
She dutifully sat without a word, sitting on the far right edge of the bench, careful to avoid him as best she could.
He opened the massive tome and side-by-side they began to read, wading through fifty years worth of Rowena Ravenclaw's inner thoughts.
This is the start of wonderful things. This school will be the beginning of the very best the world has ever seen. A beacon for all to study and learn. Generations of pupils will call this place home.
He dotes upon me. He thinks I don't notice his glances but I do. Sly as a fox, he is.
I have grown a rather peculiar feeling. I do believe I have begun to fall in love with him. His brooding moods repel the others and yet I find they do not bother me so much. He is earnest, passionate, clever and funny when the mood strikes him. But what to do with such a feeling?
He loves me. He may be frightened to say it aloud, but I know. Fresh daffodils each day in my classroom, lingering glances at me across the dinner table. He seems to smile only at me and it gives me strength. I feel myself swept away in his gaze. I fear I may drown in this tidal wave before all is said and done.
I've committed such a foolishness it is painful to even put pen to paper to describe. I confessed, my very sin and soul, I confessed. He sat quietly, merely taking in my words and then he left. Now I sit with the weight of my foolishness, like an anchor pulling me to the floor of the sea. I know not how he will respond and as always, I fear I have let my heart lead me astray.
He said it. The words I longed to hear. He said them to me. He enchanted the ceiling of the Great Hall to show the night sky for the joy of seeing my astonishment and beneath those bright stars he told me. I scarcely believed such a felicity existed in this cruel world. But he has proven me wrong. For he has made me joyous, he has made me whole.
Severus looked up at this to glance at Hermione but her face gave nothing away.
Our wedding day was the picture of perfection. The diadem he gifted me that morning, exquisite. I wear it each night as I admire my reflection before tucking it away, safe and unseen. No one knows of our marriage. Our own little secret. Even our wedding bands are spelled to be unseen. But I feel it, the weight of the gold band he slipped upon my finger, and the ever present weight of his unwavering love. I am lucky beyond measure.
I grow more sickly each day. Madam Fortnoy prescribed a ginger tincture for my aching stomach but I know that to not be the cause of my malaise. I am with child, his child. I am of two hearts now and we will surely be the better for it.
Helena is beautiful. She has his eyes and mouth, and his forceful set of lungs. He dotes upon her and I. I am quite certain this is what utter joy feels like.
My dear girl is clever. Smarter than any child I've seen in many years. And yet her cunningness outweighs her immense intellect. I wonder which house the hat will see fit to sort her into. I dare say she would make an excellent addition to her father's.
It has taken me nearly this whole year to weave it but it is finally complete. A tapestry of a woodland nymph and her brooding knight. I do believe it will make a suitable birthday gift for my him, my own dark, brooding love. I do so hope he likes it.
Years of happy memories recalling the joys of teaching and parenting soon gave way to more melancholy memories.
He grows angrier with each passing day. Sullen, withdrawn. He refuses any conversation beyond the standard niceties of the day. He is pulling away from us. From me. I feel adrift, hopeless.
They're fighting again. Far more vitriolic than previously. Godric possesses a unique fortitude for engaging in endless bickering and my dearest seems only too eager to oblige. On and on they fight, about every small detail. It seems our happy quartet is no longer quite so content.
I've begged him to stop. Stop with all this talk of blood and lineage. But he won't listen. His hatred for the muggle-born students seems to grow rather than abate and I worry for what this means for us all.
This can not be. How? How could my love have grown into such a cold, unfeeling monster? Would he really have us turn away children not born to magical families? Most of my house would fall into such a category. How can this have come to pass?
Was he always this way? Did I simply not see his true nature? Or did he slowly become this? I fear I have not known his true self at all.
Severus felt a stone drop swiftly in his gut. His eyes closed a moment, as he found the bitter words far too difficult to read.
He has left us. The fight that has brewed for far to long finally bubbled over the cauldron's edge and scorched all in its path; myself, perhaps, most of all. I begged him to change his heart, to find his humanity once more but my own sharp words of rebuke were too much for him to bear. He could not remain, he said. He could not love me, he said. And now Helena and I are left here.
Hermione looked away at this, pretending to stretch her back but Severus saw her discretely wipe at her eyes. He swallowed the bitterness once more and pressed on.
I grow weak. My body idles, my mind falls into despair. And we all suffer. The students, the school, my dear friends. We suffer.
He won't return. I have accepted this. But how I long to see him, know of his state. Hold him, whisper my desperate worries into his ear and have him stroke my hair and soothe me.
If he will not come back to me, I shall at least give myself a respite.
I have created an object, something I know serves no rational purpose and yet I find myself comforted by it. It is beautiful, if I may boast. A tall, gilded mirror that reflects your heart's deepest desire. I will destroy it when the time is right, but for now this is a luxury I must afford myself, a balm to ease my suffering.
I look in it often. Perhaps too often. I wish I could hide it from myself. It would be easier that way.
Why have I been so cursed? So blighted by the Fates? Cursed to carry this wretched love deep within? It should have lessened by now, but it only grows. My sorrow, my loss. A beast of my own making. It will consume me, of this I am sure.
The castle is suffering, hiccups continue to occur. Windows burst apart, steps crack in half at the lightest pressure and the stars above the Great Hall are beginning to fade, their light and twinkle disappearing.
It can not go on like this. I must find a way to sustain the essence in his absence. Helga is far too gentle a soul to bear such a weight and Godric far too puffed a peacock to care. It falls to me. Somehow, I always knew it would.
The last passage in the journal was short, their eyes scanning it in unison.
It is done. The mirror will secure the castle's essence and be a fine substitute for our fledgling quartet, well, a trio now, I suppose. Should anyone stumble across it they will be entranced by the display of their own secret wishes, and be none the wiser to its true significance. Now, I am at peace, for I know that this castle will survive, well beyond myself and Helga and Godric and even my stubborn, beloved Salazar. Of this, I can at least be proud.
Their eyes met for the longest of moments as Severus closed the book with a thud, each unsure of what to say.
A tea whistled sounded just then as Octavia called from the kitchen, "Are you two just about finished? I've made tea."
The light from the window had faded as they each looked up to see the whole day had passed as they emerged from the sea of sorrowful memories.
"We need to get going soon," Hermione softly stated, her earlier sharpness having disappeared. She now looked utterly spent, a feeling Severus understood far too well.
Severus nodded and went to stand when suddenly the book burst into a ball of flames, causing them both to jump back from the desk and watch in amazement as the fire consumed the brittle pages and dissipate into a pile of gray ash.
Wide-eyed and shaken, they swept from the library and down the narrow hallway to find Octavia sitting in her armchair, dressed now in a paisley dress, a traveling cloak and sensible flats, a tray of tea set atop the coffee table and her suitcases packed and ready beside the front door.
"The journal...it..it-" stammered Hermione.
"Burst into flames?" Octavia asked. They both nodded. "Good," she evenly replied. "I spelled it to do just that as soon as you finished reading it. Care for some tea?"
The pair, wary and confused, eyed her with a good bit of concern.
"You burnt the journal? On purpose?" Severus asked.
"Yes," she replied, adding two sugars to her cup. "You've read it. You know all there is to know and soon it won't matter anyway. So I destroyed it...it was time."
"Won't matter? Why won't it ma-" Hermione began to ask but Octavia cut her off.
"I'm leaving soon, as you can see," she said, gesturing to her luggage, "so I don't have much time. And neither do you, from my understanding, so wouldn't you like to ask me about the bond?"
The pair exchanged a glance, and took their seats on the settee once more. Hermione was the first to speak.
"The founders created the castle and all the magic held within it by drawing from their own magic?"
"That's right," Octavia answered. "Each of the four poured a small bit of their essence into the castle itself and as long as they all stayed at the castle, the magic was sustained."
"So there was no object to hold the bond at first," Hermione stated.
"Correct, just the four of them being there was enough to sustain the magic."
"What exactly happened when Salazar left? The school didn't crumble," Severus noted.
"No, because they created the bond together, they shared the magical load, so to speak. So when he left, the school suffered slightly and had Rowena stayed strong, they most likely would've done just fine without him," Octavia answered simply, stirring her tea and grabbing a ginger biscuit from the tray.
"But she didn't," Severus said, looking at Hermione a long moment before looking back at Octavia.
"No, she suffered greatly when he left. Heartbroken, she was," Octavia answered. "She thought having the mirror would help, seeing him each day, in a way. But it ended up doing her more harm than good, poor thing wasted away in front of that blasted mirror. So with Salazar gone and Rowena greatly weakened, it was too great a magical burden for Helga and Godric to support. Things began to break, windows burst-"
"Steps cracked.. yes, we read that," Severus nodded.
"The magic gluing the castle together was faltering. Helga and Godric grew weaker. It became so worrisome," Octavia continued, "that parents were refusing to send their children, they even considered closing the school for good. It was only then that Rowena realized the bond couldn't depend upon people to sustain the castle's magic. People, she realized, are simply too flawed, too unreliable. They become sick, they move on, they die. She needed the bond to be protected within an object, something strong that could not only hold a powerful bond but weather many centuries of wear and tear without anyone suspecting it of being truly important. She was too weakened by this point to craft another object, so she used her beloved mirror. She poured every ounce of her magical essence into it and sealed it. She saved Helga and Godric and the castle itself. It has been her magic that has filled the castle for a thousand years and it would've kept on filling it had the mirror not been damaged."
Severus and Hermione sat with this a long moment, each stunned and quiet as Octavia gently sipped her tea.
"The journal just ends with her sealing her magical essence, the bond, that is, within the mirror?" Hermione finally asked.
Octavia nodded, "It's been suggested that her daughter, Helena, stole her diadem not too long after that last journal entry and she ran away to Albania. Rowena sent the Baron to bring her home, but he killed the poor girl after she refused to return with him. As you know, Rowena died shortly thereafter."
Hermione shook her head, her face betraying her agitation and weariness.
"Surely Salazar must've known what would've happened when he left Rowena," Hermione bit out, looking pained. "When he left the castle, he must have known it would've led to her ruination."
"Perhaps he was simply being selfish, thinking only of himself," Severus replied, but still Hermione couldn't look at him.
"I believe he knew what he was doing," countered Octavia, perfectly oblivious to the tension in the room. "He knew how much the school meant to Rowena and that they most likely wouldn't be able to sustain it without him. He knew it would eventually fall apart. I think he wanted to hurt her," Octavia answered simply.
"If he loved her why would he do such a thing?" Hermione demanded with fire in her eyes.
"No one knows," Octavia replied, "his journals were never found. Although he acted proud, I do believe he was a deeply flawed man...jealous, insecure...always comparing himself to Godric, never quite measuring up. So he threw himself into a quest for power and blood purity and it blinded him. Ambition can be a terrible thing. Ultimately, I believe he felt inadequate and undeserving of Rowena's devotion...beneath her, in some way, and maybe this was his way of denying himself joy. In pushing her away he was not only punishing himself, but also punishing her for loving him," she noted as she took a long sip of her tea.
"What a fool Rowena must have been. Loving him, pining for him. She would've been perfectly fine without him. Waste of her talent to make such a silly mirror in the first place," Hermione spat, her eyes trained on the floor.
"You sound like a young lady who's never been in love," Octavia wryly noted.
Hermione looked up at this, her eyes focused solely on Octavia. "I've been in love, ma'am," she countered. Sat beside her, Severus glanced at her profile and could see her jaw set tight and her body as stiff as a board, her eyes brimming with pain.
"Well then, you must know that the heart can go to great lengths, my dear. Great lengths. The mirror was perhaps a selfish indulgence at first but it proved vital in the end to the castle's survival," Octavia noted.
"Forgive me, I just find this all a bit hard to take in," snapped Hermione, as she stood from the settee and paced before the hearth, her anger growing with each passing second.
"This is just..this just all seems preposterous! Besides the mirror can't possibly be that old, I read in Hogwarts: A History it was made in the late 1890's with an unknown origin," Hermione pointed out, her face set like thunder as she struggled mightily against the plain, simple truth.
"A mere ruse to keep its significance a secret. Rowena made it herself, she was a talented witch," Octavia explained as she brushed cookie crumbs from her dress.
"Why weren't we told? We could have protected it better," Hermione countered.
"That would have been dangerous information to have out in the world. Headmasters have know for the last several hundred years that the bond existed and that it existed within an object. Surely, that was plenty of information for them to act accordingly and protect the castle," Octavia replied with a heavy dose of condescension that did little to temper Hermione's vitriol.
"Tell me," Severus interjected before Hermione had a chance to throttle the old bat, "you seemed to know right away that it was the broken bond that was weakening us. So how exactly is the bond pulling from our magical reserves?"
"Bonds are not sentient but they are far from passive," Octavia pointed out. "Many see them as magical contracts, inert, clinical... but they're not. They're powerful forces, able to exact a tremendous toll when compromised. Like any kind of organism, when injured, it looks outward to survive. The bond pulls from your magic because it is simply trying to sustain itself."
Severus nodded, feeling discombobulated. He drew a breath before asking the most important question, the only one they genuinely needed an answer to.
"So...how do we fix the bond?" Severus asked.
"Fix the bond?" Octavia asked rhetorically. "There is no fixing the bond."
"What in the hell do you mean there's no fixing the bond?" Hermione asked, her eyes narrow slits as she stared in disbelief at the old woman.
"I mean, that once broken, a bond is fractured permanently. It can not be fixed."
"So what will it do if we can't fix it?" Hermione demanded, her voice sharply rising and her eyes growing wide with worry.
"It will, as I said, attempt to sustain itself with magic from the inhabitants of the castle but as you've no doubt discovered it's incredibly dangerous to those there not to mention ineffectual in the end," Octavia answered.
"So what's going to happen to the bond?" Severus asked.
"Well, if you're foolish enough to remain at the castle, the bond will first suck you all dry of your magic, and then once that meager resource is exhausted, and there is no other immediate magic to draw from, the bond will be damaged further, resulting in the collapse of the castle. I don't know when, but most likely soon. Depends on how much magic it has direct access to. Because the thing you need to understand is, Hogwarts is as much a spell as it is a building. It is a physical manifestation of magical intent. And a spell can't last without someone or something supplying the magic."
"The castle is going to fall apart," Hermione stated flatly, her chest heaving slightly as she tried to breathe.
"Oh yes...but that should be the least of your worries," Octavia noted as she grabbed another biscuit.
"What do you mean?" Severus asked, a cold sweat racing across his skin at her words.
"A broken bond doesn't simply slowly ebb away on its own accord. Nor will physical damage, like the castle crumbling, be enough to destroy it. When the castle collapses, the bond, although damaged, will still exist. And a broken bond, especially one of this magnitude, will keep pulling and pulling magical energy."
"But what will it pull from once we leave Hogwarts and the castle collapses?" Hermione asked.
"From witches and wizards throughout Britain, of course," Octavia evenly replied. "It will pull, and pull and pull the magic out of each and every witch, wizard and magical creature in Britain and then it will spread outward through Europe and every continent and it won't stop until it sucks every drop of magic from this world."
"But when a witch or wizard's magical core is compromised, they...they-" Hermione stammered.
"Die. Yes," Octavia nodded, looking solemn.
"If left unchecked, this bond, although weakened, has the potential to kill every magical being?" Hermione asked even though she knew the answer.
"Yes."
"How long will this take?" Severus asked, his usual veneer of indifference completely vanished.
"Days, months, weeks, years. No way of knowing. It may spread slowly or rapidly. As long as the bond exits, this siphoning will be unstoppable, of that much I am certain. What has been unleashed will ravage our kind. Magic will be rooted out, that much is clear," the old witch nodded.
"So you're saying, we must-" Severus began.
"Destroy the mirror and the bond it holds, with magic," Octavia said plainly. "It's the only way to guarantee the bond will be extinguished and we will all be safe."
"But if the mirror is destroyed and the bond is done away with...Hogwarts will cease to exist," Hermione uttered, her voice choked.
Octavia smiled gently. "My dear child, it is already doomed."
"But the students, the elves, where will they go? How will they learn magic?" Hermione asked, tears springing to her tired eyes.
"Seems a silly worry at a time like this," Octavia pointed out.
Hermione slowly slumped to her knees and settled atop the worn rug, too spent to stand any longer.
"No...no, there must exist a way to heal the bond and save the school, there just has to be," Hermione said desperately.
"I have studied my mother's work my whole life. And this bond can not be fixed. It was forged and sealed by the ultimate sacrifice of the brightest witch this world has ever known. No one, not even a smart girl like you can fix this. You must accept this."
"But-" Hermione tried.
"You'd really risk the lives of every witch and wizard across the globe to save some school? Now you're the one being foolish, my dear," Octavia replied.
"Rowena gave up her deaest love and ultimately her life to save that school. Don't be so stupid. You're young, you'll find more things to be feel passionate about. And maybe someday when the ministry gets their head out of their arse, they'll build another school," Octavia consoled.
"You don't know me, ma'am. I simply have to try and save it," Hermione adamantly declared.
"No," Octavia said firmly. "You hear me? This isn't some simple charm that needs tweaking. The magical consequences we are dealing with now are far more grave than anything you've ever encountered. Even being anywhere near this compromised bond could prove deadly. The magic bound, and now damaged, within that mirror, is a volatile, powerful force. It needs to be destroyed and the castle will simply be collateral damage."
Hermione and Severus sat stunned and immobile.
"Now, if that is all, you'll have to excuse me. I have a flight to Brazil to catch," Octavia announced, the very picture of cheerfulness.
"You're really leaving. At a time like this?" Severus asked in disbelief.
"Well," she answered, freshening up her red lipstick in the hallway mirror and donning a flowered sun hat, "the way I see it, if you're successful and you properly destroy the bond, then we'll be safe and I will have had a lovely trip to Rio. If however you can't find a way to destroy the bond, then we will all be in mortal danger of a slow, agonizing death. And I, for one, would rather spend my remaining days sunning on a beautiful beach and sipping caipirinhas, than sitting around here and slowly fading away. So, if I were you two, I'd figure out a way to destroy this mirror and fast. It won't be easy, mind you, but know that if you fail...then magic fails along with it."
She set there wands down gently upon the settee. "Well, Cheerio! I hope I've been of some help!"
She grabbed her suitcases by the door and shrunk them to fit in her cloak pocket. She stepped out into her front garden and disapparated without a single glance back.
Standing upon shaky legs, Severus and Hermione grabbed their wands and wordlessly walked out into the yard, the setting sun painting the sky a softened gold and a distinct chill suddenly filling the air.
"We should return to the castle," Severus softly uttered. "Minerva and the staff need to be told."
"No," said Hermione. "I'm not going back. I can't."
"Hermione, just stay calm. We'll head back and talk to Minerva and-"
"No. You were right last night Severus. Some things can't be fixed."
She closed her eyes and disapparated without even a sound.
Severus stood there, completely alone and overwhelmed. The castle was going to crumble and take every magical being along with it and the only person in the world who he could trust had just vaniashed into thin air.
Suddenly, apparition, by comparison, didn't seem quite so frightening.