The gates of Hogwarts let me in without prompting, and the wards hum against my skin. Oddly enough it feels like coming home. The Castle stands tall and proud, looking out over the lake as it always has. A new tower has been added but otherwise it looks just the same.
Walking up the gravel path I do notice some changes. Some parts of the Castle appear to be newly repaired, others are blackened by fire. There's a new cottage where Hagrid's hut used to be, the Whomping Willow appears to be half as large as it was and I think I spot some new greenhouses towards the Forest.
Minerva is in her office and appears completely shocked to see me. I must admit it's been a while. The fact that the gargoyle let me up without a password might have contributed, too. She looks old and worn, haggard, the lines in her face more pronounced than before. I suspect the dwindling Ministry budgets have hit Hogwarts hard, too.
"Minerva." She's moments from hexing me or bursting into tears, I can tell. "Aren't you happy to see me?" I raise an eyebrow at her.
She pounces, wrapping me in a fierce hug. "I can't believe it, Severus! All these years without a visit?"
"If you'll berate me for visiting now that I am here, I might as well leave," I say dryly.
To my relief she releases me. "Oh pish, Severus. Hold on, I have a Lagavulin here somewhere." She rummages in the drawers and brings out an unopened bottle of Scotch, and two glasses. I settle in the other chair and we toast to life and the superfluousness of everything, just as we used to do when we were colleagues.
"You're here for a reason, I suppose, not just to see an old friend."
That word sends a shiver through me. I didn't think I had any, save perhaps Lucius. "Unfortunately you're right this time, although of course owls fly both ways, you know. I come from a visit with Augusta Longbottom who told me this is where I should go to find more clues to an issue I've been trying to figure out for some time."
She nods, and I briefly describe the situation. The Hair-ologist and how nobody seems to recognise her, let alone remember her afterwards. Her work, how she seems to help people reach what they truly want or need. The few clues I have gathered so far.
Minerva sits still, attentive. She was always sharp and had a very different perspective on things, compared to myself or even Albus. After a while she nods slowly. "This is odd, Severus. It seems as if I should know more about this person, especially if you say you think she was at Hogwarts while you were a teacher. I haven't heard about this Hair-ologist before so unfortunately I cannot add any more pieces of information to the puzzle."
I ponder this. "Yes, but perhaps you know about the other issues? The Fae and a Geas powerful enough to make a whole country forget about someone? What could be the conditions Augusta spoke of?"
Minerva frowns and taps her fingers against the arm of the chair in a rhythm I well remember from countless staff meetings. "A Geas… that's a serious matter. She must think it important if she shares this kind of information with you, it's usually simply not done."
I nod, clearly hearing the capital letters on the last two words in that sentence. Of course Minerva would be a member of the coven, anyway.
"Anyway. Bargaining with the Fae is always hazardous. We have a reasonably good relationship with them these days, but it wasn't always so. They respect the Coven, but if some members are striking their own deals with them I fear the balance may crumble."
That makes sense, in its own way, and I say so. Meanwhile, a Hogwarts elf pops into view to deposit a tray of sandwiches and tea on the desk.
"Headmaster and Headmistress must eats!" she – Tinsel? I think I recognise her – squeaks before disappearing with a quiet pop.
"Headmaster?" Minerva says, the corner of her mouth quirking up. "Well, you'd be welcome to it, lad. We'd best do as she says or she'll soon pour out all my whisky."
"The horror," I intone but dig in nonetheless.
Minerva picks up a cucumber sandwich and takes a bite. "Fae… Let's see now. I was involved in a bargaining attempt with them a long time ago. You always have to have three witches when dealing with the Fae, they will never listen otherwise. I'm sure you are familiar with the three archetypes?"
Well, obviously. I'm not completely daft. "The Mother, Maiden, Crone. So the three witches I'm looking for will fulfil these three roles."
Minerva smirks, a most unsettling expression. "Yes, although in some cases the interpretation of the roles will be rather… creative. But yes. And you said Augusta mentioned the Fae Queen requiring a concession each from them? That might be a clue, too. What does your Hair-ologist have that isn't a curse?"
I ponder this. "The curse and original geas may be that she would be forget and be forgotten by everyone, and that she would lose her sight and looks. The Glamour I mentioned? It looks strange, it's not something she has cast herself."
Minerva sits up straighter. "Well, that works, that's three things if you squint and look at it sideways. So what concessions would she have been granted?"
"Well, somehow her line of work is tied to it, the way she can use hair to tell what someone needs, and to deliver it via shampoo, of all things." It still irks me that I cannot work it out. What is she doing with her hair products, what magic does she have access to?
"Not so foreign to a Potions Master, I would guess," Minerva says with a shrug. "What else, then? There is usually a way to break or dispel the geas. This isn't your usual geas where you would die if you break it, rather it's a way to deliver a country-wide curse without draining the caster too much. The ones directly affected would die or fall ill if they break it, such as Augusta who probably knew the identity of the witch beforehand and also knew of the geas being cast, but you aren't one of the original targets in that way."
It's odd but seems to follow its own logic, so I'm inclined to believe Minerva is right. "Would the way to break it be the third concession, then? If her sensing needs and delivering cures are the first two, I mean."
She shrugs. "Maybe. I'm not sure but it seems to fit."
I nod and shift topics, asking about Hogwarts and her own work and health. Some time later another thought strikes me. "Augusta said to talk to those who don't talk anymore, when she sent me here."
Minerva sits still for a long moment and thinks. "Could it be the portraits? They aren't among the living anymore even if they're quite talkative at times, especially when I try to get through the Ministry bureaucracy."
I do not wish to speak to Albus but perhaps I have to. However, even as I rise to face his portrait he's left his frame, I only see the lilac edge of a robe disappearing from view. Another portrait inhabitant nods at me, however, one of the few on my side that horrible year when I inhabited this office. "Headmaster Black."
"Headmaster Snape, about time I say."
"That is, luckily, not my title anymore."
Phineas Black sniffs. "So you think. I guess you're not back to reclaim your office, then?"
I shake my head. Minerva looks oddly disappointed. "Not in a long while, Phineas. I'm here about a young witch under a geas, would you happen to know anything about her?"
The old Headmaster frowns. "No, I cannot say I've heard of a geas."
Dilys Derwent approaches from another frame. "I have. The Fae don't cast them just like that, someone must have offered a whole lot for them to accept."
"A whole lot… of what?" I ask. Fae aren't my area of expertise.
Dilys shrugs. "Magical power, usually, or young men to use as mates. Sometimes smaller things, such as magical items or foodstuffs, but I doubt that would be enough for a geas of this magnitude. The Fae are fickle, usually. You said this has gone on for years? It would need continuous upkeep, you cannot just set and forget a geas this big."
I nod. "At least three years, by the looks of it. Potter and his wife, formerly Miss Weasley, confirmed it."
Headmaster Black frowns and leans forward. "Potter and Weasley… whatever happened to the third? The insufferable Muuuuu… ggleborn?" He changes what he was about to say when I scowl at him.
I frown again. A third member of the gang that darkened my last years at Hogwarts? I cannot recall it but it seems right, somehow, of course there should be three. It is no use, though, I can't remember a name or even a face to go with the name. Still, it is yet another lead.
Minerva has to work and I need to go back to the workshop, so I take my leave and once again head for the gates, this time with a slight detour to the greenhouses. To my surprise, Longbottom is there. He straightens from his plants and nods at me as I approach.
"Professor. It's been a while. How's business?" He's taller than I remember, and broad-shouldered. The greenhouses look well tended, the plants are lush and green even this late in the year and I see several sorts Pomona didn't bother with.
I nod at him. "Well enough. I went to see your grandmother today."
"You clearly are braver than I am, then. How is she?"
"Well enough, for her age. Do you have any good stock of Fanged Geranium fangs and Flutterby leaves? I'm making her a potion to help with her gout."
He nods and goes to fetch the items. As I wait I notice someone else coming close.
"Miss Lovegood?"
She tilts her head and squints at me. "Yes… Hello Professor. Good of you to step by. Have you solved it yet?"
I don't even ask. "No, I have clues but they don't add up."
She smiles, a bit wistfully. "You will, soon. If you can't, there's no hope."
Longbottom returns with the plants and refuses payment even when I offer to add it to the Hogwarts tab.
I start to head down the path to the gates, but a thought strikes me. "Longbottom… I'm trialling a potion soon at St Mungo's. The aim is to restore memories destroyed by curses or other magical means. I'm thinking of your parents."
He freezes and suddenly looks much more like the young boy who used to destroy cauldrons in my classroom. "You mean…"
I nod again. "No guarantees, you understand? But if I can, I will try."
"Thank you, Professor."
Frank and Alice were reasonably kind to me whenever our paths met while at Hogwarts. They were a few years older so it didn't happen very often, but as Prefects they did what they could to help even a poor, angry Slytherin lad.
Before I leave, Miss Lovegood calls to me again. "Professor… the geas, do you know how to break it?"
I shake my head, impatiently. It is galling, to admit failure this way.
"Oh, it's easy enough. Tell her her real name and then proceed the usual way, like in the old tales." She waves airily and disappears again behind a corner.
I sigh and turn, impatient to leave. Those clues aren't much help, and too much socialisation in one day makes me grumpy. Grumpier.
