Wishes
By: Airelle Vilka
Chapter 3 Back in the Dungeon Room
Airelle's footsteps echoed in the dim hallways of the dungeons. She had nearly forgotten how humid and cold Hogwarts School was below ground, and shivered slightly underneath her robes. Served her right for not getting dressed properly. Nooo… instead, she had to go for a midnight snack in the kitchen. The house-elves had been more than generous, she thought, grinning as she munched absently on her Gadlee's Giggling Ice-Cream. Hogwarts had gotten a special shipment of it from Hogsmeade, and Airelle was delighted when a house-elf named Dobby had offered her a sample from the first batch. It had been one of her favorite treats as a student…
There was a sudden, loud crash not too far in front of her. Whipping out her wand, Airelle edged closer to a slimy wall and stepped forward. The noise turned out to be that of an unfortunate suit of armor, which had tipped over and was now uttering muffled but very eloquent obscenities at--
"Peeves," she said.
The poltergeist whirled around, and his beady eyes widened at seeing Airelle, standing there and brandishing the wand she'd hurt so many Death Eaters with.
"Why, if it isn't lil' Mizz Vilka!" he bellowed happily, as if she were a student again. Airelle stepped closer, black eyes shining.
"Oh, dear me, Peeves, what'll Mr. Filch think of you, upsetting suits of armor in the middle of the night?" she laughed. Boy, now this was an unexpected and enjoyable experience. She had, of course, anticipated Peeves to still haunt the school, but just knowing he could not get her in trouble anymore warmed her heart.
The poltergeist stuck out his tongue. "He'll be rottin' mad at you too, Prooou-fesser," he said, caricaturing the word on purpose. "Wandering 'round at night, and where are you headed, anyway… could it be that you're visiting ol' Severus Snape in his bedroom, eh?"
Airelle was revolted. Problem was, what was she revolted at? The idea of being in Snape's bedroom like that-- or the fact that Peeves said it? In any case, it was not a pleasant thing, and Airelle yelled, "Tacitus!" Peeves' thin, ghostly smirk was promptly clamped shut with a lock.
"Mmm—hm--mfff--"
"Ah, now that's a sound I've been waiting to hear for a while, ever since I learned charms that affected ghosts," grinned Airelle, and passed by Peeves, stepping over the suit of armor, which was still swearing profusely. Of course, there was no Charm that could affect a ghost, Airelle knew; what she had used on Peeves had been a mere Illusion. But Peeves did not need to know that, of course.
A serene smile had blossomed on Airelle's face by the time she reached the dark door of the Potions classroom and pushed it open.
"Lazy, pathetic Gryffindors…" Airelle had known that Snape often talked in his sleep, but she had to smile as she watched him slumped over his desk, uttering the same phrases he did when awake. He was not the kind to fall asleep so soon after sending a message. That could only mean one thing—he was dead tired.
Airelle wanted to shake him, but thought better of it. Instead, she slowly began to back out of the classroom, feet soft on the cold stone. She was almost out the door when--
"Going so soon?" came a very clear, silky voice from Snape's desk, and he raised his head, long black hair falling over his face. Airelle glared at him.
"Will you ever stop playing the mind games?"
"I just wanted to see if your instincts as an Auror had dulled any since you came here."
"Oh, dear, it's only been a week, and I'm already suspecting you're sleeping when you're not," said Airelle darkly, crossing over to Snape's desk and leaning on it. The stone gargoyle above the sink in the back of the room stared at them threateningly, as if they did not belong in the atmosphere.
Snape smirked and rose, robes sweeping remarkably, like fluid, as only he could make them. "I hope you remember the password," he said, walking to the nearby wall and running a long, thin finger slowly over the dusty, nonfunctioning fireplace.
So that's what he wanted me to see, Airelle thought. She did not need to strain her memory for this one.
"Open Sesame," she said, grinning. It was an odd little ditty from Muggle stories that supposedly had the power to open pathways to secret passages. Everyone in the wizarding world knew, of course, that it worked no better than 'Abracadabra,' and that is why Snape had chosen it to bewitch as a password. After all, no wizard in his right mind would think of 'Open Sesame' as the right words.
The fireplace rumbled with years of desuetude, and slowly slid open, sending dust everywhere. Airelle and Snape stood back to let it clear, and reveal a small square passageway.
"Ladies first," said Snape cavalierly, and moved aside to let Airelle (who smirked at the comment) through. Abandoning her paranoia, she stepped inside.
"Oh… my word…"
She had no idea what sort of effect the little dungeon room would have on her. Now she knew. It was like a head-on collision with a Stunning Curse. Her eyes trailed over the walls. There was the cupboard with shelves of ingredients-- the table-- the black cauldron in the middle. Airelle looked down at her feet, and realized that she had stepped into at least an inch of dust.
"This room has not been touched ever since we—" she began, looking back at Snape, who had by now joined her.
"Correct," he said. "We are still the only ones to frequent it."
"Wow…" Airelle gazed about. There were so many memories floating here that she could almost grab them with bare hands. She had never imagined that so many years after Graduation… she'd be standing here again, with the same person. But oh, how horribly ironic… how things had changed. Both of them had been through so many things, and yet now… this room had not been altered. It merely admitted them as it did in the past, when they were just two students at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And here was everything, waiting patiently for them as before-- as if it knew they were destined to return to the little room somehow--
"Does this mean," whispered Airelle, "that all the potions we had made-- are still here?"
Snape's eyes gleamed in the semi-darkness. "Yes. All fifty-- have aged wonderfully. Most of them are at their greatest potency."
Airelle's eyes widened with pleasure. "That means they can be used in the fight against Voldemort if needed!"
"Precisely," said Snape. "As long as he does not know they exist."
"Certainly," murmured Airelle, stepping further into the room and examining the empty encrusted cauldron. "So, how were your classes today?"
Snape made a sour face. "Slytherins are in top shape as usual. Gryffindors don't bother to read their assignments… Longbottom melted another cauldron, the big idiot…"
Airelle dropped a spoon into the cauldron. "Longbottom? As in Neville?"
Snape glanced at her. "Ah, so you've met him. Did he cause mayhem in your class too, or is it just Potions in which he engages in continual destruction?"
Airelle grinned. "No… well, I think he's a bit shy for a Gryffindor, but otherwise, looks like a nice boy.
Snape snorted visibly and opened the cupboard. "Nice if you mean danger-prone."
Airelle looked into space thoughtfully. Snape was not too pleasant to be around, particularly if one was a Gryffindor. So… logic stated that…
"Perhaps he's so afraid of you that he continuously makes a mess of things," she mused. Now this sounded like the Snape she knew-- bitter and so frightening that people would careen out of his way.
The Potions Master smiled oddly. "Fear is power… at least as far as students go."
"Thank you, Machiavelli," growled Airelle, and Snape began to laugh. The sound invaded her ears and swam in her mind. It was a caressing kind of laugh, so soft it was almost scary. Yes, this was definitely the laugh of the Death Eater from that long time ago in the clearing. Perhaps if Airelle had paid attention back then, she would have known who he was…
She voiced her thoughts. "That was the first time I've heard you laugh in a while."
"I don't laugh often," he replied, taking a small bottle from the shelves of the cupboard – a Dream-Well Potion – and pocketing it.
"I bet if some of the Gryffindors heard you," smiled Airelle, "they'd have heart attacks. In any case, speaking of the students… my first day went rather well."
"Did it?" asked Snape, although his voice did not convey a great interest.
"Yes," answered Airelle, suddenly remembering the dragon blood incident in their seventh year, in this very room. Only their roles were reversed. Now it was Snape who stood near the cabinet, and Airelle was next to the cauldron…
Snape caught her smile and said, "What?"
"Nothing," she lied quickly. "Just remembering… my classes today. It is so strange that both of us… are still here, after so much…"
"Well, let us hope that we remain here with our limbs intact after the Dark Lord strikes," said Snape, looking away as if he were not sure that it would really happen. Airelle stood there, not knowing what to do. Finally, resignedly, she walked closer and touched his sleeve.
"Don't worry," she murmured. She did not expect Snape to look at her, and he did not. "At least we shall not have to wonder what had happened to one another anymore. Like you said… whatever comes, we face it. And you know… I am sure we shall overcome it."
But then, she looked away, too. It had seemed like a good sentence, when they stood there, as they did years ago, in the little dungeon room. But inside, Airelle had to admit to herself… that she was not really sure of her own words.
To be continued…
