Book II, Chapter II
Delaia was, Snape noted with satisfaction, looking truly appalled. It was the reaction he wanted, the one he needed, if his impetuous young assistant had any chance of staying out of trouble. Unlike had been true at Hogwarts, her ability to cause chaos here could result in much more than a few embarrassments-it could very easily get them both killed. Not, of course, that Severus had any intention of letting things get out of hand, but he knew her, and although he needed help for his plan to work, Delaia's penchant for thoughtless action seriously worried him. She had to fully understand the type of person they were dealing with in order to insure that she did exactly, and only, as he commanded.
"I told you this was not a joke."
"I never thought it was, but I never imagined something like this . . . ," Delaia, seated on a brown velvet hassock near the fire in their empty common room, hugged her knees to her chest as if for comfort. For once, she seemed incapable of giving voice to her thoughts, which suited Severus fine. "You didn't tell this to the others," she finally commented.
Snape wondered how anyone could be that obtuse. "Of course not," he snapped. "The rumours about Augusta are bad enough; the truth is infinitely worse. No one outside the family ever knew what I've just told you. It would not have added much to our reputation."
"God, no," Delaia agreed, still looking shocked. Then, as Snape had feared it would, her expression changed as realization dawned. "But what about Valentin? If the boys just arrived here, maybe we can still save him . . ."
Snape put out a restraining hand and forced her back onto her seat. This was exactly the type of behaviour he needed to suppress. Damn it all, no wonder she had been sorted into Gryffindor! The same blind courage that had killed Potter and too many others for him to count was likely to end with her in Augusta's clutches if she did not learn. Having to be cruel to be kind was nothing new to Severus, and he set out to insure that she understood exactly their position. "Forget Valentin. Didn't you see how Augusta looked at the banquet last night? There's nothing you can do for him-and if you get any other ideas about rescuing one of Augusta's little experiments, remember that the process only takes a few minutes. Stray away from me on some foolish quest and the next time I see you, the only version of Albus you'll be able to attract will be the one in OUR time."
Delaia's eyes narrowed, "Leave Albus out of this."
"Gladly." Snape fervently meant that. "The last thing we need is for our noble prefect to get even a hint of what is going on here. Can you imagine his reaction?"
Delaia looked, if possible, even more horrified than before. "He'd get himself killed," she whispered, her eyes huge. Then, as Snape had expected, she rounded on him. "Damn it, why did you bring us here, anyway?! You KNEW what she was, and yet you dragged us here! Are you completely mad?"
Severus cut her off before the rant could really get going. "It is the only way. The other was even more dangerous-as we don't know who we're dealing with or any of the parameters of the problem. Apollo was almost killed last time; how many more risks would you have him take? At least here, we know what we're up against."
"Yes, the devil incarnate!"
Severus sighed and sat down opposite her. Sometimes he forgot just how young Delaia really was. She was so precocious in some ways, and so very dim in others. Suddenly, he felt about a hundred. It did not escape Severus' notice that he was the only one with much experience in their group. Everyone else, despite their abilities, was far too naïve to understand the undercurrents on which Durmstrang thrived, and in which Augusta had happily swum for almost a century. He didn't want to understand them himself, but he did, all too well. "You can't sum up Augusta that easily; don't try." He much preferred that Delaia did not think about the woman at all, if it could be prevented. Innocence, as he well knew, once lost could never be regained. "Just remember what I've told you, and keep away from her. Stay with me, do precisely as I tell you, and all will be well. We only really need one ingredient; others would be helpful, but I don't plan to risk anything to obtain them. You know what Tizheruk venom looks like; it smells like rotten apples-sweet but with a rancid undertone." Rather like Durmstrang, he thought. "Concentrate on that, and nothing else. Whatever you see or hear, remember-you are after one thing and one thing only."
Delaia nodded. Her face was graver than Snape had ever seen it, and for a moment he regretted again the necessity to involve her. He would have preferred to take care of the matter alone, but the vaults, if he remembered them at all well from his childhood, were extensive, and he could not risk breaking in repeatedly. Getting away with it once was chancy enough. So, he had to have help, and Delaia was the only one who could do it. The only time Augusta was certain to be away from the place was during the Triwizard events, as she sat on the panel of judges. Snape glanced at his chronometer. "They've started. We have to go."
Delaia slowly rose from her chair, quiet but with a determined air. "Right, well let's do it then."
Snape smiled to himself. She was irritating, impetuous and far too naïve for his tastes, but sometimes, she could yet impress.
The trip through the strangely empty corridors of Dumstrang took little time, as Severus used several dimly remembered shortcuts from his youth. They kept to the shadows despite not seeing anyone, but refrained from using a concealment charm. Snape wasn't sure if that sort of thing was monitored or not, and wasn't taking chances. Augusta's vaults sat in splendid isolation, other than for a few largely unused storage rooms, on an even lower level than the one they occupied. The rock took on a darker hue as they descended a narrow, winding tunnel. "God, it even smells like sulpher," he heard Delaia mutter from behind him.
"It's the hot springs; there are quite a few of them throughout these mountains. They occur naturally," Snape replied, and heard her snort of disbelief echo off the tunnel walls ahead. He smiled, a little grimly, remembering that he had had much the same reaction to the place as a child. He had wondered just how far down the caverns at Durmstrang actually went; his father, when he ventured to ask, had merely laughed and replied, "all the way to hell, boy." Severus had eventually concluded that Augusta's chambers were close enough to the netherworld as to make no difference, both in looks and in occupation.
They finally reached the curve in the wall that Severus hoped was the secret entrance he had been through once before. He had always had an uncommonly good memory-it had been one reason for his success in potions, a field requiring mastery of a huge fund of knowledge-but he had tried very hard to forget Durmstrang. Still, he was not surprised to find, when he inserted his hand into a crevice in the rocks, that the old lock appeared under his fingers. Anyone entering Augusta's labs in the normal fashion, from the main door in the corridor several yards away, would see nothing unusual. All her more . . . esoteric . . . experiments, were conducted in her inner sanctum.
Now came the tricky part.
"You had better stand back," he told Delaia curtly, and she obligingly scrambled several yards further into the gloom. Naturally, Severus expected the wards to vary somewhat from those he had seen Augusta disable so long before, but people are creatures of habit, and there was no real threat to her privacy here in the bowels of Durmstrang Institute. Her reputation was as effective a barrier as any number of wards could ever be. So, he had gambled on the security measures she had in place being at least somewhat similar to the ones he remembered noting with the awed eyes of a child. Luckily, the first two he encountered were exactly the same, and therefore easily removed. The next one, however . . .
Severus grimaced as he felt the slight sting of a thought web close around his hands. Damn! He should have expected something of the kind. Withdrawing his arm as quickly as possible from the crevice, making sure not to cut himself and leave any blood behind for Augusta to find and do Merlin only knew what with, he seized Delaia by the shoulders and roughly pushed her up the path in front of them.
"What happened-what's wrong?"
"Just GO!" Snape forced her ahead of him at a pace approaching a dead run, but it was too late. A silver net waved as if in a slight breeze at the mouth of the corridor, blocking their way back to more innocent areas of the complex, and Snape barely managed to catch Delaia before any part of her could touch it and receive serious burns. Pulling her back the way they had come, he retraced their steps to the bend in the corridor, then kept going further down into the nether reaches of the cavern complex which he and his cousins had once explored. The sulphuric lake, with its accompanying wisps of yellow steam, was still where he remembered, rising out of a huge cavern and framed by glistening stalactites suspended from the ceiling like the teeth of some gigantic beast.
The corridor dead-ended in the cave, but Snape pulled Delaia onto a tiny path skirting the water. It was slippery with moisture and sloped dangerously down toward the water's edge, but miraculously, both of them managed to keep their footing. It ended where Snape had known it would, at the entrance to a set of stairs trailing even further downward into the earth. Only the top few received any illumination from the dim light of the cavern; after that, all was darkness. Delaia gave a small sound, something between a squeak and a sob, but followed Severus into the night anyway, clutching his hand as if to a lifeline.
* * *
Apollo regarded the small boy in front of her for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. It really was too funny, that this mousy little thing should have beaten both her and the great Albus to the mark. And a Hufflepuff at that! "My God!," she said aloud, "We'll never live this down, Albus, you know that."
Albus shot her a perturbed glance, but didn't answer. Apollo decided this was just as well, as she was beginning to get over her serious annoyance at his little prank and preferred to stay in good humour, a state that would have been jeopardized by any sarcastic comment from him. Hurrying forward, she wrote her name on one of the small squares of parchment around the cup and dropped it in. "Come, Albus, let's get this chore out of the way."
Apollo kept her tone light, and resolutely refrained from glancing toward the corridor behind her, but she did wish he'd hurry. The rock fall she had arranged for her pursuers had been extensive, but it would hardly hold them forever. One of the reasons she had reacted a bit strongly to Albus' joke-not that he didn't deserve it-had been the very raw state of her nerves. Now that they had determined that Sophicles was alright, she just wanted to get out of here.
Albus dutifully complied, and the chalice glowed brightly one last time before going out. Apollo breathed a sigh of relief. She still had a problem, of course, but at least this meant there was less of a chance of getting waylaid during the course of one of the events. She hustled the boys out the door ahead of her and they started to retrace their steps, when four all too familiar figures blocked the way before them.
Great. Just perfect.
"My dear Apollo, leaving already?" The willowy blond boy in front pointed his huge red-ash wand at her and clucked his tongue.
"My dear Etienne, still using that ridiculous wand, I see. I always wondered if it was to compensate . . . for something else."
That was, of course, all it took. Not, she thought as the curses began flying fast and furious around them, that it would have made any difference what she'd said. The only way for Etienne to stay in the contest now would be to eliminate one of them, and she had no doubts whatsoever which he'd like it to be.
Outnumbered four to three, the Hogwart's trio quickly decided, without the need for verbal comment, to retreat into the chalice room once again. Apollo managed another rock fall to obstruct the doorway, with the only problem being that this also blocked their only way out. A fact that Albus pointed out as soon as the dust settled enough to allow him to speak.
"I didn't notice you coming up with any better suggestions," Apollo replied acerbically.
"Who ARE those people?," Sophicles piped up, looking like an animated statute, covered as he was head to foot in dark grey dust.
Apollo sighed. "The delegation from Beauxbatons, obviously. You saw them at the feast."
"But the one boy--Etienne-he seemed to know you."
Apollo regarded the irritating creature in front of her and wondered if it was too late to hex him. Judging by Albus' expression, she supposed so. "My cousin, Etienne de Montparnasse-charming, isn't he?"
"But what does he want?"
Honestly, Apollo thought, she really was going to hex the creature if he didn't shut up. "Just to kill me, darling," she responded truthfully.
"Why?"
"Because I once asked him too many questions."
"Gentlemen, if I may?" Albus interrupted. "It will take them very little time to find a way through that blockage; might I suggest we use what time we have to decide on a plan of defense?"
"My cousin is a dueling champion, Albus," she smiled as his expression darkened. "Just thought I should mention it."
Sophicles looked seriously worried as he tried vainly to clean his glasses on his filthy shirt. "I was never very good at dueling," he offered unhelpfully.
"No, really?" Apollo kept from rolling her eyes only by a strong force of will. "I'd have never guessed."
Albus intervened again with a question about the abilities of the other three. Apollo considered this, as the rock fall quaked from what she assumed was a blasting spell being applied to the other side. "I don't know one of them, must be from one of the lesser families." She saw Albus' expression and sighed. "I'm not being a snob, Albus, but I recognise everyone from our social set. It isn't as if I don't still see them at holidays and such." She shrugged, "But it doesn't matter anyway, as the other two are Jean-Louis and Tristan de Almarc-the second and third best duelists at the Academy respectively. We are," she summed up, "in a great deal of trouble."
The rocks quivered again as Albus glared at her. "You might have found occasion to mention before that someone was trying to murder you."
Apollo batted her eyelashes at him in what she knew to be a deliberately annoying gesture. "It never came up."
From his expression, she could see that, if they survived this, she was going to have some explaining to do. She could not have cared less about Albus' reaction, but was not at all looking forward to hearing what Severus' was likely to have to say.
Albus turned to regard the trembling rock fall thoughtfully. "Fine, we'll discuss it later."
"Ever the optimist. That's what I love about Gryffindors."
"Apollo . . . "
"Yes, Albus?"
"Shut up."
* * *
The darkness was so complete that Delaia gave up and just closed her eyes, to prevent them from straining trying to see something. Severus had ruled out the use of wandlight, as any magic might make it easier for Augusta to trace them. He was not exactly forthcoming with information, but Delaia received the impression that something about that last ward worried him-and if it worried Snape it really concerned her.
The descent down the stairway was harrowing, as it seemed to have no rhyme or reason to its meanderings, and the ancient steps were far from level, but once they reached the bottom it became even worse. Delaia kept a death grip on Severus' hand, finding him far more comforting than she would ever have believed possible. How he was finding his way she had no idea, but his steps seemed reasonably certain, and she followed him blindly across a very broken and uneven floor.
Snape stopped her just as she was about to run headlong into a wall. She guessed, after they remained there for a few moments, that he was running his hands over it, trying to find something, perhaps a latch? She hoped he would do so soon. The stench from the sulphur pool they'd left behind was still strong, although she no longer felt as much urge to gag, and the cold of the lower level they now occupied was chilling her through her damp robes. After what seemed an eternity, Snape gave a satisfied grunt and a dazzling ray of light pierced the darkness of the room as he slowly swung open a heavy door. The hinges screamed as if they had not been used for a century, which, Delaia reflected, might be the case. The door refused to open all the way despite Snape's best efforts, but they managed to squeeze through a very narrow opening into what seemed a intensely bright corridor. Delaia realized that, in fact, it was no better lit than most of Durmstrang, but in comparison to their previous situation, it seemed like heaven.
They ran up the steep incline before them, slipping a little on the slick stones, until they came to a level area at the top with three smaller tunnels branching off from it. Snape hesitated, and Delaia did not need him to tell her that his memory had failed. "It doesn't matter," she reassured him, "anywhere is better than back there."
"Technically, yes," he agreed, "but we can't afford to get lost down here and take hours to find our way out. Augusta isn't stupid-if her wards tell her two people tried to break into her vault and two strangers from Hogwarts suddenly go missing, she will certainly notice. And," he reminded her, "our names can never come up, remember?"
Delaia nodded. It was something she'd had enough lectures on from him before they arrived. Neither she nor Severus could afford to attract any attention while at Durmstrang. As neither of them were Hogwart's champions, there was no reason for anyone to mention their names to Augusta, or to anyone else for that matter. The minute they did, however, they were in serious trouble, as she was certain to wonder why two Hogwart's students had the same names as her new pupil and his brother.
"Ok, so which is it?"
Snape closed his eyes in thought, and Delaia prudently kept quiet, hoping something would trigger his memory, but it was no use. In the end, they just had to choose one, which is how they came to find themselves, half an hour later, practically crawling up a passageway that could not have been meant for human use.
"Dwarfs originally carved out many of these caves, before moving on a millennium ago when all the ore ran out." Snape's reply to her unspoken question did not cheer Delaia very much, as she could only hope that the corridor they'd taken was not going to simply peter out on them, as the last remains of what once had been a vein of some valuable ore. It was with intense relief, then, that she saw a rusty ring of metal imbedded into the rock ahead of them. It took both she and Severus tugging on it, but eventually it turned, and with it the whole face of the rock before them rolled back into the wall. Delaia was so intent on scrambling through the opening as quickly as possible, that she failed to notice the small figure in front of her. It wasn't until it yelped in alarm when she ran into it that she noticed they were not alone. She did not immediately recognise the person she had almost run down, but her eyes had no difficulty identifying the tall figure across the room who was turning to regard her in shock.
"Close your mouth Albus," Apollo said from somewhere to Delaia's left. "You look ridiculous. Can't you see that the cavalry have arrived?"
Delaia was, Snape noted with satisfaction, looking truly appalled. It was the reaction he wanted, the one he needed, if his impetuous young assistant had any chance of staying out of trouble. Unlike had been true at Hogwarts, her ability to cause chaos here could result in much more than a few embarrassments-it could very easily get them both killed. Not, of course, that Severus had any intention of letting things get out of hand, but he knew her, and although he needed help for his plan to work, Delaia's penchant for thoughtless action seriously worried him. She had to fully understand the type of person they were dealing with in order to insure that she did exactly, and only, as he commanded.
"I told you this was not a joke."
"I never thought it was, but I never imagined something like this . . . ," Delaia, seated on a brown velvet hassock near the fire in their empty common room, hugged her knees to her chest as if for comfort. For once, she seemed incapable of giving voice to her thoughts, which suited Severus fine. "You didn't tell this to the others," she finally commented.
Snape wondered how anyone could be that obtuse. "Of course not," he snapped. "The rumours about Augusta are bad enough; the truth is infinitely worse. No one outside the family ever knew what I've just told you. It would not have added much to our reputation."
"God, no," Delaia agreed, still looking shocked. Then, as Snape had feared it would, her expression changed as realization dawned. "But what about Valentin? If the boys just arrived here, maybe we can still save him . . ."
Snape put out a restraining hand and forced her back onto her seat. This was exactly the type of behaviour he needed to suppress. Damn it all, no wonder she had been sorted into Gryffindor! The same blind courage that had killed Potter and too many others for him to count was likely to end with her in Augusta's clutches if she did not learn. Having to be cruel to be kind was nothing new to Severus, and he set out to insure that she understood exactly their position. "Forget Valentin. Didn't you see how Augusta looked at the banquet last night? There's nothing you can do for him-and if you get any other ideas about rescuing one of Augusta's little experiments, remember that the process only takes a few minutes. Stray away from me on some foolish quest and the next time I see you, the only version of Albus you'll be able to attract will be the one in OUR time."
Delaia's eyes narrowed, "Leave Albus out of this."
"Gladly." Snape fervently meant that. "The last thing we need is for our noble prefect to get even a hint of what is going on here. Can you imagine his reaction?"
Delaia looked, if possible, even more horrified than before. "He'd get himself killed," she whispered, her eyes huge. Then, as Snape had expected, she rounded on him. "Damn it, why did you bring us here, anyway?! You KNEW what she was, and yet you dragged us here! Are you completely mad?"
Severus cut her off before the rant could really get going. "It is the only way. The other was even more dangerous-as we don't know who we're dealing with or any of the parameters of the problem. Apollo was almost killed last time; how many more risks would you have him take? At least here, we know what we're up against."
"Yes, the devil incarnate!"
Severus sighed and sat down opposite her. Sometimes he forgot just how young Delaia really was. She was so precocious in some ways, and so very dim in others. Suddenly, he felt about a hundred. It did not escape Severus' notice that he was the only one with much experience in their group. Everyone else, despite their abilities, was far too naïve to understand the undercurrents on which Durmstrang thrived, and in which Augusta had happily swum for almost a century. He didn't want to understand them himself, but he did, all too well. "You can't sum up Augusta that easily; don't try." He much preferred that Delaia did not think about the woman at all, if it could be prevented. Innocence, as he well knew, once lost could never be regained. "Just remember what I've told you, and keep away from her. Stay with me, do precisely as I tell you, and all will be well. We only really need one ingredient; others would be helpful, but I don't plan to risk anything to obtain them. You know what Tizheruk venom looks like; it smells like rotten apples-sweet but with a rancid undertone." Rather like Durmstrang, he thought. "Concentrate on that, and nothing else. Whatever you see or hear, remember-you are after one thing and one thing only."
Delaia nodded. Her face was graver than Snape had ever seen it, and for a moment he regretted again the necessity to involve her. He would have preferred to take care of the matter alone, but the vaults, if he remembered them at all well from his childhood, were extensive, and he could not risk breaking in repeatedly. Getting away with it once was chancy enough. So, he had to have help, and Delaia was the only one who could do it. The only time Augusta was certain to be away from the place was during the Triwizard events, as she sat on the panel of judges. Snape glanced at his chronometer. "They've started. We have to go."
Delaia slowly rose from her chair, quiet but with a determined air. "Right, well let's do it then."
Snape smiled to himself. She was irritating, impetuous and far too naïve for his tastes, but sometimes, she could yet impress.
The trip through the strangely empty corridors of Dumstrang took little time, as Severus used several dimly remembered shortcuts from his youth. They kept to the shadows despite not seeing anyone, but refrained from using a concealment charm. Snape wasn't sure if that sort of thing was monitored or not, and wasn't taking chances. Augusta's vaults sat in splendid isolation, other than for a few largely unused storage rooms, on an even lower level than the one they occupied. The rock took on a darker hue as they descended a narrow, winding tunnel. "God, it even smells like sulpher," he heard Delaia mutter from behind him.
"It's the hot springs; there are quite a few of them throughout these mountains. They occur naturally," Snape replied, and heard her snort of disbelief echo off the tunnel walls ahead. He smiled, a little grimly, remembering that he had had much the same reaction to the place as a child. He had wondered just how far down the caverns at Durmstrang actually went; his father, when he ventured to ask, had merely laughed and replied, "all the way to hell, boy." Severus had eventually concluded that Augusta's chambers were close enough to the netherworld as to make no difference, both in looks and in occupation.
They finally reached the curve in the wall that Severus hoped was the secret entrance he had been through once before. He had always had an uncommonly good memory-it had been one reason for his success in potions, a field requiring mastery of a huge fund of knowledge-but he had tried very hard to forget Durmstrang. Still, he was not surprised to find, when he inserted his hand into a crevice in the rocks, that the old lock appeared under his fingers. Anyone entering Augusta's labs in the normal fashion, from the main door in the corridor several yards away, would see nothing unusual. All her more . . . esoteric . . . experiments, were conducted in her inner sanctum.
Now came the tricky part.
"You had better stand back," he told Delaia curtly, and she obligingly scrambled several yards further into the gloom. Naturally, Severus expected the wards to vary somewhat from those he had seen Augusta disable so long before, but people are creatures of habit, and there was no real threat to her privacy here in the bowels of Durmstrang Institute. Her reputation was as effective a barrier as any number of wards could ever be. So, he had gambled on the security measures she had in place being at least somewhat similar to the ones he remembered noting with the awed eyes of a child. Luckily, the first two he encountered were exactly the same, and therefore easily removed. The next one, however . . .
Severus grimaced as he felt the slight sting of a thought web close around his hands. Damn! He should have expected something of the kind. Withdrawing his arm as quickly as possible from the crevice, making sure not to cut himself and leave any blood behind for Augusta to find and do Merlin only knew what with, he seized Delaia by the shoulders and roughly pushed her up the path in front of them.
"What happened-what's wrong?"
"Just GO!" Snape forced her ahead of him at a pace approaching a dead run, but it was too late. A silver net waved as if in a slight breeze at the mouth of the corridor, blocking their way back to more innocent areas of the complex, and Snape barely managed to catch Delaia before any part of her could touch it and receive serious burns. Pulling her back the way they had come, he retraced their steps to the bend in the corridor, then kept going further down into the nether reaches of the cavern complex which he and his cousins had once explored. The sulphuric lake, with its accompanying wisps of yellow steam, was still where he remembered, rising out of a huge cavern and framed by glistening stalactites suspended from the ceiling like the teeth of some gigantic beast.
The corridor dead-ended in the cave, but Snape pulled Delaia onto a tiny path skirting the water. It was slippery with moisture and sloped dangerously down toward the water's edge, but miraculously, both of them managed to keep their footing. It ended where Snape had known it would, at the entrance to a set of stairs trailing even further downward into the earth. Only the top few received any illumination from the dim light of the cavern; after that, all was darkness. Delaia gave a small sound, something between a squeak and a sob, but followed Severus into the night anyway, clutching his hand as if to a lifeline.
* * *
Apollo regarded the small boy in front of her for a few seconds, then burst out laughing. It really was too funny, that this mousy little thing should have beaten both her and the great Albus to the mark. And a Hufflepuff at that! "My God!," she said aloud, "We'll never live this down, Albus, you know that."
Albus shot her a perturbed glance, but didn't answer. Apollo decided this was just as well, as she was beginning to get over her serious annoyance at his little prank and preferred to stay in good humour, a state that would have been jeopardized by any sarcastic comment from him. Hurrying forward, she wrote her name on one of the small squares of parchment around the cup and dropped it in. "Come, Albus, let's get this chore out of the way."
Apollo kept her tone light, and resolutely refrained from glancing toward the corridor behind her, but she did wish he'd hurry. The rock fall she had arranged for her pursuers had been extensive, but it would hardly hold them forever. One of the reasons she had reacted a bit strongly to Albus' joke-not that he didn't deserve it-had been the very raw state of her nerves. Now that they had determined that Sophicles was alright, she just wanted to get out of here.
Albus dutifully complied, and the chalice glowed brightly one last time before going out. Apollo breathed a sigh of relief. She still had a problem, of course, but at least this meant there was less of a chance of getting waylaid during the course of one of the events. She hustled the boys out the door ahead of her and they started to retrace their steps, when four all too familiar figures blocked the way before them.
Great. Just perfect.
"My dear Apollo, leaving already?" The willowy blond boy in front pointed his huge red-ash wand at her and clucked his tongue.
"My dear Etienne, still using that ridiculous wand, I see. I always wondered if it was to compensate . . . for something else."
That was, of course, all it took. Not, she thought as the curses began flying fast and furious around them, that it would have made any difference what she'd said. The only way for Etienne to stay in the contest now would be to eliminate one of them, and she had no doubts whatsoever which he'd like it to be.
Outnumbered four to three, the Hogwart's trio quickly decided, without the need for verbal comment, to retreat into the chalice room once again. Apollo managed another rock fall to obstruct the doorway, with the only problem being that this also blocked their only way out. A fact that Albus pointed out as soon as the dust settled enough to allow him to speak.
"I didn't notice you coming up with any better suggestions," Apollo replied acerbically.
"Who ARE those people?," Sophicles piped up, looking like an animated statute, covered as he was head to foot in dark grey dust.
Apollo sighed. "The delegation from Beauxbatons, obviously. You saw them at the feast."
"But the one boy--Etienne-he seemed to know you."
Apollo regarded the irritating creature in front of her and wondered if it was too late to hex him. Judging by Albus' expression, she supposed so. "My cousin, Etienne de Montparnasse-charming, isn't he?"
"But what does he want?"
Honestly, Apollo thought, she really was going to hex the creature if he didn't shut up. "Just to kill me, darling," she responded truthfully.
"Why?"
"Because I once asked him too many questions."
"Gentlemen, if I may?" Albus interrupted. "It will take them very little time to find a way through that blockage; might I suggest we use what time we have to decide on a plan of defense?"
"My cousin is a dueling champion, Albus," she smiled as his expression darkened. "Just thought I should mention it."
Sophicles looked seriously worried as he tried vainly to clean his glasses on his filthy shirt. "I was never very good at dueling," he offered unhelpfully.
"No, really?" Apollo kept from rolling her eyes only by a strong force of will. "I'd have never guessed."
Albus intervened again with a question about the abilities of the other three. Apollo considered this, as the rock fall quaked from what she assumed was a blasting spell being applied to the other side. "I don't know one of them, must be from one of the lesser families." She saw Albus' expression and sighed. "I'm not being a snob, Albus, but I recognise everyone from our social set. It isn't as if I don't still see them at holidays and such." She shrugged, "But it doesn't matter anyway, as the other two are Jean-Louis and Tristan de Almarc-the second and third best duelists at the Academy respectively. We are," she summed up, "in a great deal of trouble."
The rocks quivered again as Albus glared at her. "You might have found occasion to mention before that someone was trying to murder you."
Apollo batted her eyelashes at him in what she knew to be a deliberately annoying gesture. "It never came up."
From his expression, she could see that, if they survived this, she was going to have some explaining to do. She could not have cared less about Albus' reaction, but was not at all looking forward to hearing what Severus' was likely to have to say.
Albus turned to regard the trembling rock fall thoughtfully. "Fine, we'll discuss it later."
"Ever the optimist. That's what I love about Gryffindors."
"Apollo . . . "
"Yes, Albus?"
"Shut up."
* * *
The darkness was so complete that Delaia gave up and just closed her eyes, to prevent them from straining trying to see something. Severus had ruled out the use of wandlight, as any magic might make it easier for Augusta to trace them. He was not exactly forthcoming with information, but Delaia received the impression that something about that last ward worried him-and if it worried Snape it really concerned her.
The descent down the stairway was harrowing, as it seemed to have no rhyme or reason to its meanderings, and the ancient steps were far from level, but once they reached the bottom it became even worse. Delaia kept a death grip on Severus' hand, finding him far more comforting than she would ever have believed possible. How he was finding his way she had no idea, but his steps seemed reasonably certain, and she followed him blindly across a very broken and uneven floor.
Snape stopped her just as she was about to run headlong into a wall. She guessed, after they remained there for a few moments, that he was running his hands over it, trying to find something, perhaps a latch? She hoped he would do so soon. The stench from the sulphur pool they'd left behind was still strong, although she no longer felt as much urge to gag, and the cold of the lower level they now occupied was chilling her through her damp robes. After what seemed an eternity, Snape gave a satisfied grunt and a dazzling ray of light pierced the darkness of the room as he slowly swung open a heavy door. The hinges screamed as if they had not been used for a century, which, Delaia reflected, might be the case. The door refused to open all the way despite Snape's best efforts, but they managed to squeeze through a very narrow opening into what seemed a intensely bright corridor. Delaia realized that, in fact, it was no better lit than most of Durmstrang, but in comparison to their previous situation, it seemed like heaven.
They ran up the steep incline before them, slipping a little on the slick stones, until they came to a level area at the top with three smaller tunnels branching off from it. Snape hesitated, and Delaia did not need him to tell her that his memory had failed. "It doesn't matter," she reassured him, "anywhere is better than back there."
"Technically, yes," he agreed, "but we can't afford to get lost down here and take hours to find our way out. Augusta isn't stupid-if her wards tell her two people tried to break into her vault and two strangers from Hogwarts suddenly go missing, she will certainly notice. And," he reminded her, "our names can never come up, remember?"
Delaia nodded. It was something she'd had enough lectures on from him before they arrived. Neither she nor Severus could afford to attract any attention while at Durmstrang. As neither of them were Hogwart's champions, there was no reason for anyone to mention their names to Augusta, or to anyone else for that matter. The minute they did, however, they were in serious trouble, as she was certain to wonder why two Hogwart's students had the same names as her new pupil and his brother.
"Ok, so which is it?"
Snape closed his eyes in thought, and Delaia prudently kept quiet, hoping something would trigger his memory, but it was no use. In the end, they just had to choose one, which is how they came to find themselves, half an hour later, practically crawling up a passageway that could not have been meant for human use.
"Dwarfs originally carved out many of these caves, before moving on a millennium ago when all the ore ran out." Snape's reply to her unspoken question did not cheer Delaia very much, as she could only hope that the corridor they'd taken was not going to simply peter out on them, as the last remains of what once had been a vein of some valuable ore. It was with intense relief, then, that she saw a rusty ring of metal imbedded into the rock ahead of them. It took both she and Severus tugging on it, but eventually it turned, and with it the whole face of the rock before them rolled back into the wall. Delaia was so intent on scrambling through the opening as quickly as possible, that she failed to notice the small figure in front of her. It wasn't until it yelped in alarm when she ran into it that she noticed they were not alone. She did not immediately recognise the person she had almost run down, but her eyes had no difficulty identifying the tall figure across the room who was turning to regard her in shock.
"Close your mouth Albus," Apollo said from somewhere to Delaia's left. "You look ridiculous. Can't you see that the cavalry have arrived?"