Chapter Seven
Zosimus stirred the thick yellowish mixture in the cauldron in front of her and frowned. It was the last of the potions they had decided might be the catalyst necessary to activate Delaia's wand, but it did not look particularly golden to her. Perhaps the color would change as it cooled, or maybe her future self had been feeling particularly poetic the day she made it . . .
She finished the final stir with a flourish and sat down, damp hair falling about her face in a dispirited way, reflective, she thought as she pushed a strand out of her eyes, of her mood. It had been a hellish few days. After a little discussion, the memory of which still made her wince, she had convinced Severus that, despite the fact that she had forgotten to renew the polyjuice in all the excitement, she actually was Apollo. He had been furious, for some reason, to discover her deception, but had eventually agreed that dealing with their current problem was more important than yelling at her.
They found the kitchens, when they finally reached them after a harrowing time dodging elf mobs, deserted and bare, having been stripped of most implements to outfit the makeshift army. They managed to track down one huge caldron that had been left behind, and, with the help of a few terrified house elves who had apparently avoided the drugged beer and whom they found cowering in the corners in fear, located the cellars. After that, it was easy enough to make up a large batch of vodka punch, and to throw in a few additional ingredients from Augusta's storeroom that would hopefully counteract the deinhibitor. They had left it to the sober house elves to take the caldron to the dining room, where they had been informed the majority of the elves had assembled for purposes Zosimus didn't want to know about.
"You're sure this is going to work?" Sev had stared after the tiny group, who were staggering along under the weight of the huge caldron. They had resolutely refused to use a hover charm, apparently having decided to begin their punishment for allowing things to get so out of hand. Indeed, Apollo had had to drag most of them out of the orderly line in which they had been standing, waiting for their turn to shut their ears in the oven door, to get them to transport the mixture.
"One of the side effects of the deinhibitor is extreme thirst. They'll drink it," she assured him, "although whether it will have the desired effect or not . . ."
Apollo took the opportunity of the lull in the day's activities to heal Severus' nose, which she had been dismayed to discover was rather badly broken. She had not realised his injuries were serious, and had decided to see if there was anything else that needed mending when he made it very clear that he wanted no help from her. Deciding to monitor the progress of the potion, and to avoid any more unfortunate scenes with Sev, Apollo crept up to the banqueting chamber a few minutes later, only to find it eerily quiet. Severus, whom she hadn't noticed following her, let out a startled grunt as they looked about. It deserved more than that, she thought, but like him, she had no idea what to say.
The room, large as it was, was completely filled with booty that the elves had apparently stripped from all parts of the castle. Chests of gold and silver, ropes of jewels, casks of every kind of beverage, silk and velvet clothes and knick knacks that some elf or other had apparently admired, laid scattered in piles across the room. Apollo was relieved not to see any of her own robes in the mix, for which she would have considered adding another, much more toxic, potion to their next caldron of punch. In between the booty were the bodies. Apollo quickly determined that they all seemed to be alive, but were also out cold. She wasn't sure why-as far as she knew, nothing in the antidote should have made them sleepy, and the original potion acted as a stimulant, not the reverse, but unconscious they definitely were.
She and Severus had picked their way across the wrecked room, checking bodies as they went. A few elves stirred sluggishly, but none really responded. The humans, on the other hand, were possible to bring around; indeed, most were wide-awake and fuming when they finally got around to liberating them. Those who were not tied and gagged were unconscious, but responded well to ennervate. Thereafter came a period Zosimus fervently hoped she never had to live through again, as she and Sev had had to, in some cases forcibly, restrain the Durmstrang faculty and students from taking their revenge on the peacefully sleeping heaps of elves. It had been a close thing, but they finally managed it. After finding a very competent housekeeper, who promised not to let anyone commit mass elf murder--although, seeing her expression, Apollo feared that the little creatures were in for one hell of a retribution of another kind--she had dragged Severus off to bed.
Their rooms were as trashed as the rest of the castle, but neither cared. Both of them had been so exhausted, they fell asleep without bothering to so much as remove their boots. They were awakened, what felt like only a few hours later, by a frantic Delaia screaming something about Albus. Zosimus had pulled her pillow over her face and hoped it was all a bad dream that would go the hell away and let her get some sleep, but no such luck. She was beginning to believe there was some type of miasma of bad karma that hovered about Durmstrang; certainly, nothing had gone right since they arrived.
"She's got him! Oh wake UP!" Delaia was nothing if not persistent, and impossible to ignore when she was practically screaming in your ear. Apollo gave up and rolled, reluctantly, out of bed.
"What time is it?" Zosimus yawned and instinctively looked for a window to check the sun's position, but of course there were none. Yet another thing she hated about Durmstrang.
"I don't know, what difference does it make? Didn't you HEAR me? She's got him!" Delaia was, Apollo finally noted as consciousness returned, looking utterly frantic. If she'd had any sleep at all, it didn't show, her hair was matted and she had obviously been crying.
"Who has who?" Severus inquired from the other bed, looking almost comically bad. His nose, despite her ministrations of the previous night, was purple with bruising, his face looked about as haggard as she felt and his hair . . . Zosimus honestly had no idea how to describe his hair. She made a mental note to whip up something to deal with it later.
Delaia took a deep breath, steadied herself somewhat, and tried again. "Augusta has Albus. She traded him for Valentin. He wouldn't listen to me . . . I tried to keep him from doing it, but you know how he is . . . I KNEW something like this would happen!"
Apollo and Severus exchanged glances, and it was clear to her that he had no idea how to handle hysterical females. "Order breakfast, assuming there's anyone to bring it," she told him. "I'll . . . do what I can."
Eventually, one bedraggled house elf staggered in-through the door, apparently they still weren't using magic-and deposited a huge and surprisingly tasty breakfast on the table by the fire. Ravenous from her previous day's exertions, and from not having eaten since breakfast the day before, Zosimus tucked in with a will and insisted, between bites, that Delaia do likewise. Severus needed no such urging, and together they put away a gargantuan amount of food. Apollo felt considerably better afterwards, although she still longed for a bath. But first things first.
"Alright," she turned to Delaia, who was looking somewhat better for having eaten. "Tell us." It had taken the better part of an hour, but she had. "So where is Valentin, then?," she asked when Delaia finally finished, feeling too utterly stupefied by the crazy story she had just heard to think of another question.
"In the infirmary. He's alright-when I left, he was sleeping and looking much better."
"So, the reversal was a success?" Snape seemed, Apollo noted, more academically interested than anything else, and although she found the tale fascinating herself in a strange sort of way, clinical detachment was hardly likely to go over well with Delaia at the present. Indeed, if the girl had had more strength, Apollo thought it perfectly possible she would have hexed him then, and not used one of the minor ones.
"Yes, apparently, although what the effect will ultimately be . . . anyway, he's in no danger for the present. So," she looked at them both, "What are we going to do about Albus?"
"Explain this to me again," Snape said, leaning forward in his chair. "Augusta said she would return Valentin's stolen life force to him-what she had left of it, in any case, in exchange for Albus taking his place?" Delaia nodded, unable to speak.
Apollo took pity on her. "Severus, she needs rest. You can't expect her to go into all that again right now."
He ignored her. "This makes no sense," he told Delaia, his voice calm. "Think about it. Why would she want Albus as a substitute for Valentin? She had already performed the procedure on him-and from what I remember hearing, it takes a good deal out of the person doing it. Why go through that again, for no real gain? She had just modified Valentin-his energy would have sustained her for years to come. The substitution is not logical."
Apollo could see that Severus' argument had a good effect on Delaia, presenting her with an intellectual puzzle to take her mind off her emotional state, at least temporarily. She shot him a grateful glance, but he was concentrating on the girl in front of him. "Think, Delaia, there must be something else. Did she say anything, do anything, at all in addition to what you've told us?"
Delaia thought, and Apollo could tell she was putting effort into it. "We ran into the hall . . . like I told you, it was chaos . . . a battlefield, with hexes flying everywhere . . . I saw Albus, and it was strange, almost like he was glowing, and he was doing things that should not have been possible. I saw him absorb several hexes as if he didn't even feel them, and he kept becoming invisible when too hard pressed by a group of elves, then reappearing behind them and stupefying them all. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't have time to find out what was happening, as I had to defend myself and Valentin, who didn't have a wand."
"Right, and then you said Augusta appeared by your side and tried to reclaim Valentin."
Delaia nodded. "I can't remember her exact words to him, but it was something like, 'I should have known, wherever there's trouble, I can always look for you.' Anyway, she grabbed his arm, I grabbed the other one, and we did this ridiculous tug of war in the middle of everything . . . I didn't recognize Augusta until Valentin started screaming at her . . . anyway, Albus must have seen us, because all of a sudden, he was there, and that's when . . ."
"Right," Severus nodded, taking her hands and coaxing her to continue. "That is when she offered Albus the bargain."
"And he AGREED!"
"Yes, I know." Severus was obviously trying to be patient, although Apollo could see that it was not his strong suit. She was becoming interested in his line of thought, herself, however, and wished Delaia would pull herself together. They needed information if they were going to get Albus out of this. "What, EXACTLY, happened then?"
Delaia closed her eyes, apparently trying to force it to all come back. "Augusta said, 'you can't expect me to give up my prize for nothing, can you? I bought and paid for him, in a sense-so, what will you give in exchange?' And that's when Albus offered to take his place. And I didn't say anything . . . I couldn't-I was so . . . "
"Yes, but what did Augusta do? You said she actually took the necklace from Albus, and put it on Valentin?"
"She . . . she laughed, and let go of Valentin so fast he fell against me, almost knocking me down. Then she tossed him the necklace and said, 'I think I have the better of the bargain.' Then she and Albus just . . . disappeared." Delaia looked up at Severus pleadingly. "I didn't know what to do, everything was chaos all around and it was all the three of us could manage not to get hexed out of existence. I couldn't follow them, as I didn't even know where they'd gone . . . I STILL don't, for that matter. I went back to her vault afterwards, but she wasn't there. Then I looked in her rooms, and then just everywhere I could think of . . . Where could they be?"
Severus just shrugged, "There are any number of possibilities, but don't worry, Delaia, we'll find them. And don't be too concerned about Albus. If I'm correct, Augusta has no plans for him to replace Valentin-that isn't what she needs him for."
"Then what?"
"I could be wrong, as I am going on family stories half remembered from childhood, about things that took place long after this."
Delaia looked murderous. "Snape, if you know something and don't tell me right now . . . "
Severus held up his hands defensively. "That is what I'm trying to do. As I said, it makes no sense for Augusta to merely exchange one wizard for another, not if his life-force is all she wants. True, Albus is powerful, and the more powerful the . . . donor, for lack of a better word, the longer the effect lasts, but the difference would not be THAT significant. And Augusta is hardly the type to go to any additional trouble unless she sees significant gain for herself. So, I don't think she has marked Albus as her next victim. I doubt she has two of those little relics, and if Valentin is currently wearing it . . . "
Apollo spoke up, "But maybe there's another way of, well, siphoning someone's power, than using the relic."
Severus shrugged. "If so, I never heard of it. And, to my knowledge, she never took it off, not under any circumstances. So, if she's suddenly become so careless of it now, it must be because she thinks she has a better solution."
Apollo toyed with another pastry and mused aloud. "But what else is there? Besides the talisman, what could she possibly expect to get, and from Albus of all people, to allow her to live forever?"
Delaia's head snapped up at that, and she looked at Severus in dawning realisation. "You think . . . the Philosopher's Stone?"
Severus smiled. "It's good to see your ordeal hasn't entirely removed your powers of thought. It is what Augusta spent her life pursuing, but, in our time, never found. The Philosopher's Stone takes more than talent to create-there has to be a certain . . . purity of heart . . . in the maker as well. That," he admitted, "is why the family was willing to give her Valentin in exchange for her agreeing to take Hieronymus as her pupil. She thought that perhaps my grandfather might have both qualities, thus allowing her to create the Stone, and she promised that the elixir of life it produced would then be shared with our family. But, as I recall, grandfather was not as . . . pure . . . as she'd hoped, and although an apt pupil in the dark arts, he came no closer to creating the Stone than she did."
"But now she has Albus . . ."
"Who just might be the one she's been looking for," Severus finished the thought for her. "Making our task fairly clear, if far from easy. First, find them. Second, destroy the Stone, if they have had a chance to make one. Third, get out of here before we interfere any more with history than we have already done."
Which explained Apollo's hellish last few days, as she slaved over hot cauldrons in their rooms, making the final two potions on their list. Having had plenty of time to think as she did so, Apollo had realised something rather appalling that had apparently not yet occurred to Severus or, thankfully, to Delaia. She, of course, had every intention of going to the future with Severus. He might be treating her like a pariah at the moment, although why she still didn't know, but she was confident that, in time, she'd bring him around. But even if not, the thought of it-being able to study and work openly, under her own name, with no more need of polyjuice or hiding behind a façade, and having the same rights as anyone else . . . well, it sounded like heaven to her. Delaia's description of her isolated life in France did not give Apollo any reason to look forward to the future in her own time. And, having progressed along that far in her ruminations, she had seen with joy that there was no reason she couldn't go back with them. She was, after all, dead in their time period. No one, it was rumoured, could exist twice at the same time. The deadly paradox-for both versions of the person-that this caused was one reason for the heavy restrictions on any form of time-travel. But as she no longer existed in that era, she could travel there with no paradox being created.
It was while she was contemplating this glorious epiphany that the thought struck her. Yes, Delaia and Severus might well be able to retrieve Albus from Augusta's clutches, and indeed, she sincerely hoped they would, but even if so, it would do little good. Albus Dumbledore still lived in their time. Meaning, she had suddenly seen with perfect clarity, that he could not go back with them, or both Albuses would cease to exist. It was a fact she had not yet mentioned to Delaia, who looked dismal enough when she and Severus returned from their regular searches of the castle, all of which had so far been unsuccessful. Indeed, Apollo had no idea how to even begin to bring it up.
Zosimus stood and moved back to the cauldron to see how its contents were doing. Picking up a sample in a large ladle, she let it pour slowly back into the receptacle. In the candlelight from a nearby sconce, the honey- thick mixture turned from a dull mustard-brown into shimmering, liquid gold. Apollo smiled grimly. Unless she was very much mistaken, they now possessed the Golden Elixir.
A huge thank-you to those who are following this story and have reviewed. I still can't believe my little hobby is fun for anyone but me, but I'm glad if you're enjoying it. In response to a few questions/comments I've received lately:
To Lady Rhiyana-great Chicken Run reference (I love that movie, too). I don't think I was consciously thinking about it when I wrote that chapter, it was simply necessary for plot development, but subconsciously, who knows?
To Zardiphillian Beryllix-Thank you for sticking with this so far. In response to your question about Albus and Delaia, I've finally worked out the ending to book three and all I can say is that I honestly don't think it's ever been done-in FF or out of it. Let me know if I manage to surprise you.
To Alia-Don't you know, omni vincit amour? Have faith!
Zosimus stirred the thick yellowish mixture in the cauldron in front of her and frowned. It was the last of the potions they had decided might be the catalyst necessary to activate Delaia's wand, but it did not look particularly golden to her. Perhaps the color would change as it cooled, or maybe her future self had been feeling particularly poetic the day she made it . . .
She finished the final stir with a flourish and sat down, damp hair falling about her face in a dispirited way, reflective, she thought as she pushed a strand out of her eyes, of her mood. It had been a hellish few days. After a little discussion, the memory of which still made her wince, she had convinced Severus that, despite the fact that she had forgotten to renew the polyjuice in all the excitement, she actually was Apollo. He had been furious, for some reason, to discover her deception, but had eventually agreed that dealing with their current problem was more important than yelling at her.
They found the kitchens, when they finally reached them after a harrowing time dodging elf mobs, deserted and bare, having been stripped of most implements to outfit the makeshift army. They managed to track down one huge caldron that had been left behind, and, with the help of a few terrified house elves who had apparently avoided the drugged beer and whom they found cowering in the corners in fear, located the cellars. After that, it was easy enough to make up a large batch of vodka punch, and to throw in a few additional ingredients from Augusta's storeroom that would hopefully counteract the deinhibitor. They had left it to the sober house elves to take the caldron to the dining room, where they had been informed the majority of the elves had assembled for purposes Zosimus didn't want to know about.
"You're sure this is going to work?" Sev had stared after the tiny group, who were staggering along under the weight of the huge caldron. They had resolutely refused to use a hover charm, apparently having decided to begin their punishment for allowing things to get so out of hand. Indeed, Apollo had had to drag most of them out of the orderly line in which they had been standing, waiting for their turn to shut their ears in the oven door, to get them to transport the mixture.
"One of the side effects of the deinhibitor is extreme thirst. They'll drink it," she assured him, "although whether it will have the desired effect or not . . ."
Apollo took the opportunity of the lull in the day's activities to heal Severus' nose, which she had been dismayed to discover was rather badly broken. She had not realised his injuries were serious, and had decided to see if there was anything else that needed mending when he made it very clear that he wanted no help from her. Deciding to monitor the progress of the potion, and to avoid any more unfortunate scenes with Sev, Apollo crept up to the banqueting chamber a few minutes later, only to find it eerily quiet. Severus, whom she hadn't noticed following her, let out a startled grunt as they looked about. It deserved more than that, she thought, but like him, she had no idea what to say.
The room, large as it was, was completely filled with booty that the elves had apparently stripped from all parts of the castle. Chests of gold and silver, ropes of jewels, casks of every kind of beverage, silk and velvet clothes and knick knacks that some elf or other had apparently admired, laid scattered in piles across the room. Apollo was relieved not to see any of her own robes in the mix, for which she would have considered adding another, much more toxic, potion to their next caldron of punch. In between the booty were the bodies. Apollo quickly determined that they all seemed to be alive, but were also out cold. She wasn't sure why-as far as she knew, nothing in the antidote should have made them sleepy, and the original potion acted as a stimulant, not the reverse, but unconscious they definitely were.
She and Severus had picked their way across the wrecked room, checking bodies as they went. A few elves stirred sluggishly, but none really responded. The humans, on the other hand, were possible to bring around; indeed, most were wide-awake and fuming when they finally got around to liberating them. Those who were not tied and gagged were unconscious, but responded well to ennervate. Thereafter came a period Zosimus fervently hoped she never had to live through again, as she and Sev had had to, in some cases forcibly, restrain the Durmstrang faculty and students from taking their revenge on the peacefully sleeping heaps of elves. It had been a close thing, but they finally managed it. After finding a very competent housekeeper, who promised not to let anyone commit mass elf murder--although, seeing her expression, Apollo feared that the little creatures were in for one hell of a retribution of another kind--she had dragged Severus off to bed.
Their rooms were as trashed as the rest of the castle, but neither cared. Both of them had been so exhausted, they fell asleep without bothering to so much as remove their boots. They were awakened, what felt like only a few hours later, by a frantic Delaia screaming something about Albus. Zosimus had pulled her pillow over her face and hoped it was all a bad dream that would go the hell away and let her get some sleep, but no such luck. She was beginning to believe there was some type of miasma of bad karma that hovered about Durmstrang; certainly, nothing had gone right since they arrived.
"She's got him! Oh wake UP!" Delaia was nothing if not persistent, and impossible to ignore when she was practically screaming in your ear. Apollo gave up and rolled, reluctantly, out of bed.
"What time is it?" Zosimus yawned and instinctively looked for a window to check the sun's position, but of course there were none. Yet another thing she hated about Durmstrang.
"I don't know, what difference does it make? Didn't you HEAR me? She's got him!" Delaia was, Apollo finally noted as consciousness returned, looking utterly frantic. If she'd had any sleep at all, it didn't show, her hair was matted and she had obviously been crying.
"Who has who?" Severus inquired from the other bed, looking almost comically bad. His nose, despite her ministrations of the previous night, was purple with bruising, his face looked about as haggard as she felt and his hair . . . Zosimus honestly had no idea how to describe his hair. She made a mental note to whip up something to deal with it later.
Delaia took a deep breath, steadied herself somewhat, and tried again. "Augusta has Albus. She traded him for Valentin. He wouldn't listen to me . . . I tried to keep him from doing it, but you know how he is . . . I KNEW something like this would happen!"
Apollo and Severus exchanged glances, and it was clear to her that he had no idea how to handle hysterical females. "Order breakfast, assuming there's anyone to bring it," she told him. "I'll . . . do what I can."
Eventually, one bedraggled house elf staggered in-through the door, apparently they still weren't using magic-and deposited a huge and surprisingly tasty breakfast on the table by the fire. Ravenous from her previous day's exertions, and from not having eaten since breakfast the day before, Zosimus tucked in with a will and insisted, between bites, that Delaia do likewise. Severus needed no such urging, and together they put away a gargantuan amount of food. Apollo felt considerably better afterwards, although she still longed for a bath. But first things first.
"Alright," she turned to Delaia, who was looking somewhat better for having eaten. "Tell us." It had taken the better part of an hour, but she had. "So where is Valentin, then?," she asked when Delaia finally finished, feeling too utterly stupefied by the crazy story she had just heard to think of another question.
"In the infirmary. He's alright-when I left, he was sleeping and looking much better."
"So, the reversal was a success?" Snape seemed, Apollo noted, more academically interested than anything else, and although she found the tale fascinating herself in a strange sort of way, clinical detachment was hardly likely to go over well with Delaia at the present. Indeed, if the girl had had more strength, Apollo thought it perfectly possible she would have hexed him then, and not used one of the minor ones.
"Yes, apparently, although what the effect will ultimately be . . . anyway, he's in no danger for the present. So," she looked at them both, "What are we going to do about Albus?"
"Explain this to me again," Snape said, leaning forward in his chair. "Augusta said she would return Valentin's stolen life force to him-what she had left of it, in any case, in exchange for Albus taking his place?" Delaia nodded, unable to speak.
Apollo took pity on her. "Severus, she needs rest. You can't expect her to go into all that again right now."
He ignored her. "This makes no sense," he told Delaia, his voice calm. "Think about it. Why would she want Albus as a substitute for Valentin? She had already performed the procedure on him-and from what I remember hearing, it takes a good deal out of the person doing it. Why go through that again, for no real gain? She had just modified Valentin-his energy would have sustained her for years to come. The substitution is not logical."
Apollo could see that Severus' argument had a good effect on Delaia, presenting her with an intellectual puzzle to take her mind off her emotional state, at least temporarily. She shot him a grateful glance, but he was concentrating on the girl in front of him. "Think, Delaia, there must be something else. Did she say anything, do anything, at all in addition to what you've told us?"
Delaia thought, and Apollo could tell she was putting effort into it. "We ran into the hall . . . like I told you, it was chaos . . . a battlefield, with hexes flying everywhere . . . I saw Albus, and it was strange, almost like he was glowing, and he was doing things that should not have been possible. I saw him absorb several hexes as if he didn't even feel them, and he kept becoming invisible when too hard pressed by a group of elves, then reappearing behind them and stupefying them all. I couldn't believe it, but I didn't have time to find out what was happening, as I had to defend myself and Valentin, who didn't have a wand."
"Right, and then you said Augusta appeared by your side and tried to reclaim Valentin."
Delaia nodded. "I can't remember her exact words to him, but it was something like, 'I should have known, wherever there's trouble, I can always look for you.' Anyway, she grabbed his arm, I grabbed the other one, and we did this ridiculous tug of war in the middle of everything . . . I didn't recognize Augusta until Valentin started screaming at her . . . anyway, Albus must have seen us, because all of a sudden, he was there, and that's when . . ."
"Right," Severus nodded, taking her hands and coaxing her to continue. "That is when she offered Albus the bargain."
"And he AGREED!"
"Yes, I know." Severus was obviously trying to be patient, although Apollo could see that it was not his strong suit. She was becoming interested in his line of thought, herself, however, and wished Delaia would pull herself together. They needed information if they were going to get Albus out of this. "What, EXACTLY, happened then?"
Delaia closed her eyes, apparently trying to force it to all come back. "Augusta said, 'you can't expect me to give up my prize for nothing, can you? I bought and paid for him, in a sense-so, what will you give in exchange?' And that's when Albus offered to take his place. And I didn't say anything . . . I couldn't-I was so . . . "
"Yes, but what did Augusta do? You said she actually took the necklace from Albus, and put it on Valentin?"
"She . . . she laughed, and let go of Valentin so fast he fell against me, almost knocking me down. Then she tossed him the necklace and said, 'I think I have the better of the bargain.' Then she and Albus just . . . disappeared." Delaia looked up at Severus pleadingly. "I didn't know what to do, everything was chaos all around and it was all the three of us could manage not to get hexed out of existence. I couldn't follow them, as I didn't even know where they'd gone . . . I STILL don't, for that matter. I went back to her vault afterwards, but she wasn't there. Then I looked in her rooms, and then just everywhere I could think of . . . Where could they be?"
Severus just shrugged, "There are any number of possibilities, but don't worry, Delaia, we'll find them. And don't be too concerned about Albus. If I'm correct, Augusta has no plans for him to replace Valentin-that isn't what she needs him for."
"Then what?"
"I could be wrong, as I am going on family stories half remembered from childhood, about things that took place long after this."
Delaia looked murderous. "Snape, if you know something and don't tell me right now . . . "
Severus held up his hands defensively. "That is what I'm trying to do. As I said, it makes no sense for Augusta to merely exchange one wizard for another, not if his life-force is all she wants. True, Albus is powerful, and the more powerful the . . . donor, for lack of a better word, the longer the effect lasts, but the difference would not be THAT significant. And Augusta is hardly the type to go to any additional trouble unless she sees significant gain for herself. So, I don't think she has marked Albus as her next victim. I doubt she has two of those little relics, and if Valentin is currently wearing it . . . "
Apollo spoke up, "But maybe there's another way of, well, siphoning someone's power, than using the relic."
Severus shrugged. "If so, I never heard of it. And, to my knowledge, she never took it off, not under any circumstances. So, if she's suddenly become so careless of it now, it must be because she thinks she has a better solution."
Apollo toyed with another pastry and mused aloud. "But what else is there? Besides the talisman, what could she possibly expect to get, and from Albus of all people, to allow her to live forever?"
Delaia's head snapped up at that, and she looked at Severus in dawning realisation. "You think . . . the Philosopher's Stone?"
Severus smiled. "It's good to see your ordeal hasn't entirely removed your powers of thought. It is what Augusta spent her life pursuing, but, in our time, never found. The Philosopher's Stone takes more than talent to create-there has to be a certain . . . purity of heart . . . in the maker as well. That," he admitted, "is why the family was willing to give her Valentin in exchange for her agreeing to take Hieronymus as her pupil. She thought that perhaps my grandfather might have both qualities, thus allowing her to create the Stone, and she promised that the elixir of life it produced would then be shared with our family. But, as I recall, grandfather was not as . . . pure . . . as she'd hoped, and although an apt pupil in the dark arts, he came no closer to creating the Stone than she did."
"But now she has Albus . . ."
"Who just might be the one she's been looking for," Severus finished the thought for her. "Making our task fairly clear, if far from easy. First, find them. Second, destroy the Stone, if they have had a chance to make one. Third, get out of here before we interfere any more with history than we have already done."
Which explained Apollo's hellish last few days, as she slaved over hot cauldrons in their rooms, making the final two potions on their list. Having had plenty of time to think as she did so, Apollo had realised something rather appalling that had apparently not yet occurred to Severus or, thankfully, to Delaia. She, of course, had every intention of going to the future with Severus. He might be treating her like a pariah at the moment, although why she still didn't know, but she was confident that, in time, she'd bring him around. But even if not, the thought of it-being able to study and work openly, under her own name, with no more need of polyjuice or hiding behind a façade, and having the same rights as anyone else . . . well, it sounded like heaven to her. Delaia's description of her isolated life in France did not give Apollo any reason to look forward to the future in her own time. And, having progressed along that far in her ruminations, she had seen with joy that there was no reason she couldn't go back with them. She was, after all, dead in their time period. No one, it was rumoured, could exist twice at the same time. The deadly paradox-for both versions of the person-that this caused was one reason for the heavy restrictions on any form of time-travel. But as she no longer existed in that era, she could travel there with no paradox being created.
It was while she was contemplating this glorious epiphany that the thought struck her. Yes, Delaia and Severus might well be able to retrieve Albus from Augusta's clutches, and indeed, she sincerely hoped they would, but even if so, it would do little good. Albus Dumbledore still lived in their time. Meaning, she had suddenly seen with perfect clarity, that he could not go back with them, or both Albuses would cease to exist. It was a fact she had not yet mentioned to Delaia, who looked dismal enough when she and Severus returned from their regular searches of the castle, all of which had so far been unsuccessful. Indeed, Apollo had no idea how to even begin to bring it up.
Zosimus stood and moved back to the cauldron to see how its contents were doing. Picking up a sample in a large ladle, she let it pour slowly back into the receptacle. In the candlelight from a nearby sconce, the honey- thick mixture turned from a dull mustard-brown into shimmering, liquid gold. Apollo smiled grimly. Unless she was very much mistaken, they now possessed the Golden Elixir.
A huge thank-you to those who are following this story and have reviewed. I still can't believe my little hobby is fun for anyone but me, but I'm glad if you're enjoying it. In response to a few questions/comments I've received lately:
To Lady Rhiyana-great Chicken Run reference (I love that movie, too). I don't think I was consciously thinking about it when I wrote that chapter, it was simply necessary for plot development, but subconsciously, who knows?
To Zardiphillian Beryllix-Thank you for sticking with this so far. In response to your question about Albus and Delaia, I've finally worked out the ending to book three and all I can say is that I honestly don't think it's ever been done-in FF or out of it. Let me know if I manage to surprise you.
To Alia-Don't you know, omni vincit amour? Have faith!