Chapter Thirty-Six: Seemingly Simple

Author's Note: Hello everyone!  A million apologies for delaying this chapter for quite a while, but I had to write and rewrite, and it has finally come out to be a dandy seventeen pages now.  A present for all of my wonderful reviewers in celebration of my first 200 reviews!  Yay!!!  A quick note: those of you who are not aware of what "royal jelly" is, please take a second to look it up online.  It is not some product of Jell-O that I randomly conjured from the top of my head, though I wished it were.  :^)  And lastly, everyone who is reading this chapter, please also go to Stefynae's The Journey chapter seven.  We have interwoven our two stories together a tiny bit in her chapter seven and my chapter thirty-six.  Enjoy!

            Mrs. Norris eyed the broom closet warily as her ears picked up the sound of children approaching.  She shrank back and hissed as she noticed the door open, scampering away before she saw Dumbledore walk out with the Hogwarts students.  Natalia was trying to hastily weave her way up the line when she heard her friends call her.  "Hey, Natalia!" Harry shouted, "Wait up!"  "Why's she going so darn fast?" Ron muttered under his breath. 

            The Gryffindors had lost painfully after both Hermione and Harry were taken out.  Although Ron had placed his moves strategically, it was no use without their two most powerful players.  Natalia turned around, smiling sympathetically at her friends.  "Great job in the game," she said as they approached. 

            "Yeah, well, we didn't win, did we?" Ron grumbled moodily.  "Hey, Harry," he said, turning to the other boy, "What happened when you were dueling?  You looked like someone kicked you in the stomach!"

            Harry rubbed his forehead, whispering very softly, "My scar started to burn again.  It's never hurt as much as it did during the game."

            Hermione stopped walking immediately and spoke intently to the boy.  "You should tell Dumbledore, Harry.  This could mean something serious."

            "Yes, Harry," Natalia nodded in agreement, "I'll come with you, I was going to see Dumbledore just now."

            Ron frowned and inquired, "Why do you need to see Dumbledore?"

            Biting her lip, she replied after a moment of consideration, "I do not know if I am at liberty to say, but perhaps Dumbledore will tell Harry."  The three children nodded in understanding and Harry hurried away with Natalia in search of the Headmaster. 

            The Dark Lord laughed aloud as he saw the last Death Eater arrive, staggering through the woods like a maimed dog.  "Severus!" he hissed out in a mocking tone, "Now where has all your usual grace and poise gone?"  He grasped the hunched man by the neck and pulled him upright, wrenching a small cry of pain from the Potions Master.  "There," Voldemort jeered with a cruel sneer, "You must hold yourself with dignity and honor as a Death Eater.  We do not want you to be seen bent over like an old crone in pain, regardless of whether your blood is burning the very cells in your body."  The Dark Wizard cackled wildly, taking hilarity in his own joke.  "Oh, and Severus," he added, "Did you like the little gift I had appear on your arm?  You see, even though the Dark Mark flows in your veins now, I didn't want you to forget that you still belong to me."

            Snape fought the spasms of pain that ran through his body, closing his eyes in distress.  "No, Severus," Voldemort drawled out, "It is very rude to close your eyes while you are being spoken to."  Pointing his wand nonchalantly to the Potions Master, he muttered, "Crucio."  The professor's knees buckled as he let out a groan of pain, collapsing to the floor, writhing silently as the unfathomably painful torture swept over his body, adding to the pain he had already felt from the Dark Mark in his blood.  When the sensations finally dissipated, the Dark Lord stood over him, placing a foot under his head.  "Stand up!" he barked, the sound ringing in Snape's already aching ears.  He slowly grasped the twig littered ground beneath his body and raised himself onto his shaking knees.  With an immense effort, he stood, nearly toppling over once again had he not grabbed a nearby tree for support.  The Dark Wizard stood grinning insanely at him and turned, walking off to another Death Eater.  Snape let out a sigh of relief, thinking that the torment was over.  His breath quickly caught as he felt a deathly cold hand snake around his neck, impossibly soft skin caressing him almost tenderly.  "Severus," a soft voice whispered in his ear, "You have been sorely missed."

            The voice caused his heart to stop as he froze, dreading the person that had a hold of him.  From the corner of his eye, he saw a woman sneak around him, placing a hand over his heart.  "Mab…" he uttered, terror seizing him like a vice. 

            She smiled slyly, drawling out, "Well, well…you remember me."  Glancing mischievously behind her at Voldemort, she turned back to Snape, saying, "Come, Severus, dearest.  We have a wonderful night planned, and I promise to get you back in time for dinner."  She winked and led him by the hand to the center of the grove.  "Now," she continued, "There is a little party that your master and I want to go to, and of course, it is only polite that we bring a gift with us."  The Potions Master eyed her cautiously as she asked with a grin, "Well, don't you want to know what the gift is?"

            Snape frowned and said in a low voice, "What is it?"

            She smiled brightly at him and replied, "A little pet sea snake called the Leviathan."

            His face fell in horror as he took in what she meant.  They were going to unleash one of the world's deadliest monsters, and set it loose at the…He drew in a quick breath as he realized his role in the plan.  There was no possible way she would have enough strength to draw out the Leviathan and stay alive, therefore she would need an immense enhancement of her powers.  That could only imply one thing…

            "Well, well, I see that you are as quick as Voldemort says of you.  Yes, Severus, you are going to provide me with the strength I need to capture the Leviathan."  Her grin widened into a sneer as she came very close to him, whispering, "And we get to do this twice: tonight and tomorrow night.  Won't that be fun?"

            "What do you mean twice?" he breathed out, fearing for his existence.

            She slipped her arm around Voldemort's waist, the two of them snickering as she explained, "Your body does not contain enough blood to enable me the power of taming the Leviathan.  But, after your health restores tonight, for I am sure Dumbledore would never let his precious Potions Professor waste away, you shall be called upon again tomorrow, and then, I will take the rest of your power from you." 

            Snape paled and took in a raspy breath.  "Oh, don't look so frightened," she murmured, adding in a singsong voice, "Remember, you can't die unless I do."  Sauntering slowly to him, she stroked his cheek, whispering, "I do miss the taste of you," as she placed her lips on his.  His hands clenched involuntarily as he felt the blood rise from his veins, bursting forth from his throat and flooding into her mouth.  A terrible scream rose from him as he felt his heart speed up to a fatally rapid rate, the blood pouring into Mab's greedy throat.  The process was a terrifying sight to behold: the Potion's Master's skin drained of all color as his eyes rolled to the back of his head, his limbs thrashing about wildly as he clawed the air.  When his heart had quickened to the point of rupturing, Mab pulled her head away, snaking her tongue out to lick his lips clean of all traces of blood.  He fell to the floor, collapsing in an unconscious heap with only half a pint of blood left in him.  Her eyes had become completely golden as she relished the power rush that surged through her veins.  "My, Severus," she said in a husky whisper, "You are the most sensual kisser."  She turned around, asking the Dark Lord, "Have you got the girl?"

            Gesturing to a Death Eater, Voldemort watched as a young girl no older than seven was brought out, shrieking in terror.  "Ah, the Muggles are good for something." he hissed as he gazed closely at her.  "Don't you love the smell of fear?" he asked Mab absentmindedly as he slid his forklike tongue out to the child's face.  The girl screamed, backing up into the Death Eater that held her.  Mab motioned for the Death Eater to move away and put her hand reassuringly on the girl's shoulder.  "Don't be frightened, my dear," she said in a sweet voice, leading her away from Voldemort.  The girl looked up at Mab, and seeing that she was a beautiful lady and seemingly harmless, clung to her and buried her face in Mab's robes.  The faerie grinned at Voldemort as she stroked the girl's hair gently.  "Now, sweetheart, you see this gentleman here?" she said, pointing to Snape.  The girl nodded, whimpering softly.  Mab knelt down next to the girl and tenderly wiped away her tears.  "He's been hurt very badly," she whispered softly into her ear, "Do you want to help him?"  The child nodded, clinging to Mab's neck.  "All right, then," the faerie said, smiling very compassionately, "We're going to help him.  Now," she continued, brushing away a stray strand of hair from the girl's face, "Do you trust me?"  The little girl nodded, looking at Mab intently.  "Good," the faerie whispered, placing a kiss on the girl's forehead.  "Now all we have to do," she said pleasantly while standing back up, "Is kill you and give him all of your blood.  Is that all right?"  The girl froze and gaped at the faerie in terror, shrinking away quickly.  She opened her mouth and began screaming, letting out a high-pitched, piercing shriek.  Mab rolled her eyes in impatience and muttered, "Oh, hush," grabbed the girl's head and twisted it in one quick motion, ripping open her neck, discontinuing the girl's scream instantly.  "Children," she hissed under her breath, "They're cowards, all of them."  She quickly took a potion out of her pocket and uncorked it, pouring it into Snape's mouth.  Then, she grabbed the girl's dead body and held the spouting wound over his mouth, the blood running into his throat as the potion allowed it to seep directly into his veins.  Looking up at Voldemort as she held the girl, Mab asked nonchalantly, "You did get the correct blood type, right?"

            The Dark Lord hissed and snarled out, "Do you take me for an idiot?"

            Rolling her eyes, she replied, "You aren't bound to him."

            Once all of the child's blood was drained from her body and into the Potions Master, Mab threw the girl away, tossing her to the hungry Nagini.  She turned back to Snape and waved her hand casually over him, reviving the man instantly.  He jerked forward, throwing up a mouthful of red fluid, coughing and choking on the acrid blend of stomach acid and blood that clung to his throat.  Mab smirked, brushing his hair away affectionately with her fingers.  "Dear, dear, Severus," she murmured, "You have been most helpful tonight.  And look, I kept my promise.  Supper is still in session at Hogwarts."  She grinned at him, holding a piece of moldy bark in her hand.  "Here's a portkey that will take you back to the front of the school."  Handing him the piece of wood, she leaned very close to his face, causing him to pull back in alarm.  "What, no goodnight kiss?" she taunted with a sneer.  He stumbled back, barely able to keep upright on the ground.  Tossing the portkey to him, she said with a laugh, "Sweet dreams tonight, Severus."  The bark fell to the Potions Master's feet, causing him to stagger to the ground and search for it with his hands, the earth spinning as his vision blurred.  Grasping the wood, he felt himself being tugged forward and transported immediately to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, just outside of Hagrid's hut.  He dropped the piece of bark and half staggered, half crawled into Hogwarts, collapsing onto the ground right as he entered the courtyard. 

            Fred and George had finished their dinner in a hurry, rushing out of the Great Hall in anticipation of testing their new Pyrogram Scrolls.  "It's definitely not fiery enough, the hologram," one redhead remarked. 

            "Yeah, it needs more summer frisacs, but I don't think Sprout has any this time of the year," George noted. 

            "Hm…" Fred muttered, scratching his ear, "We could probably get some tomorrow in Hogsmeade."  Turning to his twin, he grinned mischievously.  "You know what else we could get, right?"

            After a moment, George burst out laughing, slapping Fred on the back in understanding.  "Yes!  We could!  Imagine the looks on their faces!"

            They headed to the courtyard, reviewing what they were going to do.  "OK, so you unroll it and run back while I set the delay.  Make sure you don't turn it off though, 'cuz then you'll get you hair singed off and, yeah, that won't be good.  Anyway, we'll have to see if the hologram comes up fast eno–"  Fred stopped in his tracks mid sentence, causing the other boy to crash into him.  "What is it?" George muttered.

            Fred craned his neck forward as he peered closely at the dark figure slumped on the ground.  "Bloody hell," he breathed out, his face drawing back in alarm, "It's Snape!"

            The twins approached the professor cautiously as one picked up a stick and flipped him over, reeling back as the metallic stench of blood hit them.  "Holy sphinxes," George muttered, "He's soaked in blood."

            Looking intently at his twin, Fred whispered, "Who do you think did this?"  Without having to answer the question, they both immediately knew who had done the deed.  "Come on," George urged, "We've got to get him to the infirmary before anyone sees him."

            Fred got out his wand to levitate the man, but George stopped him.  "No, don't do that, we don't know what's been done to him.  A single spell might end up killing him."  Nodding, the twins draped the professor's arms over their shoulders and hurriedly dragged him to the hospital wing.  They laid him carefully on a bed, at which Fred hurried out the door, running off to get Madame Pomfrey from the Great Hall. 

            "Oh, yes, my niece has just begun her studies in –"  The nurse paused as she felt someone tapping her shoulder.  Seeing Fred Weasley out of the corner of her eye, she leaned toward Professor Sinistra, saying, "Excuse me for a moment."  Turning around, she eyed the redhead cautiously, uttering, "Yes, Mister Weasley, may I help you?"

            Fred leaned over and whispered something urgently into her ear, causing the old witch to gasp out loud, rising quickly out of her chair.  Going over to the Headmaster, she whispered, "Albus."  The old wizard turned around, his smile falling as he saw the anxious look on Madame Pomfrey's face.  "What's the matter, Poppy?"  She whispered pressingly into his ear, making the kind look on his face quickly give way to one of grave worry.  Without allowing her to finish, he got up in haste and rushed out of the Great Hall, the nurse and the twin following closely at his heels. 

            It was near midnight when the Potions Master awoke in a start, clutching the edge of the bed as he fought off the faerie queen that had invaded his dreams.  A hoarse cry escaped from his throat as he felt a hand steady him.  His eyes darted to the Headmaster next to him, and only then did he let out a breath of relief and sink back into the pillow, allowing exhaustion to overcome him.  Dumbledore's face was drawn into a deep frown, his worry for the younger man mounting by the moment.  He had sat watching over the Potions Professor for hours, and in that period of time, he had suddenly noticed how much Snape had aged over the past year.  Deep lines of anxiety were etched across his face while shadows borne from apprehension and dread weighed down the pallor of his skin.  He now bore no resemblance to the Snape the Headmaster had known years ago; all of the fighting edge and ardor he harbored once had now given way to a lasting weariness and resentment towards life.  The Headmaster knew in the back of his mind, though he refused to admit so or even entertain the thought, he knew that the Potions Master did not have long, that even if he was given a lengthened life by being bound to Mab, he knew that soon, Snape's life would be drained from him and whatever spirit that was left would dissipate.  As he watched the younger wizard wake, he hoped dearly that there would be some way to restore him, to provide him the strength to endure.  Snape coughed, causing the fluids in his throat to sting even further.  "Water…please," he choked out, his voice coming in sparse wisps of air that managed to escape his throat.  Dumbledore grasped the pitcher by his side and hastily poured the Potions Master a glass, watching as he painfully swallowed mouthfuls of liquid. 

            "How do you feel?" the Headmaster inquired.

            "Never been better," the man replied with a bitter smile. 

            "Severus," the old wizard started, "What occurred at the –"

            The Potions Master stopped him abruptly with a raise of his hand, gesturing to a sick student in another bed in the corner of the room.  "Let's go to my office to talk," he said in a low voice.  The two headed to the dungeons slowly, Snape supported on the Headmaster's shoulder.  With great effort, the professor lowered himself into the chair behind the desk, letting out a heavy sigh as Dumbledore sat across from him.  After a long moment of silence, Snape finally uttered, "It's the Leviathan.  What they have planned – the Leviathan."

            Leaning forward, the Headmaster said in a low voice, "The Leviathan?  What are they planning to do with it?"

            "The Gala – they are attacking the Gala."

            "That can't be possible," Dumbledore uttered, "There will be more than a million Magicals there, not to mention the gods.  Imagine the chaos that would come about."

            Snape rubbed his eyes wearily and let out a deep sigh.  "No, I don't think they are doing this to provoke chaos – they would never go to such great lengths to wreck havoc.  No…it has to be something subtler, some detail that we must be overlooking…"  He trailed off, his thoughts drifting away to dread. 

            "Severus…Severus."  The Headmaster shook him, bringing the Potions Master back to reality. 

            "Sorry," Snape muttered, rubbing his temples.

            "There is something I've been meaning to tell you," the old wizard began, "Today, during the tournament, I received a vision."

            "A vision?" the Potions Master inquired, leaning forward.

            "Yes," Dumbledore continued, "Of Natalia.  I must ask you to keep a close eye on her, especially during the evenings.  Make sure she is not left by herself at any time."

            Frowning, Snape pointed out, "I won't be able to watch her at Hogsmeade tomorrow as I will be…preoccupied."

            "No," the Headmaster clarified, "Her mother has not given her permission to go, therefore she will be staying here tomorrow."

            Snape nodded, saying very quietly, "I will try and keep a close watch on her then…"  He drifted off to his own thoughts again, his face falling a shade darker. 

            Dumbledore observed the younger wizard closely, saying after a moment, "Severus, I have something I want you to accept from me.  I will not allow you to protest in any way."  From the pocket of his robes, he pulled out a slim vial, the liquid within it golden and glowing, beautiful beyond comprehension.  Snape recognized it immediately and whispered, "No…you cannot have –"

            "Don't argue with me, Severus," the old wizard warned, "You are to accept this whether you agree to it or not."

            "No," the Potions Master protested, "If it is what I suspect it to be, you will take it back for yourself.  I am not worthy of such a sacrifice."

            "You will die if you do not take it, Severus!" the Headmaster boomed in a beseeching tone, "Do you not realize how dire your disposition is?  It is absolutely vital for you to take this, Severus.  I am not asking you, I am demanding it."

            He quietly placed the potion on the table, watching the tentative professor as he did so.  The liquid that lay inside the vial was Chiron's Catholicon, an elixir with the capability of restoring one's soul, spirit, and being, but at the cost of years from another's life.  It was inevitable that Dumbledore had willingly sacrificed years of his own life for Snape's well being, intent on seeing the Potions Master's vitality restored back to what it once was.  "No," the younger man uttered in a low voice, "I will not take it.  You are needed more in this world than I, and…and I do not deserve anything from you, least of all years from your life."

            "Severus, I am not giving you a choice.  You will take this and –"

            "No!" the Potions Professor exclaimed, "Nothing you say will make me take such a thing from you.  Mab is going to take more of my life away from me tomorrow, so the catholicon – your life – will be wasted."  He stood in silence, unable to look up at the Headmaster, so moved he was that the old wizard would give part of his life for him.  Dumbledore looked with deep sorrow at the Potions Master, seeing that the younger man would not change his mind.  "Alright," the old man said quietly, "I shall abide by your wishes now, but I implore that you take it tomorrow, after…after you are back."

            Nodding silently, Snape watched as the Headmaster left his office, then headed into his own bedroom, falling on the bed in complete exhaustion. 

            Natalia was playing Brahms on her cello, sinking deep into the velvet lull of the phrases, the lush caress of the notes.  Her fingers slid up the fingerboard, bringing about a dulcet, sonorous note, when suddenly, the string snapped, whipping back and stinging her hand.  "Ow!" she cried out, shaking her hand in an attempt to flick the pain out.  A muffled knock came from outside her room and she carefully set her cello down, opening the door.  "Headmaster Dumbledore, good evening," she greeted, rather puzzled at why he had come to see her.  He entered the chamber, saying, "You play beautifully, Natalia.  Was that Brahms' Cello Sonata that you were practicing?"

            "Yes," she replied, "The first one, in E minor, until my string broke, that is."  She went over to her cello, unhooked the string, and wrapped it around her finger.  Seeing his curious look, she explained, "So I will not forget to get a new one." 

            "I can get you a new string while I am in London on Sunday," he offered.

            Shaking her head, she said, "No, but thank you.  I do not want to burden you with such little things."

            "It isn't a burden," he objected, "And besides, I think there is a string instrument shop across the street from The Leaky Cauldron."

            "If you have time," she said, "I would really appreciate it.  Thank you."

            "Of course," he replied, "I always encourage students to pursue their interests."

            She smiled, saying quietly, "I sometimes have daydreams that I'm a Muggle musician, living only for the music."  She looked up, blushing from embarrassment.  "Of course, I do not mean that being a Magical is bad, it is just sometimes, I wished that…"  She became silent, her words jumbling together as she tried to make herself clear.  "Never mind," she muttered, looking away, "I'm probably just crazy."

            The Headmaster smiled benevolent as he said, "No, no, I quite understand what you mean, Natalia.  But realize that being a Muggle is no easier than being a Magical."

            She nodded, asking after a moment, "Did you want to see me for something?"

            "Oh, yes," he responded, suddenly remembering why he had come, "I wanted to inform you about Professor Snape's condition as you were the one who told me of his absence during the chess game."

            She frowned as worry suddenly clouded her face.  "Is he all right?" 

            "No," the Headmaster replied gravely, "In fact, he is very near the point of losing his spiritual existence."

            "What do you mean?" Natalia asked with great concern.

            "His soul," Dumbledore said in a low voice, "Is nearing extinction.  Although he has been bound to Mab, the faerie queen, which is a greater cruelty than anyone should endure, he will only live physically, but all feeling, sense, and thought will be lost to him soon if he is not administered a certain potion."

            "What is this potion?" she inquired.

            Looking up at her, he replied quietly, "Chiron's Catholicon.  It was first given to Prometheus when Chiron offered his immortality to the man, allowing his punishment of having his liver eaten out every day by eagle come to an end.  Chiron had to cross over to Hades, ending his life for the man, and in the process, Asklepios captured his essence, or his soul, in such a potion and administered it to Prometheus, returning the man's health and spirit to him immediately.  However," he uttered, "Professor Snape, has greater wounds than even Prometheus, and I doubt that the potion will completely cure him of all pains, but he will need it nevertheless."

            Natalia's face fell as she heard this, whispering, "And has he taken it?"

            Looking away, the Headmaster replied in a grave voice, "No, he has not.  He does not believe that he deserves such a thing, and therefore will not accept it.  However," he looked up at Natalia, "He has agreed to think it over before tomorrow night."

            "What is tomorrow night?" she asked.

            The old wizard frowned, wondering if he should tell her lest she be alarmed further.  "Professor Snape is to be called again tomorrow, therefore it is my hope that he does indeed take the potion."

            "Do you think he will take it?"

            Dumbledore sighed, saying, "One can only hope.  But I will not keep you further.  It is near midnight already and it would not do for you to be tired tomorrow when –"  He stopped himself, remembering that she could not go to Hogsmeade.  "Well," he said after an awkward moment, "Good night, Natalia."

            After she bid him goodnight, the Headmaster left the Slytherin dormitory, ascending slowly from the dungeon in dire need of a good night's rest.

            Natalia sat worriedly by her bed, her mind busy with thoughts of her professor's condition.  She knew there was not much she could do for him, but her conscience would not allow her to rest, stubbornly deciding for her that she should do something rather than stand aside as a spectator.  The Chiron's Catholicon was a potion of an entirely new concept to her, arousing wonder and curiosity in her as she listened to the Headmaster tell of its attributes.  Knowing that the Catholicon was a restorative potion, Natalia went to her bookshelf and got down her mother's dusty old potions book and found a section on recuperation and other types of healing methods.  Researching further, she eventually located a chapter on restoration potions and after reading for an hour, discovered that the feather of an Occamy was the most powerful healing ingredient in the world.  However, she could not think in her mind where she was going to acquire an Occamy feather other than from inside her wand, and there was no possible way she could break open the Shangri-La without creating a catastrophe.  She closed the book, clutching it on her lap as she looked out her window, wishing she could just conjure an Occamy feather immediately.  Wouldn't that be nice, she thought to herself, If I could conjure anything I wanted.  Then I would never have to buy another Christmas present for anyone.  She smiled to herself.  Or any sweets for Halloween, for that matter.  Suddenly, her eyes flew open as she hit herself inwardly for being a dolt.  Rushing to her wardrobe, she remembered the Occamy feather that SaDaga had given her for Halloween as part of her costume.  She tore through the entire wardrobe, unable to find the object she was looking for.  It was not until she reached the clutter in the bottom drawer of her desk that she finally found what she sought for.  She had cast it aside absentmindedly after the long night of saving the dwarf, and had forgotten completely about it until now.  Carefully, she took out the silver box that it lay in and opened it, seeing the delicate white feather that rested inside.  Closing the box immediately, she headed to the potions classroom to begin her first attempt at making a restorative potion. 

            No response came from the eight knocks she had placed on the classroom door.  Tentatively, she went inside and saw that it was completely empty.  Thinking that the professor had gone to bed, she quietly snuck in and got down a potion set, opening up her mother's potion book again.  Only now did she notice that the restorative potions were placed in the very back of the book, deeming it one of the hardest categories of potions to make.  She bit her lip, almost wanting to renounce the whole attempt at once.  However, she remembered the things that Snape had done for her in the past and the multiple times he had looked after her, and decided that she would have to at least try.  Looking over the different types of restorative potions, she found one that would be suitable at the very end.  It was a Revivifying Restorative that could be made in an hour if the brewer was very careful.  Reading the first step of the procedure, she saw that she would need sage and fennel, and that the two herbs would have to simmer in honey mixed with royal jelly for an hour.  Smiling, she wondered if a confectioner had invented this certain potion.  She got the sage and fennel from his cabinets and quietly crept into his office to look for honey and royal jelly.  After searching for what seemed a good twenty minutes in his office, she concluded that there was no honey, much less royal jelly, to be found.  She considered going to the kitchen to look for a minute and decided that it was the only solution as long as the house elves did not make a big commotion. 

Winky was drowning her poor liver in butterbeer again as she sat by the fire, looking despondently at the flames flickering against the brick wall.  Hearing a noise come from the front of the kitchen, Winky turned toward it groggily, seeing a figure creep toward the cabinets in search of something.  "W-who's there?" Winky called out quietly, afraid of waking the children.  The figure turned, startled, and took off the hood that it wore.  A medium-sized girl appeared from beneath the cloak and approached the house-elf very slowly.  "Hello," the green-eyed girl whispered, kneeling down next to the sitting Winky, "I was wondering if you could help me look for something."

            Winky peered at her suspiciously, uttering, "You-you is a Slytherin?"

            "Yes," the girl responded, "My name is Natalia."

            "Oh, yes, yes, Natalia Slytherin!  Dobby talks about Miss very much.  He likes Miss very much.  Miss is a nice Slytherin!"

            Natalia smiled, holding a finger up to her lips.

            "Sorry!" Winky whispered, "Winky sorry for talking so loud.  Miss wants to find something?"

            "Yes," Natalia replied, nodding, "I was wondering if you could help me find some honey and if possible, some royal jelly."

            "Royal jelly?" the house-elf whispered loudly, "Miss asks for something Winky cannot give!  Winky does not have key to special foods room!  Winky must go ask Banky.  Banky has the keys."  With that, the little creature scurried off drunkenly, hobbling away with the butterbeer jug, liquid sloshing carelessly onto the floor. 

            Around fifteen minutes later, after much noisy whispering and scurrying, two house-elves came back in, the new one a bit taller than Winky and with a few more noticeable wrinkles.  "Hello Miss," the new house-elf said with his head bowed, "Banky's name is Banky, Miss."

            Natalia grinned, replying, "Hello, Banky.  I was wondering if I could acquire some royal jelly and honey from you?"

            The house-elf nodded, answering, "Of course, of course.  But Miss must not tells other children Miss gets it from Banky or else Banky will gets in trouble."         

            "Yes, of course," the girl replied.  The older house-elf tottered off with a huge ring of keys to the back of the kitchen, opening a room marked "Special".  A few moments later, Banky came back with a jar of golden honey and another significantly smaller jar of white colored, rich royal jelly.  "Thank you," Natalia whispered as she received the ingredients.  Bidding the two house-elves goodnight, she hurried back down to the potions classroom, eager to get started on the Revivifying Restorative. 

An hour later, Natalia was still puzzling over how to extract the feather's core as the sage and fennel brewed in the honey and royal jelly mixture.  Sighing, she trudged into the Potions Master's office and looked through his bookshelf, seeing a book at the top on extraction and dissection.  Getting up on the chair, she got the book and looked through it, finally finding a small paragraph on owl feathers.  Thinking that it would be the same concept, Natalia followed the instructions to split the quill of the feather.  However, looking over the Occamy feather in her hand, she saw that it had barely any quill, and hoping that the shaft would have the same effect, carefully cut down the middle of the feather's spine and pulled it open, only to see another layer of hard material covering whatever "core" the feather had.  After what seemed to be eight layers, she finally reached a powdery white substance that lined the inside of the shaft, and gently shaking this out onto a spoon, sifted it into the potion and mixed it very carefully, cautious not to lose any bit of the precious powder.  Finally, half an hour later, the potion had become a thin oily substance, which she presumed to be the final product of the Revivifying Restorative, and proceeded to pour it into a vial with a ladle.  Quickly cleaning up, she waited a hesitant moment and went quietly into his chambers.

            He did not hear her come in, nor did he hear her approach his bedside.  Natalia watched her professor with great concern, careful not to reel back at the strong smell of dried blood from his robes.  "Professor," she whispered, shaking him gently, "Professor…"  The man did not wake.  He was deep in a silent, dreamless sleep, oblivious to all that was around him.  Touching him timidly on the hand, she jerked back, alarmed by the iciness of his skin.  She frowned, thinking of what to do while she waited for him to wake.  Looking over him once again, she decided that it would not do for him to wake up the next day exhausted and blood stained for breakfast.  That would definitely rouse some curiosity amongst the students. 

            A while later, Snape woke up groggily and rolled over, suddenly aware of another presence in the room.  He sat up quickly, grasping the intruder, locking the person in an arm grip, and holding them by the throat.  "P-Professor!" the girl choked out, gasping for breath as she froze under his bruising clench on her throat.  It took him a long moment to register that it was Natalia, and instantly, he loosened his grip and backed away, looking apologetically at the girl.  She grasped her throat, coughing as she struggled to breathe.  The Potions Master frowned, steadying the girl as she gasped for air.  She took her hand off her throat and shook her head, trying to say something.  "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered, seating her by his bedside.  His brow furrowed as he noticed the bruises blooming on her neck.  Reaching forward, he touched her throat gently, inspecting the marks he had left on her skin.  "I – I," she whispered out in a cough, "I tried to wake you, but you were asleep.  There's a bath in the lavatory waiting for you, and I set out some clean robes on the washstand."

            Looking at the enchanted sundial on his nightstand, Snape saw that it was close to four in the morning.  "You should be asleep," he chided gently, adding, "How did you know that…"

            "The Hea–"  Natalia stopped herself, thinking that she should not mention Dumbledore.  "I was worried about you, so I came to see how you were," she said, hoping he wouldn't ask any more questions. 

            He looked at her wearily, too tired to detect any hint of falsity in her tone.  "And," she continued in a small voice, "I have something I want to give you." 

            "Alright…" he said slowly, savoring each syllable, "Let me clean up, and then we can talk.  Meanwhile…"   He searched around, looking for something to keep her occupied.  Remembering that he had promised her access to his library, he gestured for her to follow him, leading her to the back of his chambers where he opened a door leading into a spacious room with towering shelves of books.  "You…you have nearly as big a library as Hogwarts does," she whispered out, looking at the rows and rows of books in awe. 

            "You may look at any of them," he said, "Although you may want to start with the Elven books first.  I have them in the back, here."  He led her to the far corner of the library and gestured to a large glass case of books, all grand and ancient. 

            "Are they in…the elven language?"

            "No," the Potions Master replied, "They will change their characters to whatever language you speak as you read them."

            Smiling, she opened the case and ran her hand lightly over the books.  "I will leave you here now, and when I am back, we can talk."  She nodded, not quite paying attention to her professor any longer.  Her eyes ran from Galdor Léralondë's Spells of the Anduril Aksa (The Path of The Flame of The West), to The Realm of The Atalante (The Downfallen).  A light glimmer suddenly caught her eye, and she immediately saw an exceedingly antique book by the name of Bezazelis' Anthology of Anomalous Powers.  Frowning with curiosity, she took out the book, at which an entire cloud of dust rose to her face, causing her to cough.  She opened the relic of a volume and saw that it was categorized alphabetically.  I wonder if they wrote about the Shangri-La in here, she thought, flipping quickly to the S section.  As the pages turned, a certain phrase caught her eye.  Flipping back, she saw the words Seven Sacred Emeralds, catching her attention immediately.  Spreading the book open, she read the following entry:

Seven Sacred Emeralds

Forged by Rukai of the Wood (a tree-dwelling mage known for his carpentry and blacksmith skills) in the year four hundred and seventy-two, the Seven Sacred Emeralds are believed to be the most valuable stones on earth.  The true reason as to why the mage created the stones in the first place is unknown, though some experts believe that Rukai was famous for crafting objects because of his ambitious drive for power, while others protest that he merely produced them for show and envy.

It is said that Rukai held the stones in his possession for one hundred years before a group of elves, most likely of the Drow species, invaded his home and stole the precious gems.  After much deliberation and fierce arguments, the bandits chose to hide the stones in secret locations over the seven continents of the earth, hoping that anyone looking for them would not be able to track them down without a great amount of effort. 

The full extent of the stones' powers is still unknown, but the most unique of which is that of manipulating Time.  Inside the emerald Time does not exist.  Once the stone has been active with a host for one thousand years, its power starts to leak through the owner, creating an illusion of which the holder believes he or she is suspended in a space void of Time. This pause in the ribbon of Time allows the host to do nearly whatever they wish, making it either a tremendously helpful tool, or a terribly deadly one.

It is believed that the emeralds hold a life force all their own—which is difficult to control, but not impossible.  Most likely it is achievable several years after the host has experienced its power, and he/she will be able to manipulate Time easily with the mind.  Once the stone and the host become one, it is impossible to break their bond. 

Little is known about the location of the Seven Sacred Emeralds of Rukai, but there is rumor to believe that one of these powerful stones fell into the hands of the Lunai-sä tribe of elves (location unknown), who bestow upon their children an armband known as a saphie, worn around the upper arm as a symbol of love, peace, and prosperity.  The Lunai-sä tribe is acknowledged as one of the highest and most respected of all Elven species.

            Suddenly, she heard the professor come in, startling her out of the world of the elves.  "I see you have found my book on powers," the professor said, looking much refreshed from his previous blood-spattered state. 

            "Yes," Natalia replied, "I was just reading about the Seven Sacred Emeralds.  They are indeed very fascinating."

            "Mm…" the professor muttered, a strange far-off look entering his eye.  Natalia looked curiously at the Potions Master while unraveling the cello string from her finger, leaving it as a bookmark between the pages.  "May I come back to read this book later, professor?"

            "Oh, of course," he replied, prying himself from whatever thoughts had been triggered by the mention of the emeralds.  "You may come to my library and read these books whenever you want," he added, quirking his lips in what seemed like a small smile.  "Now," he continued, "You said you wanted to talk to me about something?"

            "Oh, yes," the girl muttered, remembering the task she had at hand, "I …I have something for you."

            "Why don't we go back outside?" the professor interrupted, "I can barely see you in here."  They went out and sat by his fireplace where a warming fire had already been started.  "So?" he asked, raising an expectant eyebrow at the girl.

            "I…"  She lost her voice, looking away as the words escaped her tongue. 

            The Potions Master looked at her intently, careful not to roll his eyes as she had already done so much for him.  "Don't try to phrase it eloquently, Natalia," he said softly, "Just tell me."

            She looked at him with a great deal of anxiety and dread, fearing that she had made the potion incorrectly.  Shoving a hand in her pocket, she brought out the vial of Revivifying Restorative, hiding it in her fist as she extended her hand to the professor.  "What is it?" he inquired quietly as he opened his palm.  She dropped the potion in his hand and scooted far back into her chair, afraid of his reaction.  "Please…" she murmured weakly. 

            The professor sighed resignedly and looked up at her.  "Did Dumbledore send you down here to give this to me?"

            Natalia shook her head, breathing out in a low voice, "No…it – this one is…different."

            Holding the vial up, Snape saw that indeed, it was very different.  There was a crudeness in the potion that was almost humorous.  "Then how…who gave this to you?"

            She bit her lip, not wanting to admit that she made it as she saw he was not pleased by it, whispering after a moment, "Please, just take it.  I…I don't want you to die."

            He chuckled softly at this, saying most bitterly, "I'm not going to die, you know.  I can't die as long as she," he gestured off to a distance, "Is alive."

            Watching her professor apprehensively, Natalia said in a timid voice, "Please take it."

            "I won't." he replied quietly and firmly. 

            "You…you won't?"

            "No," he said, looking up at her, "Not unless you tell me who made this."

            She glanced away quickly, her breath quickening.  "I…I cannot." she muttered, half to herself, half to the professor.

            Snape frowned and stood up, placing the vial on the table.  "Then I will not take it."      

            "But you must!" she protested, urgency and concern filled in her voice. 

            Veering around viciously, he leaned very close to her and yelled in a hoarse tone, "You will not tell me what I must and mustn't do!  I cannot take this because of the guilt that will mount in me, do you not understand that?  I cannot take this as a Death Eater, the least worthy of anyone to accept anything!  How dare you tell me what is necessary and not!"

            His words rang in her ears as she sat shaking in fear inches away from him, terrified at the anger he had unleashed on her.  "I…I'm sorry." she whispered, trying hard not to shed any tears.  He released his grip on her chair and sank back into the seat across from her, regretting that he had lashed out at her so harshly.  "I apologize, Natalia," he sighed in a low voice, "You probably don't even know what this is.  The reason why I cannot take it is because this," he gestured to the potion," I believe, is a Revivifying Restorative, and such a potion requires the element of an Occamy feather.  Whoever has access to one is very powerful, and therefore can be incredibly helpful or incredibly deadly."  Looking intently at her, he added, "However, this potion was not made with much…aptitude, therefore, I fear that there may have been something harmful added to it that may cause me much damage."

            The tears that clung to her eyes ran down against her will now as she uttered in a trembling voice, "I…I made it."

            Snape looked up in surprise and asked in a low voice, "What do you mean?"

            She shook her head, replying, "I read about it in my mother's old potion book and thought I could do something to help you.  I'm sorry, it was really stupid, and I ended up waking you and …"  She trailed off, looking away from the Potions Master.

            "You…you acquired the royal jelly and Occamy feather?"

            "Yes," she whispered out, not daring to look at him.

            "But how – you had an Occamy feather?"

            Nodding quietly, she sat further back in her seat, fearing his reaction.

            "Who gave it to you?  Surely you could not have acquired it on your own." he said, leaning attentively toward the girl.

            "My–"  She stopped herself, remembering that she was not to give away SaDaga's identity.  "I'm sorry, I cannot tell you."

            "How can you not tell me who gave it to you and expect me to –" he started angrily, but stopped himself as he saw her look away bleakly into the fire. 

            "A god," she finally whispered, "A god gave it to me as a present.  I apologize for not being able to tell you his name, but I must keep my promise to him."

            After a moment, he asked, "Can you assure me that it will not be detrimental to my health?"

            She looked him thoughtfully in the eye, searching unsuccessfully for trust in his gaze as she replied in a quiet voice, "Yes, I promise it will not do you any harm."

            He watched as she silently got up and left his chambers in a hurry, realizing regretfully that he had not shown a shred of trust for her or any gratitude for her efforts.

            The next morning, Harry, Ron, and Hermione were chatting away excitedly about their coming excursion to Hogsmeade planned for the afternoon while they quickly ate breakfast.  Hermione noticed that Natalia was poking quietly at her eggs as she neglected to intake any of her meal.  "What's wrong?" the mousy haired girl inquired.

            Natalia looked up at her and muttered, "Nothing.  I just did not sleep well last night."

            The other girl frowned and said, "Don't worry, we'll get you a lot of treats while we're at Hogsmeade.  I do wish you could come with us."

            "Yes, thank you," the Slytherin replied politely, her thoughts drifting to other things.

Snape started on his potatoes slowly, savoring each flavor that touched his senses.  He had not felt this well since…he did not even remember when.  The girl wasn't lying when she said that it wouldn't do me any harm, he thought, nearly chuckling to himself.  At the thought of Natalia, he looked up, searching for her at the Gryffindor table.  The other students were all talking excitedly amongst themselves, no doubt about their trip to Hogsmeade.  He rolled his eyes.  But the girl…she was not eating, not even talking breathlessly like the other students.  No, she was sitting next to the animated Hermione, poking consistently at her eggs, obviously tired from the dark circles that had taken rest under her eyes.  She concentrated wholly on vivisecting her scrambled eggs until the other girl asked her something, causing her to look up.  Snape frowned deeply as he saw the look on her face, seeing that she was indeed, very tired, and a bit forlorn.

            "Natalia, what happened to your neck?" Hermione whispered to her friend, gesturing to the bruises that adorned her throat.  

            The raven-haired girl looked up at her friend, a tinge of alarm entering her eyes.  However, her voice was weary and indifferent as she replied, "Nothing.  I just…fell of the bed last night."  She dared not look at the Potions Master in fear that she would see the same distrust in his eyes as she had experienced the night before.  Sighing quietly, she turned to her friends, informing them that she had a headache and that she was going to retire to the dormitory, wishing them all a fun day at Hogsmeade.  In slow, careful steps, she shakily made her way down to the Slytherin Common Room, placing herself on the couch for a moment, and then lying down in exhaustion, succumbing to the sleep that she had lost. 

            She awoke a while later at a cool touch on her cheek.  Looking up, she saw a man with an angular face, an eagle's nose, and dark brooding eyes that had a touch of fire in them, seated, watching her.  Sitting up, she shook her head, stifling a yawn.  "Sorry," she muttered, "I had not realized that someone else was in the room."

            A frown spread across the man's face, stretching over his features languidly.  "Natalia," he started, "You didn't eat anything at breakfast."

            The girl rubbed her eyes and said sleepily, "No, I was not hungry."

            "I doubt your body thinks the same."

            She did not look up at him, seemingly uninterested in the topic of choice.  "I apologize for my behavior last night," he uttered quietly at last, "It was callous of me to say the things I did."       

            "No," she replied, folding and unfolding her hands, "It is fine."

            "That is all?" he asked, raising his eyebrows in question. 

            Looking at him full in the face, she said quietly, "It makes no difference.  You would have hardly changed anyway."

            "Well," he growled out, "I see that you have brought upon yourself the luxury of being a judge of character.  Perhaps you should look at yourself.  You are not such a saint as you would like to believe."

            She lifted her gaze to his eyes, her look hardening as she replied in a quiet voice, "I meant the potion's effect, professor, not you."

            Snape sat in silence for a while, berating himself inwardly for affronting the girl yet again.  After a tense silence, Natalia got up quietly, heading to the trapdoor. 

 "Where are you going?" he demanded.

            "To take a walk outside, if you do not mind."

            He frowned, and then muttered, "I will come with you.  You are not to be alone today."

            The two strolled under a clear winter sky, relishing the sting of cold that came before the snow.  They had already made their way to the lake when Snape finally uttered, "What made you think that the Revivifying Restorative was the correct potion?"

            After not hearing her speak for a good minute, he looked at her, saying, "I mean that in the most curious of ways, and not from a critical view."

            She concentrated on the ground, looking away to the reflection of the sky on the lake.  "Will you not speak to me?" he asked quietly.

            He followed her to the edge of the lake where she sat down, brushing the surface of the water lightly.  "My conscience pushed me to help you, professor," she said finally in a soft voice, "Not I."

            "It does not do to be infuriated over such petty things, Natalia.  Besides, had I shown gratitude to you, it would have been nothing more than a series of words and phrases."

            She placed her hand on the water, steadying the ripples.  "Then perhaps you believe that people are machines also, completely without thought or feeling," she whispered, getting up and walking away back to the school.

            Snape sighed wearily, looking moodily out into the horizon for a moment.  Perhaps I should have been born without a tongue, he thought with a scowl.

Natalia locked herself in her room with her dragon, not desiring the presence of the Potions Master any longer.  She sat on her bed petting her dragon's back absentmindedly, thinking of the inhumane manner the Potions Master bore on everyone around him.  Suddenly, the dragon hopped off her bed, transforming immediately into SaDaga.  "Alright, alright, enough!" he said indignantly, "You are going to rub all of my scales off one of these days."  Seeing that the girl was in a melancholy mood, he sat back down next to her, saying, "You know, it is not his fault that he is such a hard-hearted person.  Had you been through half the things that he has experienced, you would be bitter and resentful of everyone also."

            "I just tried to help him," she said quietly.

            "Yes, I know," the god responded, "But you have to know that he holds too much guilt to accept any help from anyone.  He does not feel that he is worthy of anyone's pity, that he is only getting what he deserves."

            "But he does not deserve any of this torture," she protested.

            "No, no, of course he does not, but that is not our choice to make."

            Looking away, Natalia said after a moment, "Can you think of anything to help him?"

            The god furrowed his brow, responding, "I hardly think it is my place to meddle with the matters of his life."

            Frowning, she demanded in a cross tone, "It is not your place to meddle, or you just do not want to make the effort?"

            "What are you saying?" he questioned, looking at her closely.

            "It is well within your power to aid him.  At least you could help me convince him to accept help from Dumbledore."

            "I cannot do that," he replied, "That would give my identity away."

            "Your identity?" she cried, "You care about your identity when a man's life is at risk?"

            The god looked grimly at her, seeing that she indeed cared for the professor's well being very much, even more than she could understand.  "Well," he said after a long while of thinking, "There is something that may be done, although it would be terribly difficult."

            "What is it?" she asked.

            He looked up at her, saying, "As I understand it, your professor's condition will worsen due to the abstraction of his life force by the faerie, Mab."  His face grimaced in disgust as he uttered her name.  "Therefore, it is believed that he will live physically, but not with a soul, if it does get to that severity."  Looking at the girl, he continued.  "However, the means that your Headmaster has attempted at curing your professor would only heal a fraction of his being, barely a bandage for a gaping wound.  So what you are asking for is a cure for this affliction of his, something that will heal him of his mortal wounds.  Even as a god, there are limitations to how far we can mend a person's life.  Had it been a physical injury, I could have easily restored him to a state of when he was twenty, however, this is a matter of the emotions, of the soul – this is far more difficult.  What I propose is indeed very difficult a task, nearly impossible, but I believe that you will find it in your heart to try."  From his robes, he produced a tattered and worn piece of cloth, square in shape but so brown and frayed that it barely bore a sure form any longer.  On this piece of cloth was a sort of map, drawn with great detail with moving features if one looked close enough.  "This is a map to the Spring of Prolusaisi from within Shambhala.  I will not be able to help you enter into Shambhala, as even a god cannot help a mortal enter the land if they do not have a purpose there.  However, should you find yourself in Shambhala by some stroke of luck, you will only have to follow this map, and you shall find yourself at the Spring of Prolusaisi."  He paused to see if the girl comprehended him.  "At the bank of the spring, an old man stands on guard.  If you are able to defeat this man in a duel, he will allow you to take water from the spring but for a price.  You must give something of your own to him, but not anything that you have to offer.  He will on his own account choose what he will take from you, and if you refuse him, he will allow you to go free, but never again will you be able to take water from the Spring of Prolusaisi."

            "You cannot get it for me?" she inquired.

            "No," the god replied, "I am leaving today to attend to matters involving the Gala."

            She frowned, saying, "But I thought the Gala was to be in Shambhala."

            SaDaga shook his head, responding, "Shambhala will not accept just any mortal into its realm, much less millions of them, which is why I cannot take you to the Spring of Prolusaisi.  However," he looked off to a distance, "I believe that you may be able to get there, but at a cost."  He placed a hand on her shoulder, adding, "If you do go in search of the spring, Natalia, I can assure you that there will be times when you come very close to the edge of death.  But when these times do come, remember that you are the Bearer and to trust yourself."  He looked out the window and after a moment, uttered, "I must leave now if I am to get there before sundown.  I wish you success, Natalia, and I will be watching over you."  With that, he transformed into a dragon once again and flew out the window, ascending to the afternoon sky. 

            It was near one when Natalia tired of looking at the tattered map.  Placing it in her robes, she left her chambers, intent on going to Snape's library and finish reading about the Seven Sacred Emeralds.  She crept past his office quietly, careful not to disturb the professor from his work, and entered his chambers, going directly to his library.  As she reached the shelf holding the Elven books, she noticed that Bezazelis' Anthology of Anomalous Powers had been placed at the very top.  Getting the ladder from a nearby shelf, she climbed up to the top, careful to not teeter off the rungs.  As she reached for the book, she found that it was out of her reach by an inch.  Turning her head, she blindly grasped for the book and quickly clutched it to her chest, descending carefully down the ladder.  She leant against the shelf, eagerly opening the book that she held.  However, as she looked down, she saw that it was not the anthology that she had meant to get, but another book called Tuuma ne Ungwelen (To Move By The Web of The Spider's Star).  Though it was a very large book, it was incredibly light, more so than if it was a thin volume.  Curiosity taking over, she opened the book and looked inside, only to see that it was completely void of pages.  In place of the paper that should have been bound inside, there was a large black mirror reflecting Natalia as clearly as water.  Frowning, she gently touched the mirror, only to feel her finger slip through.  She drew her hand back in alarm, and then gathering more courage, touched the book again, this time, placing her entire hand through the mirror.  To her surprise, she felt cold air on the other side of the mirror and as she slowly reached around, she felt her hand brush against a solid piece of metal.