Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.
Elrin Danse is my own creation and the story is my own.
Chapter Three
Awake, my soul – it is the sun
She wasn't interested in the conversation and she couldn't hear what they were saying anyway. At this particular minute all she just wanted to do was abandon herself to the warmth and of being tightly bound. Then a quick moment of strangeness, of disorientation that was disturbing, but which didn't last long. There was a hot smell of nutmeg embedded in what she was lying on and which was warm and protective. When she was very small, her mother had convinced her to smell some grated nutmeg and what an intoxicating aroma it was: enough to send her swirling and dancing round the kitchen in delight. The memory fascinated her: she had forgotten it entirely. What she was lying against was in motion and making feel slightly queasy. She wished it would stop still for a moment, and feeling that she was positioned awkwardly, moved to get more comfortable. An oath came rumbling out of it, which puzzled her.
Do beds speak? Perhaps they do. Mirrors and hats do. Why should beds be any different?
"Poppy! Poppy! Damn it!" she heard it shout, angrily. What had it to be angry about, she couldn't imagine. Perhaps she should shift her body further around, so that she could feel what it was she was lying on, and as she began to do so, came to consciousness and nearly gasped in dismay as she realized who was just placing her down onto a bed. She felt his silken hair drop briefly on her face as his arms round her back and legs relieved themselves of their duty. Simultaneously, the long row of buttons down his jacket brushed against her breasts. Her body, in a relaxed state and with a mind of its own, moved fractionally towards the heat and not away from it and her hand grabbed his sleeve briefly before he managed to release her.
"I'm fine," she said, a little drowsily. "Really." The bed felt cold and bare and she tried to pull her robes closer to compensate. Deep in the pit of her stomach was a protest of abandonment, but her embarrassment was fever pitch. He loomed over her, his face a mask.
"Severus, what have you been doing now?" a voice spoke from the other side of her, and she turned to see at a mature woman with an old-style nurse's uniform on, hat high and white and stiff approach confidently, her shoes sounding loud in the empty ward. She had a bluff manner, and it was obvious that she was teasing him, but he looked at her darkly and spun off immediately back out of the ward.
Poppy tutted. "Such a sensitive soul."
Sensitive? About as sensitive as lightning hitting a sapling on a hilltop.
"I think I must have fainted. But I'm alright now".
"I believe that I will be the judge of whether you are alright," she said, getting down to business. "I will want to do some checks on you to make sure".
Feeling a little chilled, she succumbed to the kindness of Poppy, who fussed over her with chocolate and odd drinks and she accepted it with good grace, glad to be away from the staff, kind though most of them were. She wanted a little space.
Slytherin. Impossible. How could this happen to her? What weird bit of destiny was having a joke at her expense?
She felt no blame could be attributed to him for being furious, because she thought it was crazy as well. The hat must be faulty. However, she couldn't think of it right that minute, because she felt a terrible urge to close her eyes. She snuggled up to a great white pillow and fell asleep and continued unmoving through to the next day, so she was unaware of the Headmaster and Minerva checking up on her with Madam Pomfrey.
In the morning, Poppy said that she could find nothing wrong and that Elrin was free to go for breakfast and but believed that she was just a little overwrought, what with being new there.
What did she know?
She felt that she aught to go and see the Headmaster, and tell him that something had to be done. At breakfast, she sat as far away from her 'Head of House' as much as possible, hoping that he was not going to make a fuss about her in front of everyone, but he seemed preoccupied with his coffee and fortunately Xiomara was delighted to tell her about the Quiddich game the previous afternoon. Breakfast and sport – not her favourite combination, but Madam Hooch's enthusiasm was infectious and was again glad of her as a diversion.
Was that a Slytherin trait? For heaven's sake, stop thinking like that.
She shivered. Albus stopped to ask if she was well, and after her assurances, asked her to come to his office later. The password was 'humbug."
He's an old bastard, she thought affectionately. He'll sort it out. She relaxed a little.
It was when she was making her way to go through the door, when she and the person she had most wanted to avoid nearly collided. They both stepped back hastily before they were in danger of doing so: the air between them charged full of power. She swore that if she had put her hand out, she could have touched it physically. Being conscious of the day before, she avoided his eyes. They both continued to stand stock still until she realized that he was waiting for her to go before him, so she nodded civilly and went through the door, the back of her bare neck and her back prickling through her clothes. She prayed that she would not stumble on a flagstone as she carefully made her way through the expanse of the hallway, but made sure she kept her head up.
When eventually Elrin managed to get to the Headmaster's office, she was a little early so she stopped to admire the sculpture by the wall. As she turned around, the Head of Slytherin seemed to appear from out of nowhere and descend upon her. Literally. With a sweep of his robes, he had grabbed her by the arm before she could say "humbug". Naturally resenting this abduction, she tried to wrestle free, but his grip upon her wrist was excruciating.
"Come with me. Now."
So she found herself complying: staggering after him through the corridors.
Where on earth to? Was he marching her out of the castle?
He was pulling ferociously, so she used some of his propulsion to keep up with him. Not that there was any choice: up several flights of stairs and through several corridors. One or two portraits she could see looked after them with interest on their faces. She felt extremely stupid being dragged in this way, their robes entangling as they went, but realized in a fit of disgust with herself, that her heart was despite her best intentions, singing.
Cut it out: this man is insane. You would no more go near him than a rabid wolf.
Eventually they came to a large portrait – old fashioned she thought: medieval armies fighting like tiny black beetles against a backdrop of cold mountains.
"Saruman" he growled and yanked her in. Her arm hurt but she was damned if she was going to make a fuss. Then he stood her in the centre of the most incredible room she had ever been in. It was dark: literally and in all probability metaphysically. Nearly every object was black: black leather couch, huge forbidding furniture with strange dark objects positioned around that she could not make out, even with the eerie subterranean light. This warm marine blue that bathed the huge room did not spoil the rest of the neutrals of black and silver and serpent green on carpet and textiles and there was a spot of vivid colour from a bowl of poisonous looking apples on a table. Above, the architectural features dominated the whole with a symphonic riot of heavy arches and pillars. It felt very - male. It was beautiful, but of a beauty that was unlikely to be labelled as such. It was the wild dark beauty of the deepest depths of the ocean or an ancient spellbound forest.
"This", he purred in her ear, his voice vibrating through her entire body "is the Slytherin common room. Do you imagine that I would deem you worthy of this House? Have you have the audacity to believe that this is your milieu and consequently - make yourself at ease?"
It wasn't a kind place, it wasn't a comfortable place, but it was – astonishing. All of it seemed to reach into her from some distant time which she could not remember, knowing that it was nothing she had ever experienced or seen before. It made her think of childhood dreams of black elvish horses with red eyes and sinister mountains, of ancient prophecies and mystery and magnificence. It even made her think of before she was born; as if she had memories that stretched out before into a jumble of deep experiences of different worlds, different times, different cultures.
"Do you seriously imagine that you belong here?" he asked, grabbing her shoulders to face him. He waited, looking down at her with those eyes that mirrored the room, to hear her tell him that he was right.
They're made of the same substance: in accord with one another. One an offshoot of the other. Hate one, hate the other.
As he continued to scrutinize her, did she imagine seeing for the tiniest second, the merest shimmer of doubt in his eyes? Or something unreadable.
"There is nothing to suppose..." she started and stopped as both of them moved their heads to face the door. Involuntarily, she flinched slightly and wondered if he had felt it. Not that she had anything to be guilty about. There, coming through the door was a young man, lean and tall with sleek blonde hair.
Not bad, she thought. Young, but already devastating.
"You're early, Mr.Malfoy," drawled the Professor, deliberately holding back the force of his energy that he had expressed to her, taking his hands off her slowly and casually. He was clearly irritated; she could read that much but did not express it. The young prefect sauntered in, obviously glad to see his Head of House as the contempt that evidently normally lived on his face was in abeyance. There was also a vulnerability about him that surprised her.
"Excuse me sir."
"Well?"
"My father wished me to give you this." And handed the Potions Master a scroll with his long, fine hands.
"I apologise for interrupting…" said Draco, looking at her, obviously puzzled and with more than a hint of arrogance in his voice, but careful to observe the niceties. He sounded just like his father. Did he think that something had been going on?
The young man stood there, all elegance, pale beauty and superior composure.
"We are leaving now, Mr.Malfoy, and I am indebted you for this" the Potions Master said, stuffing the scroll somewhere in his robes. "I will speak to you after lunch." he sounded business-like but not aggressive. She had not heard him speak moderately like that to anyone before. He then pushed her firmly towards and out of the door. There was no introduction.
Of course, she had forgotten. In this world, not only was there Dumbledore, but Voldemort. How could she have forgotten? Where were her brains? Her father was right: he always said she was on another planet.
As soon as the painting swung shut – she turned on him, determined to assert her dignity. "I would be grateful if you would not handle me like baggage, Professor"
He began to stride down the corridor, she following.
"Then, do as I tell you."
The arrogance of him was breathtaking.
"Why should I?"
She wanted to say," and who the hell are you?"
He swung towards her. "Because, Madam, I know what I am accomplishing. And you do not. You are out of your depth and you know it."
"I was brought here for some reason. And I know more than you think."
He snarled, backing her up against a stone wall. She could feel the deep cold hardness through her robes. The combination of black heat and his hostility breathing its ice over her made her wonder if she would end up at Madam Pomfrey's again.
"Brought here? You brought yourself. You worm your way in here…"
Worm? She desperately wanted to laugh, but not one iota of that amusement sneaked out on her face.
"You're an unidentified element. There is nothing to indicate what you are. You have no allegiance that I can distinguish and no perceptible vocation. You arrived out of nowhere with no significant past and there is no historical precedence for someone like you. Your motives – could be purely – malicious."
Not only insane, but paranoid as well. Did he have to get so close?
"So let me warn you" his voice vibrating with a malevolence that almost stopped her breathing "that if you put one toe out of line I will personally curse you with something so terrible that you will be screaming to be put out of your misery, and there will be no-one to do it."
The contradictory feelings that lingered on the periphery of her awareness were pushed as far away as possible, into the deepest recesses of her heart to prevent his aura of authority dominating her totally in body and soul. Luckily, her head was clear.
"Providing," she said as coolly as she could manage, her hands shaking just a fraction, her chin titled up towards him." that you are sure that I have done so – and not just because you are mad at me".
"There are no conditions." And then he sneered "but if I was likely to do what you suggest, half this school would have been blasted to Kingdom Come before now."
That made her smile and suddenly he grabbed her arm again but was relieved that this time he did not hold her quite so brutally.
"We are going to the Headmaster."
"Which is where I was going before you abducted me."
The Headmaster was found feeding Fawkes a treat and straightened up as they came through the door together.
"Now then Severus, sit down please." It was an order, though quietly spoken. "And Elrin, would you care to sit here? And are you sure you are well enough?"
They sat as far apart as was politely possible under the old man's nose.
"Yes, thank you Albus I'm really am fine. I've never had that happen before," she added hastily in case they thought that she was the kind to collapse at the merest hint of a problem.
There was a mild snort from the other side of the room. He obviously thought she was.
"Fawkes seems to have a little cold. I was just tempting him with a little something to help." He smiled at them sitting there both silent and unresponsive.
"Alright, one at a time then. Severus, you first."
The Head of Slytherin got up and paced around the room, all ice now – no fire.
"First of all, the hat is either wrong or there has been some dark magic at work here, because – this – woman – is not Slytherin. Secondly we know nothing about her and I find that very suspicious: we know nothing about her authenticity, her allegiances, or her objectives. Thirdly she is fundamentally a Muggle. Fourthly, if she has witch-powers, which I doubt, she has no had no training. Fifthly I question her capability to speak Phoenix. " He stopped, looking down his enormous nose at her. "Sixthly, she is – she is – "
"Yes?" asked Albus, apparently intrigued, eyes twinkling.
"What on earth was he going to say?"
"Irresolute! She has no knowledge of what she is and what she is doing. "
Elrin got the feeling he would have liked to have said weak. Apparently finished, the Potions Master then lounged against the wall behind in what was likely, she felt, to be an habitual posture, his arms folded triumphantly.
"Very well. Elrin?"
"I agree with – the Professor that..."
Albus interrupted "We are all on first name terms here."
It was awkward getting the name out. "I - agree with - Severus – that it was some kind of mistake that I have been sorted into Slytherin. I can't be – I am not – I am not –"
"Evil?" came the sneer from the corner.
"Well, you put it so well" she said turning towards him – now her turn to freeze. "All this pure-blood nonsense. There is enough in history - Muggle history to know so. All this prejudice…it's not only offensive, it is a crime against humanity……and then there is dark wizardry bias….. this … Voldemort link…. Do you deny that there have been more dark wizards coming out from Slytherin than anywhere else?"
"No" he snapped.
As if he needed reminding
And then she suddenly remembered something else and stopped and looked sharply at Severus.
How could she have forgotten?
The pause was so long, both men's eyes slid over to one another though she did not notice. They were both still. Very still.
"Please go on," said the Headmaster almost inaudibly.
"I…"
How much could she say? How much was conjecture? It seemed unlikely. Too unlikely.
"Nothing, my mistake."
"You are sure?" asked the Head, looking at her meaningfully over his half-moons.
Her eyes flicked back over to him, involuntarily. No, of course not. She was thinking skewed.
He's an ill-humoured autocrat, obviously used to having his own way.
"Yes, yes."
"Then let us take these points one by one shall we?" said Albus, putting his hands together, his eyes fixed on both of them, not smiling now. Firstly, I have checked the Sorting Hat and it is working perfectly correctly. Minerva, Filius and myself have gone over it together just in case. It is correct. It was neither faulty nor was it fooled.
"That's – " started the Potions Master.
The Headmaster's hand was up for silence.
"However, it does seem to be an unusual choice for a person – like Elrin. So there must be a good reason, even if it is not obvious at this time. "
Either he did not know, or he would not tell her: he didn't really give much away for all his charm and kindness.
"What did you feel when you went into the Slytherin Common room?" he asked. She blinked in surprise but concentrated on the question.
"I – was – amazed and thrilled and confused. All of those things."
"You were drawn." Albus breathed slowly, stroking his beard.
"Yes. I was also afraid, well, I wasn't actually fearful – more like awed, afraid of the potential of what it is that is there, which could be dark wizardry, or not. It was – incomprehensible – secretive – something so - profound that I find it really hard to say anything about it."
She could see out of the corner of her eye how – Severus - even though still as ice, moved his head a fraction.
"But I am not comfortable with it. I do not think I belong – exactly. No more than if I would have belonged in a tiger's den. Still, it's fascinating to look at, with the safety of bars."
The tiger as well as the den.
"What if you had been put into Gryffindor? " asked Albus.
"I would have thought that I would have been more suited, more at ease perhaps. Except, except – that – the Slytherin room …"
And also – also – oh no – too truthful, too painful.
"would draw me: It would be like a deep magnet, calling me, because I can feel it even now. I would not be whole. There would be a whole chunk of me missing.
But the truth is, neither would I be whole in Slytherin."
I don't belong anywhere. But I'm damned if I am going to admit it in front of HIM.
"Irresolute! It came from her own mouth." smirked the voice from behind.
"Yes, irresolute. You have her there Severus. Or maybe" - the Head did not finish. He left it unsaid, and then patted her arm as he got up. "Coffee? "
Snapping his fingers, a house-elf came and took the order, and then he continued speaking to her. "Slytherin is about power is it not?"
"Yes. But it's the last thing I would ever want."
"There you go – not a Slytherin bone in her body" interrupted Severus as he took the coffee from the reappeared house-elf.
"There are many forms of power." The Headmaster said quietly, leaning forward as if to emphasis the words to her. "I want you to think on that in the time to come."
"Power is dangerous."
"It certainly is."
"So you are not going to release me from being in Slytherin?"
"The hat's declaration is final. It comes from Deep Magick. I am merely a referee." And smiled at his description of himself, thinking perhaps of Xiomara and his lost galleons.
She could feel behind her the boiling emotions of the Potions Master without even looking. But obviously, he hadn't given up the battle as he continued.
"There is still the mystery of why she – Elrin - is here in the first place, from "– and handed them the coffee – "wherever she came as a - Muggle?
"Have you forgotten, my dear Severus, about her freezing you the day before yesterday with wandless magic?"
"Fluke" he growled, retreating to his favourite place with his drink. " Do it again."
"I don't know the word I used." She admitted, head up undefeated. "But I would do it again" and glared at him, hoping to intimidate him.
Exasperated, Severus just shook his head.
He was wasting his time.
"A half-witch then at best," he conceded, with no training and you want her connected to Slytherin? Albus - how am I going to justify this to Lucius?"
"You will have to say that you are under orders from me, 'the senile idiot'"
Severus stared at his coffee. "I can't use that one all the time." And half smiled. It lit his face up and she stared, fascinated. It made him look so much younger. Pity he didn't do it more often. He saw her looking and jerked his head away. "I am also sceptical that it is possible for anyone to speak Phoenix. Let alone – a half-witch." He continued, unyielding.
He called her a liar with such diplomacy. But then she did not claim to speak it. Was it really possible? Not in her wildest dreams.
"Fawkes can speak to Elrin," said Albus, looking towards the giant bird in the corner, who had been listening carefully, but who was ostensibly rearranging his feathers. I have known him for a very long time. I have seen that he can do so. I heard it in his cadences. I heard her and you have heard her. But we will soon have the opportunity to find out." The Headmaster then rose from his seat, which indicated, to her mind at least, that the meeting was over.
"Severus, you have been wanting for some time to investigate those papers. I suggest that you do so with Elrin."
That put the tiger amongst the owls.
He nearly shattered the china on his way towards her and Albus. For a real second she wondered about safety for herself and the old man.
"This is my life's work you are talking about Headmaster!" he shouted, rage in his face and his body: deadly white against the austerity of his back robes. This – woman - is to mess up my work with inaccurate or even fabricated translations? Putting me on the wrong track? Wasting my time: my precious time. There IS no time, Albus." He looked like a trapped animal and a flicker of sympathy shot through her.
"Severus," Albus commanded "I want you to accept Elrin as your own and you have an opportunity to complete what it is you have always wanted to do. That is an order." And she saw that the Headmaster was not known to be the greatest wizard of his age for nothing, as the potency of his willpower filled the room. There was no argument: either for the Head of Slytherin or for herself.
In despair, the Potions Master, with several thin locks of black hair clinging to his white face, turned to Elrin, who was just as pale. He seemed to have lost some of his verbalization, as he snapped his order to her. "You will convey yourself to the dungeons: my office: Monday, 7.00pm. Sharp."
"One toe" he hissed as he passed close to her and slammed the door on his way out.
Acknowledgement to Robin Hood Prince of Thieves and Sue of the GB for the near quote: my office – etc.
Also unknown ff writer for a similar 'senile idiot' quote. Will acknowledge if anyone knows who it is.
(misquoted hymn by Francois H. Barthelemon. Melody - "Morning Hymn", 1785