A Traveller's Tale
by Greta Jameson
2. Traveller's Rest
Just past dawn, a blackbird began the morning chorus to which Snape woke. On most days, he would rise early, before most others and begin his tasks when the world was still fresh. But this morning, he lay on his back with his eyes closed, wrapped in a white linen sheet and listened as the sound of their varied voices swelled into a symphony. He tried to focus his attention on only one bird at a time, and found it quite difficult. Some voices were stronger and easier to follow than others, and others softer. The birds flew around, flitting from the trees to the castle walls and back, and their voices moved with them. Two and three voices occasionally seemed to combine and make a completely new sound. And there were so many birds! And Miranda could hear all of our thoughts in this same way, he thought. How strange that must be!
His mind now cleared of the previous evening's passions, he reviewed the facts of the evening as his eyes idly swept over the white bed curtains that surrounded him. They had a conversation, which was by turn enjoyable and insulting; she spoke to him in her telepathic voice; he had regrettably overreacted, and they each went off to their rooms.
What he learned from last night was far greater than the events themselves.
It was clear that Miranda was a member of the Network. Had Albus given her leave to tell him that he was being hunted? Probably not. Her temper had gotten the better of her professionalism She should work on that. Why did he recall her? Too dangerous? Unlikely. Had she recently made mistakes? Possibly. Ten years in the field without a break was a very long time.
He sat up in bed and his eyes fell on the dagger lying on the bedside table. Intricate filigree decorated the crimson leather scabbard and wound round thumbnail size rubies and emeralds on the hilt.
He grabbed the handle and unsheathed the old weapon. Such superior craftsmanship! The foot-long blade was strong and straight with a tapered tip. It had a keel in the center of the blade and had grooved edges to channel the blood of its victims. He balanced the knife on his hand at the base of his forefinger. He smiled, and knocked the knife up in the air with a sharp thrust of his hand, caught it above his head - just as in the games that he and his brother Salazar used to play as boys.
His smile faded as he thought about Salazar. As children, no two brothers could have been closer. But as their father rose in Voldemort's ranks, the brother's relationship grew more strained until Snape's own declaration of allegiance to the Dark Lord had caused his mother's suicide and had torn the family apart.
Snape sat quietly with the dagger on his lap as he wondered whether he should finally answer Salazar's call to return home. He hadn't seen him in years.
He saw his face reflected in the blade and sat up very tall, arching his lower back slightly, and tensing his legs as if on horseback. That was how he looked long ago! He could stop anyone in their path with a simple glance and arch of his brow. In his presence, the fools he commanded cowered, and strangers stopped to deliberate their actions. Miranda's words drifted into his mind: "You were once so magnificent. . ." Yes, he once was, wasn't he?
Wait a moment! How did she know what he looked like back then? She was a child. He reviewed the faces in the Druben. Mostly men, and few married couples . . . but no children. No, that couldn't be the connection - what would an auror child be doing in Voldemort's court? Oh that woman - she was maddening! Each revelation brought a litany of further questions.
He slammed his fist down on the bed, quickly dressed and penned a letter.
Miranda awoke when the rays of the nearly midday sun caressed her face. It had been years since she had slept so soundly for so long. She lay on her bedroll by the fire for a long time, lazily letting the thoughts of the other inhabitants of the castle lap at her consciousness.
She made her way to the bath to find an empty room with a toilet and a white clawfoot tub. That would never do! She closed her eyes, focused her thoughts on the image of the grotto, and smiled as the sound of falling water rushing over stones greeted her. She slipped out of her filthy clothes and dove into the deep pool that now lay before her. Oh yes, it was this cold! No, a bit warmer, warmer still . . . good, she thought, adjusting the water temperature. Now it was both comfortable and refreshing.
She swam around in the pool and conjured moss, some wildflowers, and other details that she remembered. Then she floated on the surface, supported only by the lightness of the air in her lungs.
When she exhaled, she started to sink beneath the surface, until she filled her lungs again with the clear Himalayan air. She relaxed, extinguished all thoughts from her mind, and focused only on the tidal rise and fall of her breath.
When she was through with her bath, Miranda spent the better part of the day carefully inspecting or depassing her room. Wizards and witches - especially the dark kind - can place miniscule cracks in the world that can be opened to form hidden tunnels from one place to the next. Just as easily, these passages can be closed, leaving only a tiny knot in space. If these channels are not removed, they can be reopened at any time, if one knows where they are or how to look for them.
She held her long pyramidal prism up to the open window, slowly and systematically moved the rainbows of refracted light around the room - quadrant by quadrant - looking for Passes.
None on the left. She repeated the process on the other side.
Wait! What's that? She peered at the spot, but couldn't determine whether it was indeed a Pass or not. She got out a large, almost black lens and held it up to the window. A thin stream of bluish-purple light issued from the lens, but it didn't reach all the way to the far end of the room. She focused her thoughts to amplify the incoming light, and a dark violet streak shone across the room.
She called silently for Albus, and in a few minutes he arrived at her door. Miranda showed him the knot in space, first with the refracting prism, then with the dark lens. She steadied the filter as Albus approached the spot and examined it. "Yes, it is curious, isn't it?"
He tried half a dozen complex spells and the Pass did not yield. After a long pause he quietly said, "Alohomora," and the dark spot started to flux and became more diffuse as it grew larger until a brick tunnel appeared in the middle of Miranda's room.
They stood in silence and tried to penetrate the darkness of the hallway with their eyes.
"A child's spell," Miranda pointed out.
"Yes, interesting choice. You stay with here. I'll see where this leads."
After several minutes, he clambered down from the entrance a bit out of breath and said, "It is part of a maze of Passes running throughout the entire school. Offices, dormitories, classrooms, sleeping quarters, as far as I can tell from a cursory examination, it appears to touch every room in the castle except for my office." He looked gravely at her. "The disturbing thing is that the usual security team inspected the school at the beginning of the summer. I will send owls out immediately, calling for eradication experts. In the meantime, we will have to find secure quarters for you, my dear."
"Thanks Albus," Miranda said quietly.
"Is there something you'd like to tell me dear?"
"No . . . I mean . . . Well yes, as a matter of fact, there is," she said glancing out the window to avoid Albus penetrating gaze.
"It's about Snape isn't it? I felt your quarrel last night from across the room."
"He's absolutely horrible, Albus! He deliberately baited me into an argument, and I . . ."
"And you were more than happy to oblige, I'm sure!" he said, smiling. "You seem to have inherited your father's temper, as well as his outstanding transformation ability."
"I just don't think it's going to work out, that's all. I can't imagine having to sit next to him at meals for the rest of the term."
"Just give it another try," Albus said as he patted her shoulder. "I brought you two - my two best - together for a reason, remember? We need to gather all of our defenses for the coming battle if we are to prevail. Now, when Snape returns. Just try to patch things up . . ."
"Returns? Has he gone somewhere? With the nature of the threats against him, he really shouldn't be . . ."
"Without any explanation whatsoever, he requested my permission to go visit his brother."
"And you let him? Just like that?" she worried loudly.
"Yes, but I sent two aurors to follow him and told them to stay out of sight. He would never willingly accept their assistance for a personal errand. "And yes," he said with a smile, "they know that he is a gifted concealer."
Miranda paced towards the door and turned quickly, asking, "He's seeing his brother - after all this time? Does he know about all of Salazar's charitable work? He could be walking right into a trap, you know."
"Severus doesn't know a thing about his brother's shifting allegiances. I chose not to tell him. I thought it would do more harm than good. Anyway, he was the one who initiated the meeting. All he said was that it was long overdue."
"Well, he's right about that, at least. Keep me posted, Albus. And if you need me, call me. I'll always help him, you know that."
"You've done more than enough to . . ."
"No Albus. You know as well as I, it's a debt I'll never fully repay."