Title: Looking for Magic in All the Right Places

Chapter Eleven: The Filament of Light

Genre: Romance, Humour, and my response to the WIKTT 'Summer School Challenge.'

Rating: PG-13

Warning: Occasional poetry!

Disclaimer: Please see Chapter One.

Acknowledgements: See Author's Notes for sources and thanks to reviewers.

Chapter Eleven: The Filament of Light

'What in the name of chaos do you think happened?' snapped Parvati, exasperated beyond belief by how thick her classmates were about matters of the heart. 'Snape created a love-spell! If that stupid cow Millicent hadn't screamed when she did, I bet Hermione would have kissed him in front of everybody.'

'That's disgusting,' said Ron, his face wrinkling as if he'd bitten a lemon. 'And no way does that explain how McGonagall regained her Animagus powers.'

'McGonagall was in the front row,' said Padma. 'And Snape's poem was about a cat, remember? She was close enough to feel a kind of--er--side-effect.'

'Miss Know-It-All and the Greasy Git have obviously been working a lot on their chemistry,' Lavender smirked.

'Lav, haul your mind out of the gutter,' said Padma fiercely. 'What's happening isn't sordid. It's magic!'

Heated conversations of a similar kind had broken out all around the room. Many eyes kept glancing over at Hermione and Snape--who, as it happened, were nowhere near each other. Hermione stood with Harry, both looking tense, and Snape had converged with several senior faculty on the two Muggle judges (by this time, of course, the two literary guests were quite used to being converged upon). McCourt appeared to be listening hard to Dumbledore, and Jones was obviously trying to referee an argument between Lupin and Snape.

'What's taking the judges so long?' said Dean. 'There's three contestants left. Declare them all winners, wave our wands around a bit and try to raise some magic one more time, then go to Hogsmeade to celebrate the end of sodding summer school!'

'The rules say only two winners,' said Ron.

'Why?'

'Dunno. Maybe Dumbledore's got only two prizes.'

'Right. One old mop and one old bucketÑsouvenirs from the Headmaster's office.'

Under cover of all the arguments, Harry said in a low voice to Hermione: 'I've decided I'm going to bow out.'

'Why?' said Hermione, startled.

'Look, 'Mione, I don't know what's going on between you and Snape, and gods help me, I'm not sure I really want to know. At least not in detail. But'--he raised his hand as Hermione opened her mouth, ready to protest that nothing, absolutely nothing, was going on '--I think you two are the only hope we have of invoking any magic powerful enough to last more than two seconds.'

'But Harry, you've raised magic. Better than almost any of us.'

'Not the right kind. And not like you two. So'--he smiled crookedly '--It's up to you. Break a leg.'

Harry stepped up to the judges' table and, within about ten seconds, had ended all bickering.

=============

The two contestants stood a few feet apart in the centre of a crowded, stuffy classroom, in the heart of a thousand-year-old crumbling heap of stones and archways. Surrounded by tense, breathing bodies; the focus of dozens of eager eyes . . . yet far as Hermione was concerned, she and Snape were the only souls in the universe: two points of light in a galaxy of darkness.

The time had come to open herself to all possibilities. Hermione filled her lungs and breathed power, imagined expanding past the bounds of flesh to touch, with longing and shy delight, the dark quiet presence standing nearby.

'O make this dancer dance,
this liquid centre spin--
speak the spell unbinding
the flesh I stand within.

For it is you I seek,
The strange heat-death of desire;
I, blind as blundering moth
Circling a heart of fire.

O let this dancer dance,
This yearning centre spin,
That I, opening at last,
May let such power in.'

As Snape began his response, the silence was so profound that he could have whispered each word, and everyone in the back rows would have heard him.

'A fleet, unwary spider.
I mark how close to shadows you climb, entranced,
Mark how you probe the dangerous dark surrounding
By sending forth filament, filament, filament out of yourself;
Ever unreeling them, ever tirelessly speeding them.
And I, o my heart, where I stand
Sundered, detached, in measureless realms of night,
Stumbling, seeking, finding, breaking all spells that bind me
Till the bridge I will need to be formed, till the slender anchor hold,
Till I catch the filament of light you fling, o my heart.'

As Snape ended his invocation he extended his hand palm up, fingers cupped in the ancient sign of openness. What happened next made Hermione draw an astonished breath. His hand began to glow, and the glow gathered substance, spilling goldenly over his fingers. Snape did not move, and Hermione forgot to breathe, as the light lengthened, extended, and sent itself forth. As the glowing filament reached her, she held out both hands and watched awestruck as the weightless warmth coalesced within her open palms.

In that moment she held wonder. Nothing existed in the world but joy.

The golden light in her hands began to fade. 'Lumos,' Hermione whispered without thinking, and the glow brightened slightly.

Snape had moved close enough to touch her. Now he cupped his hands around hers, protecting the light.

'Lumos Ardesco.' His dark, silky voice was charged with power.

The light strengthened, pulsated, and spilled out of Hermione's palms. It moved up their arms, outlining their bodies in gold.

Hermione looked at Severus. Transfigured by the magic he had created and she had nurtured, his face glowed with a transcendent joy that must have mirrored her own expression. But he wasn't looking at the light. He was looking at her. Hermione smiled, letting him see into her heart.

'Lumos Ardoris,' she said in a clear, confident voice. The light expanded and rose above their heads--a cloud of swirling gold, filling the room with beauty.

'Lumos.' Harry had his wand out. Its tip glowed like the heart of a silver sun.

'Lumos.' Dumbledore invoked blue fire.

'Lumos.' Lupin traced fiery crimson shapes in the air, laughing with joy.

And then . . . 'Lumos.' 'Lumos.' One by one, some eagerly and some timidly, students brought their wands out and called forth magic. The simplest magic: one of the first spells every witchling and wizardling learns, and one of the last they forget before death takes them. But still--magic. Within a minute all wands were glowing with all colours of the spectrum.

Joy spilled out of the DADA classroom and rolled down the shabby halls of Hogwarts.

McCourt and Jones had wisely elected to stay seated and out of the way. McCourt was holding onto the edge of the table with both hands, but his face glowed with wonder. Jones kept shaking her head and smiling.

'Man oh man, I wish I could do that,' she said. 'I'd grab me some serious attention at the New York Slam.'

'Well,' said McCourt, taking a deep breath, 'If they've got their magic back again, God bless Ôem, maybe that means they'll be cooking their own meals now.'

A tabby cat leapt lightly onto the table beside Dumbledore and leaned into his free hand, purring with enormous self-satisfaction.

=============

On Friday, the very last day of summer school for would-be Muggles, the June dawn woke no one at Hogwarts, for the entire population had been up all night, patrolling halls and classrooms with wands aloft, tripping over hysterical house-elves, having impromptu parties at the tops of staircases, and invoking magic everywhere. Hogwarts glowed as students and faculty invoked spells to reverse its deterioration. When sunlight crept through the lead-paned windows, it became apparent that the ancient school was restoring itself more rapidly than anyone had imagined it could after such long, slow damage. Cracks began to heal; cobwebs vanished and silverfish fled. Dozens of long-frozen stairs began to creak into motion, slowly, as if testing stiff limbs. Some of the portraits stirred, their tenants peering out from behind the frames to make sure everything was quite in order before settling down. Nearly Headless Nick and the Bloody Baron became more opaque by the minute, and whilst the Baron had never been much for socialising, Nick called out cheerily to everyone, even people he didn't like very much.

As the morning continued to brighten, Dumbledore and the senior faculty called everyone together in front of the doors leading into the Great Hall.

'I think it's safe for us to re-enter the heart of Hogwarts,' said the Headmaster, and with a flick of his wand, the great doors swung open. Jaws dropped and a great, soft 'Oohhh' arose from the crowd of seventh-years. The Hall was filled with sunlight. The ceiling, so dark and shabby only weeks ago, was summer-brilliant blue. The tables, polished to a shine, groaned with steaming platters, jugs of pumpkin juice, and pots of coffee and tea.

Everyone swirled in, laughing. Jones, McCourt, Beckham, and the other Muggle visitors, who had never seen the Great Hall before in all its glory, couldn't take their eyes off the ceiling, and ended up stumbling into various people and things before McGonagall and Lupin took pity and guided them, smiling, to the head table.

'Brill. Bloody brill,' Ron couldn't stop saying between mouthfuls of sausage and eggs.

Harry just grinned. He hadn't stopped grinning since the moment he had called forth that first silver light from the tip of his wand.

'And the best part is--we don't have to sit with Snape and the Slytherins any more,' Ron added.

'Speaking of Snape,' said Padma, who for all intents and purposes had become an honorary Gryffindor, 'has anyone seen Hermione?'

'Hmm,' said Harry. 'Come to think of it, not since last night.'

'Think she's alright?' said Ron, his brow wrinkling.

'Hey. Suss this out,' said Dean softly, nodding toward the head table where faculty and visitors ate, talked, smiled, and laughed. Dumbledore, in his customary place in the middle with McGonagall beside him, looked as if he had shed years overnight.

'So what?' said Ron.

'Look again, you sad bastard. Who's missing?'

'Bugger,' said Ron in a hushed voice. 'Snape.'

Parvati whooped with laughter. 'Hermione and Snape! I told you!'

Lavender looked as if she'd been handed the keys to Gringott's vaults. 'How much do you want to bet that right now, at this very minute, they're--'

'Oh belt up, Lav!' snapped Ron, leaping to his feet. 'C'mon Harry. Let's go find 'Mione and make sure she's okay.'

'Ron. Ron.' Padma pulled him back down. 'You know what? I think Hermione's okay. Trust me.'

'But--'

'Ron,' said Harry, draping an arm over his friend's shoulders. 'You know what you said a few minutes ago about not having to sit with Snape anymore?'

'Yeah.'

'I have a funny feeling you'll have check with 'Mione about that, mate.'

Author's Notes:

--Hermione's finale, 'O make this dancer dance,' adapts three stanzas from 'Song' by the Australian poet Judith Wright (1915 - 2000).

--Snape's 'A fleet, unwary spider' is a partially re-worded version of 'A Noiseless Patient Spider' by the American poet Walt Whitman (1819-1892).

--'Ardesco' means 'I take fire' (thank you 'gthistle' in LnLS for your translation/correction!) and 'Ardoris' means loved one.

My warmest thanks . . . To Madeleine Jete, Purple Spotted Hedwig, Snape's Secrets, Severusly Smitten, dragongirl, and again, Michaela . . . I'm grateful for your kind and thoughtful comments! To Snape's Secrets--'Sean McCourt' and 'Maxine Jones' are composite characters. One was loosely inspired by Frank McCourt, author of Angela's Ashes (and his brother Malachy is also a writer and actor). There is a real poet named Maxine Tynes as well. To Madeleine--I love medieval ceilings too . . . but clearly Hermione doesn't!

Short EPILOGUE to follow