Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any member of the Harry Potter universe. They belong to the estimable JK Rowling and I am infinitely grateful for her letting us borrow them to play with a bit.
Chapter Seven: Visions of Yesteryear
The sky had dawned grey and dark, suitable for the coming occasion. It was customary to alter the weather to accommodate the funeral of a wizard, but not to have to do so seemed somehow appropriate. To the mourners waiting patiently for the body to be brought up from the grotto it had rested in these last four and forty days- it seemed the world mourned with them.
As per wizarding regulation, a member of the government from the country in which he had died was present; in this case the Ugandan Minister of Magic himself attended. The death of so prominent a man required such a gesture on the behalf of any government. In fact, there were twelve other Ministers of Magic- or the equivalent- present. Not a one thought to shield themselves from the water that began to fall from the open sky. To do so would be an ultimate form of disrespect for the man to be buried. In such circumstances, even men of note swallowed their pride.
The body of the man was to be cremated in his native Wales, amongst the stone circles ancient wizards had built as a conduit for their powers in the times long before the first wands were invented to take that place. Along the cliff's edge, hundreds of wizards and witches wore the white cassock to show themselves in mourning. Below and on surrounding hills, over a thousand more waited to pay their respects.
As one, the mass of people dropped to their knees in a gesture of respect to the man who had touched so many lives. Traditionally, the family of the deceased followed the body towards the pyre. His only surviving blood relative had created quite a ruckus amongst the wizarding world when she had insisted on walking alone, without even her husband for company. A line as old as theirs would have had hundreds of people claiming a relation, all wanting the prestige of being seen as a relation to the body they were about to commit to the four winds.
At a prearranged signal, the thirteen Ministers of Magic from around the globe stepped forward to take up the charm that would allow the body to burn despite the torrential downpour. They would stand there until not an ash remained.
An aged man in a flowing white beard began the ceremony, which was as always brief. Finished, he stepped back to whisper something in the young woman's ear that caused her to lift her chin even higher as she set fire to the body of her father.
As one, the throng gathered to mourn began to chant their final parting words towards the deceased.
"Adfletum vestrum mors mortis…"
Amongst these thousands of mourners was Severus Snape.
Had someone thought to, it might have been remarked that it was odd that a man who had not attended the mourning of his own father would wait for hours to pay momentary respect to a wizard he had never met. Odder indeed, that a corpse could inspire such a gesture from the man who had murdered him. But then again, Severus Snape was nothing if not odd…
Snape shook himself out of his thoughts. What was in the past was destined to stay there, and there wasn't a damn thing to be done about it. It was not often that he lost himself amongst his memories, but it was never a pleasant occurrence when it happened. The life of a Death Eater implicated too much bloodshed and too much death. He often wondered how some of his associates slept at night.
It didn't matter, that was a part of his life that ruled him no longer.
He rifled through the notes the new History of Magic teacher had given him. He hadn't seen her since that day, nearly a month ago. Idly, he wondered what other treasures she had laying about, to foolish to realise their importance. These notes hinted at things he hadn't even begun to dream of doing.
"..Although strictly venomous in its living form, Moonwort steeped in the abovementioned serum carries with it the property of selectivity, allowing infected sections of the body to exist separate from the remainder…"
That was how Alchemedes had done it. Rather than curing the venom of the runespoor- a feat Snape was still of the opinion was impossible- it had sectioned the part of the body bitten away from the rest. But even the strongest barrier must erode with time. His task was to erect another. Not impossible, but he did need to know how much time he had.
He turned towards the clock on his wall, "Professor Callistas," he told it.
Zivra was making a valiant attempt to clean her quarters. The addition of three more bookcases along her walls had helped, but not significantly. Huh, I've been looking for this, she thought idly.
The clock on her wall chimed once. She looked up, "What is it?"
The voice of the Potions Professor filled her room, "Would you be so kind as to come down to the laboratory, I have some questions for you."
Zivra raised one eyebrow, "I will be there shortly." The clock made a dinging sound, showing he had cut it off from his end.
She dusted her hands against the trousers she was wearing. It occurred to her to change into something a little less drab, but she dismissed it. The chances of Severus Snape noticing what she was wearing were slim to none, and there was no other reason to do so.
She was brought up short at the portrait of Ulric the Smelly. "Eghlihk vagh braughnena, Uklrack." she said once more. Ulric grinned at her, it was quite frightening actually.
"Eighu branhk varnish plemerqader."
"What do you mean not this time?" Zivra asked incredulously.
Ulric grinned some more.
She began to pace. What had Professor Snape said last time? Something about changing his password for her? But to what? Obviously he expected her to just know it.
"Alchemedes?" she ventured.
"Berghk flangh."
Zivra raised an eyebrow, "That was uncalled for." She settled a shoulder against the wall next to her.
"Runespoor?"
"Antidote?"
"Wyvernbird?"
"Poison"
"Venom?"
"Stupid git!" she finally snapped, losing her temper. How on earth did he expect her to simply read his bloody mind? She wasn't a bloody seer-
Seer? Snape had been there when she chose her own password. He wouldn't be so absurd as to use the same one, but perhaps…
"Cassandra?"
This time, Ulric said something that caused her to make profuse insults against his parentage and his possible biblical relations with livestock. Once done, she settled down to think the problem through. She had a gut feeling she was on the right track, but what else… then she had it.
"Glumbumble?" Ulric slid aside for her. "Blasted man," she murmured under her breath as she stepped through.
"What took you so long?" Snape raised a supercilious eyebrow at her once she entered.
With infinite restraint, Zivra refrained from leaping across the workbench to strangle him. That would be something any barbarian would do. Not she, daughter of a bloodline older than dirt. Oh no, not she.
"I was chatting with your portrait, I hope you don't mind," she replied offhandedly instead.
Severus nearly smiled. Her careless manner didn't fool him; especially since he had heard her out in the hallway 'chatting' with his portrait as she had put it. The angry glint in her eye told all kinds of tales.
"Are you feeling dizzy, faint, or overheated?"
"Why Professor Snape, what a thing to suggest," Zivra replied, sitting on a stool across from him.
Snape rolled his eyes, this was colleague of his so he was required to be a bit more polite than he normally might be. "This is not a joking matter Professor Callistas, and I am not required to save your life." Alright, perhaps polite wasn't the right word.
"Yes."
Snape blinked, "Yes what?"
"Yes, I'm starting to feel the effects of the venom including dizziness, faintness and a sensation of heat. I'm also beginning to feel more lethargic. That one's new by the way."
Snape made a few notes, "And your supply of antidote, how often do you take it?"
"Bi-weekly."
Snape stopped writing. He referred to his notes. "These say you should only need the antidote monthly."
Zivra sighed, "When I began, I was only taking it only a monthly basis; recently I've had to begin taking it more regularly simply to stay on my feet."
"Resistance," Snape murmured, scribbling furiously. "When did you switch from monthly to weekly?"
"Over the course of about two months. Six weeks later I was taking it weekly, and a fortnight ago I began taking it twice a week."
"Decreasing at an accelerating rate," Snape murmured, still taking notes. Without warning he stood and crossed the space to stand next to her. "I'm going to perform a medicus charm, where were you bitten?"
Zivra held a hand up between her breasts, over her heart.
Snape was faced with the unpleasant sensation of feeling a blush stealing up his features. He suppressed it, "I need to see the area."
Zivra shrugged, raising her hands to the buttons on her shirt.
"Does it always look like that?"
Zivra snorted and looked down, "No, that's a relatively recent development." The area above her breasts was a mass of black and orange swirls, grisly in nature. They seemed even to pulse with a life of their own.
"Medicus in fortrum." Snape said with a swish and a flick. The colours cleared and Snape could see the poison, as well as the barrier Alchemdes had erected around it. What once had been a wall as solid as stone was crumbling. He didn't have a whole lot of time, maybe a month before the antidote quit working; after that, Professor Callistas might have the sum total of twenty-four hours yet to live.
"Well?" she asked him.
"Finite Incantatum," Snape said instead. He sat again at his work table. "I'm going to need blood and tissue samples from you every day from the infected area. Simply leave them in here. I will contact you when I have made an advance."
Zivra buttoned her shirt back up and stood to leave. She paused, "Professor Snape, can you do this?"
She never received an answer.
A/N: "Adfletum vestrum mors mortis… (Latin)" Loosely translated (seeing as I don't speak Latin) it means "We weep for your corpse…". "Medicus in fortrum" is a spell of my own devising, and moonwort is a figment of my own imagination