Chapter 5
Author's Notes: Thanks to duj, Oya, cecelle, Cyranothend, and Masked Phantom. You are about to find out about the statue…
Though classes had been in session for over a fortnight, none of the students or staff were much interested in academics. A feeling of dread hung over the castle like fog. Tensions were rising and it was all the professors could do to stop students from attacking each other in the hallways. Lines of allegiance were being clearly drawn; Dumbledo re's speeches about unity in the face of danger no longer convinced anyone. War loomed imminent.
It was on a long, cold, mid-January evening that the Headmaster assembled some of his loyal professors in his circular office. It was a sign of the time s that the portraits were politely asked to leave. Arthur Weasley's head bobbed among the green flames in the fireplace.
"I'm sorry Albus, but everyone here at the Ministry in preparing for a final battle. The chances of reinforcements being sent to Hogwarts are, quite frankly, nil."
"But the children!" exclaimed Minerva McGonagall.
"I'm afraid that my ongoing struggles with the ministry has rather alienated Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The castle shall have to live up to its designation and withstand a siege once more." Dumbledore sighed, and moved to his Pensieve. Using his wand, he began to extract silvery threads of memory from his temple and transferring them into the stone bowl.
"The castle's defenses must be i mproved," said Snape, who had hitherto remained silent.
"The only man who knows the castle well enough is Argus Filch," McGonagall exclaimed.
"He's a Squib," answered Snape with derision in his voice.
"None of the Order members are avail able to supervise such a job," Arthur's head said. "Molly and I are busy with other assignments."
"No Arthur, your help will not be necessary," said Dumbledore, whose gaze was concentrated on a swirling cloud of images in his Pensieve. "I have another solution, though it may take some doing. Minerva, if you could fetch Hagrid for me, I would be grateful."
The stern Scottish woman swept out of the office immediately.
"Good night Arthur. Rest assured, we will defend ourselves." Dumbledore waved a single hand as Arthur's apparition disappeared and the green flames turned their usual colour. The Headmaster turned to Snape. "It seems that our time at Duslain this Christmas was not wasted as you had feared, Severus. Your grandmother's collecti on will prove useful after all, and not just in occupying Mundungus Fletcher in illegal activities."
Snape winced at this pronouncement. After the departure of the Order members he had ordered Jeeves to lock up the house and to forbid anyone from en tering. Snape had himself cast several powerful wards around the property that would cause some particularly nasty wounds to any intruder. He had hoped that Dung's final, smirking, departure with an armload of stone gargoyles would be the last he would have to hear about Agrippina Snape's artifacts. He was, as it seemed, wrong.
"I wonder if you could arrange to bring some artifacts from your grandmother's house here," Dumbledore continued, and sat at his desk, dipping a quill into some ink. "I will give you a list of the objects I had in mind. You may take one of the thestral carriages and transport them that way. It will not take you longer than a few hours," he finished.
Snape let out a weak protest. "Someone will have to patrol the hallways!" he objected.
Dumbledore smiled slightly. "I do not expect Voldemort's attack tonight Severus, and I assure you that there are other staff members who are more than capable of dealing with a few truant students." He handed Snape a roll of parchment and waved him toward the door. Snape reached for the handle, but the door swung open before him to reveal the gargantuan form of Rubeus Hagrid.
"You wanted to see me, Headmaster?" the groundskeeper asked, somewhere between nervousness and pride.
"Yes, Hagrid. Please sit down," Dumbledore invited, and concluded with a curt nod to Snape. "Severus, I will expect you back by midnight." The Potions cast a final malicious glance at the oblivious Care of Magical Creatures teacher, and took his cue to leave.
Thestrals always unnerved Snape, reminiscent as they were of his activities as a Death Eater, but the trip to Duslain was nothing in comparison to the trip back to Hogwarts. Having rid himself of the obsequious house elf Jeeves, Snape was crammed into the back of the carriage with the supine marble sculpture that had so enthralled Nymphadora Tonks some weeks prior. The standing form could only fit diagonally, and Snape had to arrange his limbs around her immobile form. As the carriage turn ed abruptly, Snape grabbed one of her outstretched arms for support, but withdrew it suddenly; just as Dumbledore had testified, the white stone was warm.
The spectral carriage came to a halt outside the front doors of the castle. Waiting on the ste ps, his beard blown about slightly by the night breeze, was Albus Dumbledore. Beside him was the towering bulk of Hagrid, which dwarfed the tartan-clad Minerva McGonagall.
After Severus extracted himself from the carriage, he turned to attempt a sim ilar extraction of the marble figure. Dumbledore, however, came to stop him. Waving his hand, he guided the ghostly horses to move along. They walked, a strange procession, in total silence for some minutes in the moonlight. The thestrals walked until the y had reached an ancient crossroads, now little more than intersecting footpaths. Albus raised his hand to pause them, and gestured for Hagrid to extricate the marble figure.
With exceptional tenderness for a man of his size, Hagrid set the statue i n the centre of the crossroads. As Dumbledore had emptied the carriage of the other small items that he had requested, the thestrals were dismissed. Their dark forms echoed the black shadows cast by the trees on the snowy ground.
"I can't see what u se this is, Albus," Snape felt compelled to protest. "All my grandmother ever did with this statue was to leave it offerings!"
Dumbledore looked up from the book he held in his hands and fixed Snape with an uncanny stare. "And were they accepted?" h e asked quietly.
Surprised, Snape staggered. "Yes," he admitted.
Hagrid, evidently following instructions given to him earlier, was circling the statue with a large bag. From within it, he produced the most extraordinary garlands of flowers, w hich he gingerly draped over the marble. Reaching deep into the bottom of the sack, he took out handfuls of grain and breadcrumbs, which he sprinkled at its base. From the pockets of his moleskin coat, he drew tiny balls of yarn, and small cakes, all of which were placed gingerly at the feet of the figure.
Minerva McGonagall, for her part, had started a small fire at the base of the statue. Using a bronze ewer also brought from Duslain, she poured oil and wine on the flames, causing them to sputter, hiss, and rise ever higher. Solemnly, Hagrid stood at her side and sprinkled what looked like salt into the flames, which turned a rich orange colour. This having been done, they stood aside and looked expectantly at Dumbledore. The Headmaster consulted his book again, and extended it to Snape, saying,
"As she is an artifact of your family, you must recite the invocation."
Covering his head with a scarf in reverence for the act about to be performed, Snape watched as his colleagues took their places at the other three arms of the crossroads. Extending his wand over the ancient pages of the grimoire to provide illumination, Snape began to read. The spell was in Latin, a language Snape had never managed to fully master. As the unfamiliar sounds rolled off his tongue, he registered some of the meanings. The incantation called for protection and benediction from a domestic goddess. Just when the flames consumed the magical creatures, the flow of words came to an end. The four figures stood at the crossroads, their fire-lit shadows flickering on the snow. They waited for something to happen. Then, as a ray of moonlight pierced the smoke rising from the flames, the marble statue began to glow with a golden light. The light flared for a moment, and as their eyes adjusted to the change, the waiting wizards perceived movement.
Out from behind the marble, stepped a woman. She was clothed in a woolen cloak, and glowed golden. The woman brought her palms together in a gesture of blessing and nodded toward her audience.
"Greetings, friends," she said, though her voice was laced with a heavy accent. "What help do you require?"
It was all Snape could do to keep from screaming.
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