Chapter 6

Author's Notes: Sorry for the long delay. I have been busy and unmotivated. No excuse, really. Thanks to Oya, cecelle, silverthreads, emma, duj, lillinfields, and bibliophile.

Snape could not take his eyes away from the spectre's face. That face – pale, with deeply-set eyes and a hooked nose to rival his own – held no resemblance to its marble counterpart. Yet he was very familiar with it. He had seen it in his dreams and nightmares for years. Sometimes, he fancied that he had seen a glimpse of it in a crowd, but it would al ways disappear before he could be certain. That face had made his nights unbearable, even as his days at Hogwarts were. Its appearances had intensified when he had decided to join Voldemort. After every revel, initiation, and gathering, the visions of death, blood, and fear mingled with her visage. Always disapproving, it would hang in the air, burned into his retina, etched into his mind. He had not seen her in his sleep for nearly two decades, but the memories remained; and now he knew, as certainly as he had known anything – she was a scourge sent to persecute him even into his grave. Snape looked at the woman and barely resisted the urge to scream as she came closer.

She reached out her hand and stroked the air inches from his face, tracing the outline of his jaw. She cocked her head and smiled; the child inside Snape trembled.

"Severus," she purred. "I am so glad you have survived. Your grandmother would not have forgiven me had I failed to keep you alive."

Agrippina. This was all h er doing. She had sent this demon, this harpy from hell to haunt him.

"Madam," Dumbledore interrupted softly. The woman dropped her arm and turned to face the headmaster, who bowed low to her. "My name is Albus Dumbledore. We are again facing a stru ggle for survival."

"That is why you have summoned me?" she asked kindly, her tongue tripping slightly over the consonants.

"Yes," Albus bowed again.

"Albus…" she intoned, rolling the name around her mouth. "It is a Latin name," she conc luded, extending her hand toward the Headmaster. "And are you indeed a white wizard, Mr Dumbledore?"

"Step away from him," Snape hissed, his wrath getting the better of him.

Dumbledore raised a hand to silence the Potion's master's rage and an swered the spectre simply. "We are fighting a dark enemy and we need all the allies we can get. I run a school for magical children, and I fear that they will be victims of a coming violence. The staff will do their best to protect them, of course, but we need more resources."

"And that is why you have summoned me," she repeated, her mouth spreading into a slow grin. Suddenly, her smile fell. "This is not the same enemy as the last time? It is not Voldemort?"

Minerva McGonagoll, who had stood silent in the shadow of the marble statue, stepped forward to plead with Dumbledore. "Albus, what is the meaning of this? Who – or what – is this?"

The spectre turned around, fixing Minerva with her dark eyes. Almost automatically, she recited, "I a m the domestic spirit of the House of Snape. It is my duty to protect its children and hearth from harm. I was last invoked by Agrippina Snape to watch over her grandson Severus. He is the last of his line. After him, no one else may propitiate me."

"She is the last of the lares in Britain," added Dumbledore. "The Romans, from whom Severus is descended, had household gods, many of whom were ancestors."

The woman nodded vigorously. "I was one of the family," she said. "I do not remember my name. But they loved me and worshipped me, and I was happy to help them."

Hagrid rubbed his eyes in disbelief. "You're a Roman?" he said in awe.

"I am a Snape," the woman replied indignantly, the golden glow around her flaring a little.

"You are not a Snape," Severus said disdainfully, his lip curling. "You would do well to return to your statue. At least there, you would look pretty," he spat.

"Severus!" Dumbledore rebuked. "We need her help. I recognized what she was at once when I saw her at Duslain. She has powers that will help us to protect Hogwarts if Voldemort attacks."

"So it is Voldemort whom you resist!" the woman exclaimed. "I will help. I have seen him in the memories of Severus. He is a terrible villain," she cried.

"It will take more than a marble figurine fed by grain and bread crumbs to defeat Lord Voldemort," Snape snarled.

"You are quite correct, Severus. It will take the work of many to defeat the Dark Lord," said Dumbledore. "Our primary conc ern for now, however, is to secure our defenses and to prevent innocent deaths." He looked back at the apparition and fixed her with an inquiring look. "What can you do to help us secure the castle?"

Looking around, the spirit's glanc e was caught by a mound of rubble. Walking, or rather, gliding, over to it, she placed her hand on one of the stones and quickly withdrew it. "There is ancient magic here," she whispered in awe. Furrowing her brow slightly, she stared at the sto nes. Silence hung over the group, and when nothing appeared to be happening, Snape made to move. His motion was arrested by Dumbledore, who put a warning arm across his path. In that moment, the hairs on Snape's neck rose, and before his eyes, the pile of rocks, overgrown with lichen and moss, began to move. With slow, scraping sounds, the rubble rearranged itself, and slowly, a low retaining wall emerged. When the motion had stopped, the apparition folded her hands across her chest and looked back at the Hogwarts professors triumphantly. Her golden aura had faded to a barely perceptible glow.

Dumbledore shook his head, impressed. "I remember this feature from when I was a student. Such talents will be very useful in strengthening the magic of the castle."

"How many garden features do we need replaced?" sneered Snape, who refused to be impressed by the feat of wandless magic he had just witnessed.

Dumbldore nodded thoughtfully. "Of course, she will not be able to carry on indefinitely," he said quietly. "However, the Snape grimoire does not include a spell or potion that would enable such a prolonged period of activity. Perhaps you have some suggestions?" he inclined his head towards the goddess.

"I do not," she shook her head. "I do not know how to appear, just when to appear."

"Do you at least know what we should call you?" Snape growled.

She shrugged her shoulders. "I do not remember my name in life."

"Perhaps we should call you La ra," Dumbledore suggested, "after the domestic gods."

"Lara is a beautiful name," Minerva agreed.

"Beautiful," breathed Hagrid, who appeared to be referring more to the deity herself than to her new name.

"Let us go back to Hogwarts," proclaimed Dumbledore, "for there I think we may find another who might aid us in this question, and Miss Lara can assess the situation for herself." His tone did not brook argument, and the group gathered to go. They had been talking for so long, that the sacrificial fire had burned low, and sputtered finally with another splash from the bronze ewer. In the cool light of the January moon, Hagrid tucked the marble statue under his arm, and was about to start back to the castle, when Minerva raised an objection.

"Won't the students and staff find Miss Lara's appearance questionable?" she asked, running a critical eye over the younger woman. "We may be able to explain her sudden arrival somehow, but we must find her more suitable garb."

Surprised, Lara raised her hand and laid it on Minerva's shoulder. In a moment, she wore tartan robes and a pointed hat with a plaid ribbon round the crown. Hagrid snickered, and even Dumbledore coughed back a laugh. "This will not do?" she asked, and extended a hand to Snape, who instinctively stepped away from her before she could touch him.

"The spirit of the thing is correct," Albus began. "Perhaps if you chose different colours?" he suggested.

Lara thought a moment, and her garments shimmered into a charcoal grey. It was not as somber as Snape's black robes, but subdued enough to be presentable. Her golden glow had now dissipated entirely from around her person and settled into a flush of colour in her cheeks. Her audience thus satisfied, she took Dumbledore's arm and they began to walk the path back to the castle. The Headmaster extended his wand, illuminating the ground ahead. A stern Minerva followed, carrying the empty sack, and the few bronze implements, and Hagrid, laden with his marble burde n. Snape stalked after them with the grimoire, wrapping his cloak tighter around him in the winter night. He had lost the battle for the sake of the war.

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