As ever, standard disclaimers apply.
"So, how much energy enhancing potion did you bring?" Shacklebolt asked with a carefully measured injection of insouciance. He was seated beside the Potions Master on a pitted marble floor that had long since lost its smooth polish to the ravages of long term neglect. The wall against which both men leaned their backs was even more damaged as it had been wood paneled and wood was far less forgiving to time's incursions than stone. Pale daylight filtered in through high, arched openings that might have held window glass at one time. The jungle had yet to completely reclaim this enclave of architecture, but it was their wands which illuminated the interior with wizard light.
"Not nearly enough, I'm sure," Snape grumbled weakly back though he actually meant to snarl.
"Hm. Well, I need you to stay alert while I recce the place. D'you feel any more of that old magic, by the way?"
Snape frowned. He hadn't thought about it until the older wizard asked. But... Yes. It was there. "Yes. Yes, all about us." His frown deepened. "It's different. Some sort of... I don't know, vibrations."
The Auror's right eyebrow quirked. "Vibrations... I see."
"What?"
Shacklebolt grinned suddenly. "That isn't magic Snape, that's technology."
"I do not understand."
"No, isolated pureblood that you are, you wouldn't. But I feel it too, now. And I must say it is quite a surprise. This place is clearly abandoned yet there is power still being generated."
"Where?"
"Hence the recce."
"Ah."
"So you will stay awake and alert."
"Of course."
"Hm."
Shacklebolt left then, after making certain the other wizard was in shadows but still had a good view of the entrance, his expression full of doubt. It wasn't as if there was much choice about this. He couldn't simply drag the Potions Master along with him. It was too draining and he just might need to use his wand for other things. And anyway, the entrance needed watching.
Snape did not bother to follow his companion's exit, rather trained his gaze on the gaping hole in the wall through which they had entered. Where, exactly, the doorway resided could not even be conjectured. Perhaps it was something only visible with 'technology.' Whatever that was. He doused the light at the tip of his wand with a softly muttered, "Nox."
Shacklebolt eased himself down the hallway, mindful that any shadow could hide an attacker. Considering the dismal conditions, however, he was as certain as a trained paranoid could be that there was no danger of any assault. Unless the building itself decided to collapse. So far he'd found nothing but a few large empty rooms with nothing to hint at what they'd housed or been used for. There was no furniture, no accessories, no barrels or trunks. There weren't even discarded artifacts of Muggle technology despite the constant thrum that tickled his senses. Nothing but dirt and dust and leftovers of some other creatures' meals. And a pervasive stench that was sharp almost to the point of it being painful to inhale; so much so that the cloying sweetness of the jungle was a fine perfume in comparison. Someone with a weaker stomach would have retched many times over by now.
He entered and retreated from yet another mystifyingly empty suite. And somewhat bored with the lack of discovery, pondered Snape's naming the sensations he'd felt as 'Old Magic.' Had he dismissed the Pureblood's natural conclusion erroneously? He knew of no technology that transported anyone from one planet to another and he did keep up on such things as much as he could. Even more, he was sure there weren't any planets other than Earth that were so earthlike. Technology? Magic? The thrum was steady. It was not exactly mechanical but neither was it anything natural and magic was nothing if not natural.
Nothing but more questions replied to his questions.
He came to the end of the hallway and a set of stairs spiraling downward. The vibrations were measurably stronger. He cast a charm that would keep the stairs from collapsing just in case they were not so well settled as the rest of the place had thus far seemed to be and then he began an agonizingly care filled descent.
The stairs ended somewhere above where they were supposed to and he increased the radiance of his wandlight in order to see how far a drop it was. He was surprised but relieved when a shimmering floor was revealed only about three feet below the last step. Lady Fortune was smiling upon him at last!
He let himself down stealthily, his boots making not even the tiniest sound when his feet hit the floor. Holding his wand up to cast more illumination outward, he determined that he was at the end of a broad hallway constructed of a smooth metallic material.
'Well, back up or forward?' He pondered his choices. Without needing to answer he started forward. About three yards into his careful hike he saw that the smooth wall to his right was broken by a narrow but even slit of darkness. He reached his wand out til it nearly touched the wall and thus discovered that the thin dark line was an incompletely closed ... door wasn't quite right. Or was it? Just because humans on Earth didn't have doors that were otherwise completely seamless with the wall even when partly open didn't mean whoever had built (and abandoned) this place couldn't have them. "Alohomora," he whispered, then, "Removeo."
He was only partly surprised when the thin shadow began to silently broaden. Instinctively, he immediately pressed himself against the wall to one side of the widening portal. No sense making himself an easy target. The broadening darkness herded him backwards several small steps before it suddenly ceased growing.
He counted to ten slowly.
Nothing happened.
He exhaled slowly.
Still nothing. And he was beginning to feel a bit silly but quickly reminded himself how common it was for things to not be anything like they seemed. Especially in the wizard world.
At last he leaned his head just past the opening and chanced a look into a darkness that was now invaded by a few of the photons from his still glowing wand tip.
Said few photons were not nearly enough to reveal the interior and the Auror made himself step through. He was quite surprised to find the air while not fresh, at least devoid of the stench that otherwise permeated the ruin. And seemingly in response to his entrance soft pink lighting surged slowly, welcomingly. His eyes effortlessly accustomed themselves to the peculiar lighting.
"Oh Merlin," he gasped in awe at the stunningly pristine configuration of consoles. Three of them separately stationed but all facing a giant black wall. He moved from one to another, touching nothing. As odd as Muggle technology was, at least it was human. This... was not. He stared at the wall. It was black not because of some coloring, but, like the pupil of an eye, it reflected nothing.
And then another realization struck him. There was no dust in here. No dust and no remains. Until his coming nothing had breached the slit of darkness that had indicated a room even existed. And this was just the first one!
"Get yourself together, mate," Kingsley admonished himself. "Let's see what else is down here." He gave the alien wall one last awe filled stare and promised himself he'd come back to study it.
He found several more rooms including two that were filled with what might have been trunks or crates or simply an alien's idea of boxes, another room that was all rows of what seemed to be cabinets, a room that seemed built around a massive wood desk with large padded chairs (this gave him hope that the aliens weren't too awfully different from humans) and the room that made him cease his searching investigation. This last room reminded him of nothing so much as a Muggle hospital. It had a half dozen or so padded tables arranged so that there was plenty of room to move around. There were cabinets and cables and ... restraints. He frowned. Infirmary or laboratory?
Yet with the original occupants gone missing, should he bother to care? The tables were padded and above the floor. That at least gave them some advantage over bringing Snape anywhere else. Fine. They'd camp out in here and maybe he'd find something to help him fix up Snape's ankle.
--
Severus Snape blinked furiously as his eyes stung him with demands to shut down. He couldn't give in, wouldn't give in. He remembered the energizing potion but feared it might be more needed at some later time. Stay awake! He ordered silently. Then he cursed himself as his eyes disobeyed and a thick blanket of exhaustion tried to suffocate him.
If only he could stand. He didn't even consider it. Instead he wondered why it had ceased to hurt. He'd not taken anything to numb the pain. Had he? No. No, he hadn't.
Where is that Auror?
What was that?
Shadows. Oh. My cloak. Yes.
He stopped thinking and concentrated on staying conscious.
He heard himself hiss as some adventurous bug made a successful attack on his hand. Bloody insects. He swatted the determined creature.
He was so tired.
So very...
"Snape?"
"Yes!" He felt himself jerk in response to the voice in his ear. "Ye-"
"Easy there, Snape. You were beginning to fade out."
"What?"
Shacklebolt suppressed a grin. He knew the younger wizard would be more than slightly miffed if he realized he'd been on the verge of losing consciousness. "You're all done in, man. You need to rest. I need to rest. But I've found the lower floor to be both more interesting and probably safer than here." He paused to let that information sink in. When Snape nodded, he continued, "I'm going to move you downstairs. Don't fight it or I'll petrify you."
"Yes, fine. As you will." Snape didn't have it in him to sneer much less argue. He was barely sensate when Shacklebolt spoke the incantation which lifted him from the ground. He didn't even note the passage to the lower level until the disorienting slide from being nearly vertical to nearly horizontal brought a groan from his throat.
"You're fine, mate." Shacklebolt's voice washed over him.
"No, no. I've lost my leg."
"Eh? Oh. No, you haven't. It's still attached. Get some--" But the Potions Master was already asleep then. The Auror sighed unhappily and gingerly checked Snape's ankle and leg. It was still shattered (no surprise there) and the tourniquet spell had slowed the bleeding. But this same spell could end up causing Snape to lose half his leg. He found what seemed to him to be nothing more than thick foam squares which he used to elevate the injured appendage. Then, almost shaking with exhaustion himself, he hopped up onto another of the tables and lay down, wondering if he could fall asleep.
Apparently the answer was 'yes,' as the next thing he was aware of was the presence of a small coterie of beings leaning over him.