Disclaimer: The same as the previous chapters.
Chapter 69
Severus Snape, Harry Potter, and Draco Malfoy have their wands tucked in their palms expecting something to spring out of the room. But apart from a cold breeze and an eerie quietness, nothing else greeted them. There was no Boggart, neither was there any tarantula creeping out. But all three of them tasted it. Salt of the sea at the tip of their tongue. Harry had immediately buried his nose in his arm sleeves, and Draco and Snape followed suit. The comprehensive Auror training made him act in certain ways which he knew saved his lives in those drapery situations.
At the count of three, Draco kicked the door open and wands raised they barged in. Snape was expecting something. Well anything, because till now every corner of this house had some profound revelation tugged behind its walls and closed door. But his eyes met with nothing. The whole room was stark empty. Its walls were whitewashed. Its floorboards sparkling clean. And oddly only the huge bay window which occupied the opposite wall as left open.
Remembering Freya cryptic words, Severus crept closer to the window, minding his steps. After all, which was a young witch's personal room. And Hermione had so far proved herself to be too good at wielding magic. He had nearly crossed halfway through the room when he heard it. The distant sound of crashing sea waves. A shadow started forming close to the window. It was of an old woman. But she stood upright, her hair was white and she wore a dress which bunched up around her waist, held in place by a rather elegant looking belt. Severus could make out the embossed buckle, it had a distinctive Celtic knot drawn over the sail of a regal sea.
He felt a chilling finger brush against his mental shield, which forced him to look up. He was not sure whether he had ever come across such a ghost in his life. This was nothing like the Knight of the Undead, but rather far more fearful. Her eyes and high cheekbones were markers of royal borns. If he wasn't wrong, they were standing in front of a long-dead witch queen. He couldn't keep on looking at her, so he did what he thought could help all them. He knelt in front of her, whispering to the dunderheads behind him harshly," kneel down with me, now."
Then again, someone brushed a finger this time making him lookup. The ghost was hovering right in front of him. She was studying them minutely. Her eyes hovered over each of them running from the top of their head down to their dusty dragonhide boots. When finally she looked at their faces, her voice echoed through the empty room," A mother always loves unconditionally." waving her hands to indicate the room, in general, she spoke a little louder," Welcome to the Witch's Lair. It is in my honor, I welcome The Spy, The Conquerer of Death and Evil of this time, and The Redeemed." With that, she bowed her head a little and turned back.
As she made her way back to stand close to the window, Severus heard her voice in his head," Freya speaks the truth, the view from the window is serene and calming for a battered soul. But you are aware of the mirror of Erised, aren't you Headmaster? Illusions do have some truth in them, but they can lead you wayward. Look out at your own risk. But below seek out, whatever brings the three of you here. A mother always loves unconditionally."
A door appeared on the left and the opposite wall started vibrating on its own. While Draco pointed out," it's, of course, a door but where on earth is the knob or the handle?" Snape had dragged him by his sleeves near the opposite wall. Though he warned him," keep an eye on the door, could be some trigger, you never know." Potter had already crossed the room and had stationed himself before it. The solid wall glimmered. And A portrait slowly appeared out of nowhere.
Severus Snape recognized it immediately. He whispered, "Headmaster Phineas Nigellus Black." The Draco gawked as he peered at it," He played Quidditch, who knew, never did I hear of it!" But the man in the portrait only stood a bit taller. Harry noticed he looked young and was wearing quidditch gears. Young Black was studying his broom, standing near the Slytherin stands. He greeted the Slytherins and simply nodded at him. Finally satisfying by the inspection of his otherwise perfectly look broom the man drawled much like Snape. "She watched you for all these years."
Snape choked and uttered," How can…?"
"Well, there is a way to sneak into your older portraits. After all, it belongs to you and is made from your own magical residues. Granger found me in the attic of Grimmauld Place." Clearing his throat, he informed," Well, I am thankful for it. She actually rescued me from that Buckbeak, and got me here."
Harry gasped," Forgive me, Sir, but that's way back…"
The portrait huffed in irritation and replied tersely," the when is no longer important. At least, I am whole enough to give you the required clues, by thankful for that, boy. And yes, I agreed to live inside that horribly extending beads bag because, I knew her could never mean any harm to me." giving potter a scathed look, he turned to Snape and carried on," Miss Granger thought she could hide whatever it was so important to hide in me. But then, she thought a little hard despite her failing mind and pleaded me to give her another option. I agreed to help her. My 'other portrait' holds the other 'key' to your unique problem. Go and save that smart witch."
He next called up Draco and nearly ordered him," Now, remember, you don't have a lot of time. I regret the doings of several of my descents but Mr. Malfoy, the fate of our dead house now rests on your able shoulders. Now, walk back to that door and feel its edges, you will find what you are looking for." Before they could ask anything else, young Black had left the frame.
Nodding to each other aware of the ghost still standing near the window with her back turned towards them, Snape urged both Draco and Harry to go ahead. When they were no longer looking back at him, he secretly looked out of the open window and sucked in his breath. His heart was pumping hard against his ribcage and his eyes pricked. There, right below the window, surrounded with rows and rows of blossomed baby's breath, stood the spirit of Lily, her long red hair flowing freely around her face. She looked young and jubilant. He felt that tell-tale caress of the ghost standing before him and heard her sad whisper," A mother always loves unconditionally."