A/N: I've been ill this week, but I'm finally getting better, so here's a new update. I'll hopefully have another chapter done next week too. It seems my muse is happy with me for the moment. I just hope it stays so. :D Thanks to those who left a note or two - I always enjoy hearing from you even if I may not have the time to respond back.
Chapter Eighteen: Darkness
The students were observing the sorting, but many a glance was focused on the brightest spot at the teachers' table. The mysterious witch sitting at the Death Eater Headmaster was an enigma to most of the students save few whose parents had informed them what to expect. But even they were stunned by the sight of the regal witch and the way her face appeared to be carved out of marble. It did not take them long, however, for spreading the information until it reached every table. By the end of the subdued feast the last student knew she was a priestess.
The Gryffindors soon came to the conclusion she belonged to the black priestesses the legends told of (seeing as she was married to Snape), but in truth there had been no dark priestess for over a thousand of years. Unfortunately, that did not stop them from spreading the information further and the younger children readily accepted it as the truth. Nobody would listen to Ravenclaws pointing out the error - a rumour from the Gryffindors was enough in these times to be regarded evil. Thus Jasna was branded before anyone had the chance to truly observe or get to know her.
When the feast was over and the students had to retire to their dorms, the remaining teachers at the table slowly stood up and went to their quarters, many happy to be far away from the Death Eaters. Jasna remained sitting until even the Carrows disappeared; only a nod a necessary acknowledgment of their departure. A silent sigh escaped her when the hall emptied.
"That went well, don't you think," she asked him not truly expecting an answer. She had felt the darkness gather in both of them with every minute spent among so much negative emotions spinning around the room, sinking into the stones. The students had been apprehensive about this year, but in the end the only eyes she felt look at her were filled with hate. Were she a weaker person, she would have given up her plans of escaping this place altogether. But she had gritted her teeth against such thoughts and pushed away the dark magic even when it ate away at what little energy she had. At least her garment acted as a thin buffer against so much negative energy. There truly was magic in handmade things after all.
Snape's shadow fell over her suddenly and a pale long-fingered hand appeared at her right side. He had guessed correctly that she was far too tired to manage walking to their chambers, let alone find the way and protect herself from any surprises. He had felt her battle, but was in no position to interfere. She was sure both their faces must have been made of stone which did nothing to comfort the children, but she did not have control over her magic yet. It irked that she was unable to be herself though.
"Thank you," she said distractedly as he pulled her up, but her voice came out weaker than she expected. Snape was mildly worried about that but he decided to let her get a good night's rest before making any judgements. He took the shortest way to their quarters, not bothering to point things out since she was too tired to remember – he would teach her some other day as he really had neither desire nor time to be her personal guide.
"Is there anything I should know of my duties as your wife?" she asked him at her room's door. "What the staff and students expect of me?" she clarified.
"Be present at the meals, otherwise remain out of sight for now," he told her not unkindly. "We will soon see what changes will be necessary." She nodded in consent and softly closed the door when the house-elf appeared to take care of her change of dress.
Snape stood there a moment longer before he turned in the direction of his office with resolution darkening his eyes. Dumbledore had many books about temples and their guardians in the more secret corners of his extensive library and Severus intended to find out more about her – specifically things he did not already know about her magic. He had a niggling feeling it was very important he researched more about her now that he actually had time for it. After all, he could always catch up on sleep some other day.
If only he knew what would happen in the morning, he would have gone to bed instead. Unfortunately he was busy pouring over old texts in his office until the clock chimed it was breakfast time and therefore missed Jasna on her way to the Great hall. So, the weakened priestess wandered the corridors alone – a prey for the more vindictive population of the school.
With the helpful instructions from her personal house-elf Tatty she knew in which direction to go, but the fluctuating magical energies were distracting her and she missed more than one turn in the maze that was Hogwarts. A bit put out by that fact and also feeling slightly stupid to let her pride get the better of her, she cursed under her breath the wizard who did not show up at the appropriate time to guide her to the hall thus forcing her to attempt this on her own.
Another slightly darker corridor brought her closer to her destination but also into the heart of danger. Students were hurrying to arrive on time since new rules made that mandatory.
The upper Slytherins nodded to her and she returned the greeting cordially, knowing she was close to her destination. But that action sealed her fate in the eyes of one determined and bitter sixth-year Gryffindor who had sought shelter from the Snakes in a dark niche. In a move that was neither premeditated nor rationalised he decided to hex her when she would move past his hiding spot. His anger at the position he found himself in and the world in general made it easy to act rashly. If she was a dark priestess she deserved it, he parroted some of his mates.
Jasna had decided to let the Slytherin students move forward and follow after a moment to keep distance from them. She was not stupid enough to think they would treat her better than the Death Eaters – they all had their roles to play and the faces and murmurs at the feast were one disappointment too much. Yet there was also another reason for dallying – she felt rather ill from the strenuous walk. The portrait of an old witch was very interested in her, so Jasna decided to talk to it for a few minutes.
Maybe that is the perfect moment to find a place for my rituals, she thought.
Just a minute or two into the conversation her magical core started acting up - the darkness pushing to the surface. It puzzled and alarmed her. What is going on? What is this supposed to mean, by Zorya?
Then it happened. Just a moment before the painful hex hit her in the shoulder blade, she sensed the dark intent, but it was too late. A red mark appeared on her skin through the layers of cloth, making her let out a short scream of pain and surprise. The burning sensation did not cease, but only intensified as the darker magic got out of her control.
A red haze fell over her eyes as it greedily fed on the hex, intensifying it and ripping control of her magical core from her hands as her concentration shattered. Somehow she dimly registered Snape's surprise and alarm as he suffered from the backlash too. But the sensation was pushed aside by the alarming events just playing out. She could feel how an invisible dark fire gathered around her, the dark magic scorching the floors with runes of protection that were her magic's instinctual response at the threat, but perverting them at the same time into something sinister she could not control.
She whirled around, her empty gaze fixed upon the hidden student who had attacked her with the painful hex.
"By Morana, run if you value your life," she hissed at him in rage at his foolishness. The dark magic flowed from her in waves, chilling the air in the corridor sufficiently to make her breath appear in small white puffs. He did not budge as he did not recognize the danger he was in.
"What are you waiting for you idiot?!" she screeched. This made him appear reluctantly from his niche, but not leave the corridor. He still held his wand in a white-knuckled grip, but dared not cast again even if the witch had not yet drawn her wand.
"Of all the foolish…" she muttered through clenched teeth, her eyes tinting black. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!"
The first of the scones on the wall burst in a fantastical display of power that scared the cowering sixth-year sufficiently to make him run as if a manticore were after him. She sank to the ground and started the battle. However, the walls filled with centuries old magic made it harder to gain control again. She could feel the rebuilt strands strain under the pressure but they held strong with the help of the dark wizard who was running to her help at the very moment.
Taking hold of the veil covering her hair, she ripped it off and the pins holding it in a bun – long dark strands pooled around her as she started to chant silently. Her eyes were almost completely black by then. She could hold the magic inside the corridor, but was unable to do more without more time or help. It was too strong and she felt how the remnants of the Dark Lord's mark wanted to come alive again.
Jasna hoped nobody would enter the corridor until she got the situation under control, but it was to no avail. A group of first year Ravenclaws entered muttering about the cold only to freeze as the dark magic grabbed at them and started pulling them inside the circle of runes.
"No!" Jasna cried out in fright, reaching out with her hand to protect them. "Morana! Not the children!" she cried.
A pale white light managed to manifest on the stone floor only just fast enough to make a barrier for them. Then she lost the power to fight and her consciousness. Falling to the cold floor, she could only hope help would reach them in time.