Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns the characters but I have made them dance this time. No money made, no gratuities accepted except the reviews of my peers, for which I thank you.
I always answer my reviewers if they leave a name and I am always happy to chat with them over PM. Huge thanks and a great deal of gratitude as you are the reason I managed to get out of the mud and get going again.
If you have a flame to send, I suggest you do a spell check, the last couple look like they were written by a drunken kindergartener.
Another huge thanks to my BeST betas Zarathustra46 and the Wicked Bunjhny who make this lot legible and grammatically sane.
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Chapter 11 – The Joining
Severus was uncurling, that was a given. Even lying in the hammock, he didn't look quite so hunched and fragile anymore. Nodding to himself, Snape carefully gathered his alter up and carried him into the cottage they inhabited. He would be reasonably safe in the bed there.
Once the physical aspect of Severus' person was settled and wrapped up snugly, Snape went through to the kitchen and made a pot of tea almost by remote control, his mind completely occupied by the words that strange fellow, Harry Potter, had said to him. Stupid boy had offered him 'anything'. Him, Snape! Mad, completely barking… and yet… Was Snape really existing inside his mind, was he actually his own mind? It was a very unsettling thought, one that could lead to a circular path and eventually to the disintegration of cohesion.
He drank his tea. The simple act of lifting the scalding hot liquid to his lips and inhaling the musty odour of Black Russian Caravan made his scuttling thoughts pause and settle. To approach the problem logically he had to remember a few occurrences, such as the null time when everything was grey and uniform. Then there was the light, a single point of light that led him to knowledge and creation. The storehouse of knowledge under his feet had been disguised by the tall trees he had made at the edge of his property. Made? Didn't he mean grown? But no, he really did make them… brought them into existence by his will alone, now that he thought about it. Maybe the boy was right; maybe he was inside his own mind.
Closing his eyes, he focussed, then smiled slightly as Ibrim took the seat opposite and folded his hands on the age polished wood. "Good of you to come," Snape murmured, offering tea yet knowing it would be declined.
"What can I help you with, Snape?" Ibrim asked, a Dumbledoresque smile gracing his lips and an all too familiar twinkle in his eyes.
Snape rolled his eyes and sighed. It was sort of inevitable that his friend, mentor and surrogate father would influence him in some ways. Thank goodness it was only in a divorced way, not something outward and overt! "I have to go and seek more knowledge in the vault. Severus has been badly injured again and I need you to keep an eye on him while I am away."
"Very well. Do you want me to treat him in any way?"
"See if you can get him to wake and make him happier. That should help."
Ibrim nodded serenely as Snape rose and pulled his robes straight. Ibrim annoyed the hell out of him at times but he was good for babysitting, all kindness and calming influence, damn it. Sometimes that was exactly what was needed Snape acknowledged ruefully as he strode off through the garden and headed for the staircase he had hidden in the roots of a gnarled old oak tree. He sincerely hoped the repository of knowledge would have some information on what had happened to him, who Potter was, and how he had ended up in his own mind without realising it.
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Morecombe and Thornfeld looked slightly seedy to Spencer as they assembled in Morecombe's office the next morning, the lightweights. Spencer teased them gently as they both consumed Sobriety potions and gagged at the horrendous taste. But the potions worked their magic and within ten minutes both wizards were ready to begin the preparations. Fortunately, the preparations were neither lengthy nor arduous, just a plain wooden platform was needed to hold the victim. The platform had to be encircled and encased in chalk dust and powdered moonstone wards. Finally, there had to be three wands, one for each aspect of the personality that needed integration.
After a lot of drunken teasing, it had been decided that Spencer would be the body as he had the most weight to toss around. Morecombe would tackle the spirit since he was more playful and light-hearted than the other two. Thornfeld was given the mind, his speciality. He was supposed to be brainier than the other two, or so they teased him. Because Professor Snape was a genuine protégé, although none of them wanted to admit it, and simply brilliant, they decided it would be easier to tackle the melding of spirit and body first; then all three would concentrate on the mind. The ritual would be slightly lop-sided this way, but on the whole, it was the safest way to go.
Of course, getting Snape out of his own room was the first order of business and that was a challenge in itself as the man now had a roster of guards hanging around his door, obstructing normal services and pointedly questioning anyone who wanted to enter the Professor's room, with attitudes of heightened suspicions and distrust. This morning it was Kingsley Shacklebolt on duty, his red Auror's robes lending him a unique authority amongst the usual rag-tag rabble of guards. He glared at the attendants who brought a stretcher in to carry the Professor up to the Spell Damage ward, wanting to know by whose authority they were doing the transfer.
"By mine, Medi-wizard 'in charge of this case' Thornfeld!" Tobias was forced to snarl at the finish. "Do you want this man to get better or are you content to have him languishing in a coma for the rest of eternity?" Thornfeld glared. "Well then, stop obstructing my staff and allow us to know more about medical treatments of patients than an Auror!"
While Shacklebolt didn't wilt under the barrage of sarcasm, he did have the courtesy to step aside but even so, he decided to send a message out as he watched the hovering stretcher move down the corridor to the lifts, the Medi-wizard in charge stomping angrily at its side.
Thornfeld was still huffing and cursing as they made their way to the annex outside the Janus Thackery ward. They manoeuvred the stretcher into the warded and secure treatment room where his colleagues waited. Everything needed for the Ritual was ready, the usual central operating table exchanged for a spell-free wooden one. Morecombe had already placed the necessary candles in their Ritualistic holders at the cardinal points. Spencer, with his steady and experienced hand, had drawn the chalk lines to contain their workings with the standard number two Moonstone and Dover Chalk powder St Mungo's kept on hand for just such occasions. The standard operating arena wards were in place ready to be triggered as soon as the patient was settled on the central bier.
Slipping on a sterile and magic-neutralised working robe, Thornfeld took his place at the head of the wooden platform. The well-trained Spell Damage witches laid their patient out carefully with his head pointing north, his hands crossed lightly on his magical core*, and legs slightly spread apart, as the ritual called for. Thornfeld gently placed his hands on both sides of Snape's head, fingers fanned out over temples and skull, ready to hold on and keep Snape's head steady if it became necessary. Morecombe placed his hands on either side of the Professor's ribs, near his heart, and Spencer took a firm grip on his thighs from the opposite side of the table. Often patients bucked hard so a good solid hold was absolutely critical in these rituals. An attendant closed the chalk circle around the magic procedure and shut the door on his way out. The wards sprang into place as the three men began the Reunification Ritual to bring Professor Snape back into the world of the conscious as a whole being… or so they hoped.
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Ibrim moved into the second part of the construction Snape had designated a cottage. Snape's constructions were always much more elaborate than the lattices Ibrim would construct if left to himself. It was amusing that both Snape and Severus had to make analogues of the physical world here in their mind to be comfortable inhabiting it. Severus, who was partially Snape's representative construction of his physical self, partially Severus' own self-image, and Ibrim's rationalisation, was still snugly wrapped in a bundle of protective wards Snape had layered over him. Yet Severus' awareness opened as Ibrim approached. It took a few moments to coax the aspect out and into the larger part of the construct where Severus could become more aware of himself and the surroundings.
After a few minutes, the cottage construct firmed and took on a more substantial life as Severus became more aware and understanding of where they were. He blinked, then blinked again and tentatively smiled at the filmy representation of the soul they all shared. It too had firmed and had become closer to a real person, and less like a lacy ghost of greys and space. Neither aspect bothered with words, knowing or feeling, rather sharing a bond that did not rely on the absolute definition Snape insisted on giving everything. Ibrim offered 'sustenance'; Severus accepted 'tea' and both sat at the 'table' in a contented silence.
"I was hurt, Snape came and got me," Severus finally spoke aloud, very unusual for the body representative.
Ibrim nodded. "Snape tasked me to watch over you while he was away in the deeper levels."
"Oh."
Comfortable silence ruled for a time, then Severus began to fidget for a few moments. Finally he straightened, glancing about uneasily. "Do you feel that? Someone is calling me. It's not Snape."
Ibrim blinked and frowned slightly but could detect no differences in the surroundings. He shrugged lightly but Severus was soon on his feet pacing and peering out the windows, wringing his hands and darting his head about nervously. "Something... Someone is calling and I don't know who it is! It's not Snape. Where is Snape? I want him! He knows about things, lots of things, not like... I... I'm frightened, Ibrim."
"Hush, Severus, it will be alright," the spirit began to soothe but the body would not relax or stand still, jiggling from one foot to the other ever more rapidly, as he had when they were children.
"Is He coming, or Her?" Severus finally asked in a very small, child-like voice, the whole aspect shrinking and de-aging before Ibrim's eyes.
"No, our father is dead, as is Lord Voldemort. Our Grandmother is just a malicious echo of a ghost now, so we are safe from them, or so Snape assures us," Ibrim reassured him, attempting to coax Severus to seat himself at the table once again to take additional tea.
Severus began to twitch and shiver, the tea slopping over his hands without regard. "Is it Snape calling us?"
"No, not Snape and yes..." He paused to peer into the shadows of the cottage construction warily, uneasily. "I feel it now. It's as if we were being Summoned by someone… but who would summon us?" Ibrim looked up, then down cautiously as if trying to determine the direction of the subtle, silent call.
"I don't like it. It's not right,' Severus said suddenly, rising so abruptly, he overset the chair and made the cups rattle… or did he?
There was a subtle vibration travelling through the space they inhabited, causing the whole of the constructed environment to shudder rhythmically, the walls and floor rolling to the pulse. Ibrim rose too, glancing at his counterpart who somehow seemed to be growing more substantial to his eyes; oddly so as if powered by something outside himself. Severus was not happy about this renewed vigour, his expression pained and fearful as he reached out a hand.
Unthinkingly, Ibrim caught the long, thin fingers identical to his own, clutching the hand in tight comfort but then found he could not let go. His hand was slowly melding into Severus' fingers, merging together but not aligned properly, and it hurt! Severus began to make high, whimpering noises, trying to free himself. His eyes darted about wildly looking for escape but found he could not move from the spot as Ibrim was dragged toward him, the table no obstruction as the spirit was pulled through it.
The whimpers turned into a fearful chant of 'no, no, no' as the two aspects were forced together. Unfortunately the misalignment only got worse as chest was forced to merge into chest, the two bodies mirror reversed. Ibrim managed to resist the horrible melting sensation for a few seconds, long enough to whisper reassurance to his counterpart. "Don't fear it, Severus, we will always be together, we are one and the same, we always have been and now we will be one whole of two parts; relax, fear not. Please! Fear not, my lad."
They merged back to front and clashed, then shuddered and twisted as they tried to align themselves comfortably within the confines of the one body space. It was not easy, almost impossible, as the chant was now deafening and booming in the space, forcing the bonding with uncompromising brute strength. Severus screamed as the misaligned parts of himself tried to compromise but was given no space to come about and turn for a better fit. It was a hideously cruel thing to do to anyone but there was no escape from the force that bludgeoned them together and welded them into a mismatched conglomerate that had no way to manoeuvre.
Ibrim tried to shift into a better fit but the smallest twitch simply made the outside force tighten its grip and inflict even more damage. Realising he had only one way to protect Severus with all that he had, he sent a wave of comfort through to the twisted body they now both inhabited and simply closed his metaphysical eyes. He shut his conscious 'self' down leaving Severus alone in the binding space, freeing him from the crushing forces that were threatening to destroy him forever.
Severus howled in terror as Ibrim ceased to exist.
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Harold Spencer gasped and panted; his part of the chant more a test of brute strength as he held the body down except the thighs, Spencer's magic being the anchor for the other two participants. The Ritual had begun easily enough, all three of them chanting the first stanza in chorus.
Integro haec terci, spiritus, intellect et corporis. Decoquo ea acc metempsychis, acc unicum corpus. ↕
Each repeat built on the previous one until a ball of undefined magic had been gathered over the patient's core. Then, to place it in the best possible position, Spencer had left the chorus to begin his own line of the Ritual.
Conligare corporis. Fingo demonst acc solidissimus sola integratus.
As Spencer spoke his line, the ball of magic spread over the patient's body, highlighting the chakra points and the main magical channels, making them starkly visible to the naked eye. His own magic reinforced the spell until it was pulsing and growing in time to the Chant as it should. Spencer's magic was the anchoring of the whole Ritual and as soon as he stabilised Snape's body as his part in the Ritual dictated, he began repeating the two lines of the Ritual one after the other to keep the Chant going and keep the body's magic stable and solid. When he had the magic perfectly balanced, he nodded without missing a beat and Morecombe shot him a twisted little smile as Morecombe broke his rhythm to begin his part of the ritual.
Pollex Morecombe began to chant his line of the Ritual.
Conligare Spiritus. Fingo demonst acc solidissimus sola integratus.
Morecombe's part was to call to the spiritual part of the patient and integrate it into the body. This was not exactly the hardest part of the Ritual; this part would be relatively easy as Spencer was a solid anchor and their magic was quite complimentary. Also, and although none of them had mentioned it, Professor Snape's spirit was probably pretty pathetic, not a strong or particularly upright part of the man. After all, he was an ex-Death Eater and Death Eaters were definitely low on the spiritual life side of the scale. Still, as Morecombe chanted, he felt resistance growing, more than any of them expected. Surprised, he tightened his Chant and made sure his accent was as pure as he knew how to make it, then began putting real effort into his Ritualistic part.
Thornfeld raised a questioning eyebrow when he felt the chant begin to judder and jerk, the spirit resisting the push into the body, fighting madly like a small animal caught in a trapIt was now too late to stop and reconsider their approach. Finally, after a number of attempts to escape, the two parts of the whole meshed and settled. Morecombe modified his part of the ritual, joining in the first line with Spenser and repeating his own line when Spencer said his, thus reinforcing the body anchor and keeping the two parts together. Now came the hardest part as they all knew Professor Snape's mind was the strength and force that had driven the man to greater and greater heights all his life. Integrating mind and body was not going to be so easy, that was a given!
Figuratively girding his loins, Thornfeld waited until Morecombe was properly settled into the holding chant before Thornfeld began his own part of the Ritual.
Conligare Intellect. Fingo demonst acc solidissimus sola integratus.
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Author's notes:
*Magical Core placement - I always thought the magical core would be pretty much where the Chinese feel the 'dantien' is located, below the diaphragm and stomach, and above the bladder. (The Wicked Bunjhny tells me it's called the dan tien and is located two finger widths, index and middle fingers together, below the belly button.)
Yes, yes, I know, MORE RITUALS!. I like rituals; we all live by rituals, whether they're something simple like 'take a deep breath before you open a door onto a difficult situation' or something as complicated as how you prepare for bed to guarantee a good night's sleep. People need rituals and habits to get them through the minefields we call our normal day!
↕ Integratus Spell
English:
Integrate these three, spirit, mind and body. Fuse them into a soul-migration, a single body.
Part One: Unite Body. Integrate them into an unbroken single whole. (Spencer's part)
Part Two: Unite Spirit. Integrate them into an unbroken single whole. (Morecombe)
Part Three: Unite Mind. Integrate them into an unbroken single whole. (Thornfeld)
Latin:
Integro haec terci, spiritus, intellect et corporis. Decoquo ea acc metempsychis, acc unicum corpus.
Part One: Conligare corporis. Fingo demonst acc solidissimus sola integratus.
Part Two: Conligare Spiritus. Fingo demonst acc solidissimus sola integratus.
Part Three: Conligare Intellect. Fingo demonst acc solidissimus sola integratus.
It's rough but honestly the best I could do. Thank you Words by William Whitaker
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