Authors' Notes: This story is part of an ongoing epic involving a natural Legilimens named Sydney (Siggy) Whetstone, a first year student at Hogwarts, his cat Morpheus, Severus Snape (who has become Siggy's guardian following the death of his abusive uncle), and Hermione Granger, who is studying Morpheus, a maneki neko with unusual magical powers. It takes place in roughly 2007 or thereabouts.
A Trip To Remember
A collaborative effort by Sinistra_Furze and SadiraSnape
CHAPTER 4 – On the road to Farafra
Dear Ginny,
two letters at once - To the tombs.
To avoid raising suspicion we had to travel to a place three hours from our destination in order to take the local transport, a rattling old bus whose suspension must have died on one of those dusty roads decades ago. It was hot, smelly, uncomfortable and noisy. By the time we arrived at the village I had deep regrets about leaving Mr Valentinas' marble bathrooms behind.
Siggy was expecting us to be met by one of the villagers he'd become acquainted with last time he visited. We sat on our bags at the dusty roadside watching the sun go down as we waited.
Unfortunately the expected host had to deal with a family emergency and it was a neighbour who came to collect us with profuse apologies for the lateness. Siggy made his greetings in the local dialect and appeared to be able to understand enough to hold a basic conversation, putting my stumbling efforts to shame. We were warmly greeted at a modest home and crammed into a small but clean room, hastily prepared.
In order to preserve anonymity we had to behave Muggle, so any cleansing charms, cooling charms, etc… had to be kept to a minimum and only performed when certain of not being observed.
We were all to stay in one room, furnished with the basics. After a satisfying meal we retired to discuss the next day's activities.
Siggy had heard of a supposedly haunted tomb in a place about a mile outside the village. His late Uncle believed it contained something of value and had tried to break into it unsuccessfully. Siggy thinks he knows how to do so, but wants to try on his own. I thought this rather brave of him, given his previous experiences. I wasn't sure if he was trying to prove himself, to overcome his fears, or not telling us the whole story. After agreeing to an early start we settled down to sleep.
Sometime around three am I was woken by a disturbance. It took me a few moments to gather my wits. Siggy was sitting up wide awake and badly upset. I spent a while calming him and making reassurances. He settled down but it wasn't until morning, when Severus was off buying supplies that I managed to get him to tell me what was wrong.
Siggy, as a natural Legilimens, is susceptible to an awareness of the thoughts of others. He usually spends a little time clearing his mind before sleeping as a precaution but being overtired he'd forgotten to do this, and while asleep had unconsciously drifted across his Professor's dreaming mind. He wouldn't say any more than it was "upsetting". Remembering some of the testimony we heard at the Trials after the war, the things Severus must have seen, experienced… it's no wonder. The physical scars are obvious but the mental scars, the painful memories are unseen but as deeply affecting. I should remember that when complaining about the MOB. After a smooth start my trip has begun to get uncomfortable in more ways than expected.
18 July
A long, long day, so this entry will be split into two. We're taking a well-deserved day off tomorrow, so I will finish this entry at that time. It will also give me time to reflect upon the decidedly odd occurrences, observations and revelations of this day…
Part 1 – the journey
Siggy had identified the village of Farafra as the location of the tomb his beast of an uncle attempted to rob (let us call a spade a spade), and so we traveled there by Muggle bus today, there being no Floo system available and it being too Muggle populated to risk apparation. I find I miss the extra stone I was carrying earlier in the season, as the vehicle's suspension was apparently of the 2 strips of leather and a prayer variety. I was pounded to death by that beastly thing, and will have to make use of my Debruising Lotion tonight or I shall be unable to sit anywhere. Must remember to offer some to Hermione – she seems to be walking a bit tenderly. Perhaps this evening we could all repair to Bir Sitta for a rejuvenating soak in the hot springs – it's only a few kilometers from Farafra itself.
Of course nothing bothers Siggy much – he was having entirely too much fun adding bounces to those provided by our ancient conveyance. Ah youth… it's wasted on the young.
After 3 hours of unrelenting physical torture we finally arrived at Farafra. We were supposed to be met by a fellah of Siggy's acquaintance from his previous expedition, but this worthy failed to show up. We were instead met by a neighbour after a wait of some time, citing a family emergency on the fellah's part. His profuse and charming apology served admirably to remove my minor irritation, which had also been appeased by observing the interesting effect sunset over the Sahara al-Beyda had on Hermione's face and hair (which has not bushed to the extent I predicted. Damn. That means I owe Filius 50 galleons upon my return. Hell.) – the scarlet and gold of the sky reflected most pleasingly in highlights in her hair, which is full and lustrous, not wiry and wild as I remember it. Her smooth skin picked up all the colors of the desert and the sky – gold and pale amaranth in the highlights, purple and green in the shadows, cream and tea rose in the midtones. Her eyes sparkled with the crimson fire of the sun as it sank below the dunes of the White Desert. All the flowers of England, sitting in the desert of Egypt.
(It was an Anti-Frizz Charm Filius was talking about! Why that sneaky little… I'll make him the angel atop the Christmas tree this year for this…) (No, the New Year's Baby….)
I've always loved Qasr al-Farafra – the Sahara al-Beyda with its outcrops of chalk make a stark contrast to the beauty and timelessness of the town and oasis. You can borrow a horse (one of the fine Arabians bred here – you don't find any horses like Farafran Arabians in England: beautiful, swift, and extremely intelligent) and ride into the desert, then head back to Bir Sitta for a soak under the stars or to the el-Mufid Lake, where the swimming is excellent.
But this isn't a travelogue. Nor am I a poet, although I seem to have waxed lyrical a paragraph or so ago. But let it stand – it's true.
Siggy is quite fluent in the local dialect, and performed brilliantly in discussing accommodations. I listened in to be sure everything was communicated correctly, but did not need to clarify a single time. Hermione attempted polite salutations, but she wasn't very good. I must introduce her to the Language By Owl lessons. She will also become more fluent if she accompanies me on future field expeditions….
At any rate, we soon found ourselves comfortably installed in a single room with the neighbour, which was quite spacious and very clean and neat. Since the neighbour is a Muggle, we are constrained to strictly Muggle behaviour. Fortunately Siggy is used to this, having done much traveling with the beastly uncle, and of course Hermione was raised a Muggle, so she is comfortable with it. We were served an excellent Bedouin feast, and repaired to our room to plan our assault on the tomb.
Siggy feels confident he can handle it, but I have every intention of standing back-up in case something untoward occurs. For all his ability, experience and his gifts, he is still just a boy of 12, and one never knows what could occur in the course of spell-breaking. I've reviewed all I know about the subject (which is quite a bit, if I do say so myself), and feel I can step in if necessary. I don't mean to unless it is absolutely required – Siggy needs all the confidence-building I as his guardian can provide to counter his previous damage. There is a powerful wizard in that youngster, but one that needs to rediscover trust in his own ability, lest he search for that assurance down darker paths.
We ran over some basic techniques for spell-breaking, then retired. Changing into sleepwear was a bit of a challenge, but we managed it with no breaches of modesty on anyone's part. (Sadly.) I am pleased to report that Hermione accepted some Debruising Lotion, but declined my gallant offer to assist in the application. Ah well. At least Siggy found my sally quite hilarious, as he laughed for at least 10 minutes, then spent another 15 occasionally snorting. Hermione went a fetching shade of scarlet, which I found rather amusing. Then she laughed a bit uncertainly, I quirked an eyebrow humourously, and allowed a faint smile to cross my lips.
It is pleasant to engage in some friendly banter instead of always having to be the forbidding Professor Snape. I do hope she can come to see me as Just Severus eventually. Siggy is well on his way to knowing that the two occupy the same body, and appear as the situation requires.
Same day – long before dawn
I was just awakened by an outburst from Siggy. I lay awake for a few moments, then heard Hermione get up and settle him again. I have waited until I heard them both snoring again (yes, the redoubtable Ms Granger does indeed snore, a small whistle with a tiny moan at the end, but a snore nonetheless) before retrieving my journal and recording this.
I woke up from a dream involving some of the events of the War, but featuring Siggy and Hermione, in danger, and there being nothing I could do to help them. It was highly reminiscent of the night Charity was murdered. Nagini was there, Riddle was there, the Malfoys, myself…. stop, Severus. If you revisit it, you'll just dream it again.
I wonder if Siggy, while asleep, accidentally picked up my dream? That isn't good; when we return to Hogwarts I must work with him on Occlumency while he is asleep. It wouldn't do for him to begin picking up my random thoughts regarding Hermione… even though I keep my thoughts well shielded from him. I must remember to reinforce my own shields at night.
I'm returning to bed – dawn will be here in a few hours, and I must get more sleep. Perhaps my dreams will take a more pleasant turn for the remainder of the night…
One can only hope.