A Mad Murderess
The morning sun found Severus Snape wide awake in the kitchen, brewing yet another pot of strong, black tea.
He had worked deep into the night, preparing everything that was possible without the necessary potions ingredients. He only hoped Potter would be able to procure them – though he very much doubted it – for it would take him days to order and receive them from his usual sources. Days they didn´t have.
The longer he had worked, only pausing now and then to glare at the shimmering vials of memories, the more worried he had become. With the tight schedule they had, all would depend on Potter's strength and endurance, which in turn depended on Snape's potions and his ability to keep the brat as calm and relaxed as possible. And while Snape had absolute trust in his brewing skills, he very much doubted his ability to not snap at Potter continuously. Potter was like an itching toe, a point of constant irritation and impossible to ignore.
And yet, Snape would have to keep him alive, which meant the avoidance of any stress, be it emotional or physical. While forcing him to live through his most terrifying memories, by the way. He snorted.
Snape was just placing the kettle back on the stove when he heard a sound behind him. Not Potter, who was probably still snoring away in his upstairs room, but the soft footsteps of someone who didn´t want to be noticed. Silently, careful to not make any conspicuous movements, he drew his wand.
But before he could whirl around and hex whoever was sneaking into the kitchen, a hand grasped his forehead, jerked his head back and his throat came into sudden contact with cold steel.
"Drop the wand." A voice snarled near his right ear and Snape obeyed, though reluctantly. "Who are you? And what are you doing here?"
"Eating." Snape answered coolly, taking care to sound as if it was an everyday question. "And who are you?"
"What have you done to the boy?" His attacker snarled again, and this time, Snape was sure: the stranger was a woman. A very old woman, with a voice as rusty and rasping as the movements of a gnarled tree. Was she a Death Eater? Or were there any other groups out for Potter´s head. It wouldn´t surprise Snape, as he himself had thought of hiring assassins to finish the brat more than once.
"What makes you think I did anything to him? I could be his guest, for all you know."
"You are a wizard!" The woman hissed. "The boy would never associate with the likes of you."
Snape relaxed slightly at the tone of her voice. He could make out care, and worry. So she was on Potter´s side – all he had to do now was to convince her not to kill him.
"Well, he does associate with me, and of free will." Although the last part is not strictly true.
"Stop lying and tell me where he is. You have three seconds before I kill you."
"Now really," Snape answered, thinking fast. "He could be anywhere! In his bedroom, or under the shower. I don´t know…"
"That´s not very satisfying. Three seconds are over." She whispered coldly and he wanted to laugh at the sheer irony of this. After twenty-seven years of fighting against the darkest wizard the world had seen, he was to be killed in a sunny kitchen, by an old, probably raving mad, woman.
"Professor, why… Ayda! Let him go immediately!" It was probably the first time Potter´s voice produced more positive feelings than irritation in Snape. Well, he could have come a bit earlier, he grumbled to compensate for that moment of weakness.
He could feel mistrust radiating from the woman behind him, and for a moment he worried she wouldn´t obey. "Are you sure?" She asked, turning her head towards the kitchen door from where Potter´s voice had come.
"Of course I´m sure. Don´t be a bitch, Ayda." Potter answered impatiently.
And Snape was released. He bent down quickly to retrieve his wand, then whirled around to his attacker.
It was indeed a woman, and a very old one at that. Her silver hair flew around her head in wild locks, and her skin had the consistency of wrinkled leather. A pair of very blue eyes stared at him from below bushy eyebrows, a pair of eyes that held a rather unfriendly expression.
"Is it normal that mad murderers stroll around your kitchen, Potter?" He demanded coldly.
To his immense irritation, Potter just chuckled as the woman sent him a wary look. She hadn´t re-sheathed the knife, he noticed.
"No Professor." Potter answered. "Just this one mad murderess. Her name is Ayda and she´s a friend of mine. Though she overdoes the act, sometimes." He added, sending the old woman a warning glance.
"This is Professor Snape, Ayda. He´s come to deal with my illness, which, by the way, finally acquired a name and a possible treatment."
"Good for it." She replied shortly, then placed the knife into a sheath at her hip and proceeded to eye Snape curiously. "So this is Professor Snape." She said, clearly having heard about him before. From what he expected Potter to have told about him, Snape was rather surprised she had put away the knife and not attacked him again.
But to his even greater surprise, her face broke into a lopsided grin that turned her skin into a rock face of wrinkles. She stepped towards him and offered a large, callused hand.
"Glad to meet you, Snape." She announced. "Heard only the best about you!"
This shocked Snape. Being attacked from behind – he was used to that. But being welcomed by a friend of Potter with a smile and a handshake? Something of his confusion must have shown on his face, for Potter chuckled again in that annoying way of his, and moved over to the kitchen counter.
"Let´s sit down and have tea." He proposed. "You brought the supplies, Ayda?"
"Left them outside when I saw him in the kitchen." She explained, indicating with a flick of her hand quite unnecessarily who him was. She left through the garden door and re-entered a moment later with a bundle that looked like rags tied into a ball.
She sat on the chair Potter offered, gulped down the tea he poured her without a word, and started rummaging through the bundle while Potter refilled her cup, then served Snape and himself.
Snape´s irritation turned into surprise, which slowly grew to astonishment. One by one, the old woman produced the ingredients he had ordered, from the powdered unicorn horn, which was restricted in use to only registered Potions Masters, to the dried Shadow fern, which was outright illegal, all wrapped in the same, dirty parchment that looked like it had come out of some garbage heap.
"Should be everything," She muttered, closing her bundle and placing it beside her chair. Then, she fixed a critical look on Potter.
"You look dreadful," Ayda commented coolly, as if he was a strange plant or animal. "All pale and worn. How long till you´re dead?"
Potter just shrugged his shoulders. "Couple of weeks, probably," He answered just as coolly. "Depends on the convulsions. But Professor Snape here invented a rather brilliant way of snapping me out of them."
"That so?"
"He hit me."
"Oh," Ayda eyed Snape again, this time with outright respect. "Call me when you need assistance for that, Professor."
Potter just snorted, as if they were talking about some recipe.
Against his will, Snape found himself forced to enter the conversation. "You will not die, Potter. At least not if I can help it."
"So what will you do to stop that?" Ayda again, sounding flippantly, as if the denial of Potter´s death offended her. He found himself wondering if she really was Potter´s friend.
"Treat him."
"How?"
And so, not without a deep sigh to show his exasperation, Snape plunged into yet another explanation of Potter´s illness and its treatment.
And when he finished, Ayda´s face had changed. For the first time since this talk about death and its prevention had begun, she showed signs of concern, and sorrow. Though I wonder why she worries more about the treatment than the illness.
"I´m sorry, boy," She told Potter now, resting a hand on his shoulder for a moment. "There´s no way around it?"
"None that I could think of yet."
"I´ll help you think, then."
"Excuse me," Snape nearly growled, tired by this acute display of sphinxism. "We´re talking about his treatment here. Though I don´t see why anybody should wish to be a friend of Potter´s, if you are one, you should have the sense to be glad instead of condoling him!"
Once again, she shot him a long, critical look, and Snape couldn´t help but wonder if Potter had learned his glaring from her. "And you told me he was clever," She said to Potter in an accusing tone.
"He is. Brilliant, even," Potter answered calmly, and Snape´s brows rose in disbelief. "He´s just not very good with people things. Do you care for breakfast, Ayda?"
And Snape decided to keep his mouth shut, fearing that only confused stuttering would escape it. That would simply not do.
So he watched silently as Potter set the table and Ayda, who had not lifted a hand to help her young friend, wolfed down food hungrily.
"How are Rim, and Cary?" He asked, while setting a plate down in front of his Potions Master. "Did the amulets help?"
"Perfectly," She replied in between two bites. "Though Cary's still ugly as the night. But Rim's driving himself crazy now, wondering when you will collect his debt."
And so they went on, for nearly twenty minutes, exchanging news and questions about strange people and unknown places. Potter had turned towards Snape several times, as if to explain something or include him into the conversation, but the death glare his old Potions Master sent him every time stopped him quite effectively. At least one success for the day, Snape thought darkly while doing his best to store all this casual information in some part of his memory, ready to be re-examined whenever he could spare the time.
"And how was the old man?" Ayda now asked, her tone of voice suggesting a disdain that normally was reserved for slimy things that had crawled out of the gutters, again. "Meddling as always?"
Potter nodded mutely. "Tried to keep me there," He answered after a moment of silence, and Snape realized with a shock that the old woman was talking about Dumbledore, hero of the wizarding world. "I only managed to escape because Professor Snape was willing to come here. Otherwise, I would be incarcerated in some tower by now and force fed with sweets."
"I told you it was a bad idea to return there," Ayda said, no compassion noticeable in her voice. "Wizards are that way. You can't change them, only hit them over the head and run."
Amusement warmed Potter's voice as he met his friend's eyes squarely. "I am a wizard, too, Ayda!"
"Well, we all have our shameful little secrets, Potter," She commented lightly, her eyes twinkling mischievously.
Potter raised his hands in mock terror. "Please spare me yours," he pleaded. "I don't want to become blind and deaf at so young an age!"
Ayda chuckled in agreement, and for one, surreal moment, something in that chuckle told Snape that Potter hadn't been joking. At least not completely.
"Oh, by the way," She then announced in a voice that was slightly too by the way. "I met Shadow yesterday and he asked me why you hadn´t visited for weeks. I told him that your illness had gotten worse and he…"
Potter buried his head in his hands and groaned loudly. "Why did you have to tell him?" He wailed. "He will be furious!"
"Well, he was," She admitted reluctantly. "But you should have told him, you know."
Snape, having given up on understanding anything for the moment, leaned back and observed Potter´s strange reaction with interest.
"I know," He admitted wearily, not meeting Ayda´s reproachful eyes. "But he will be going all protective over me, and fuss, and threaten people, and propose to turn me… He´s always worrying so much about me."
"Well, he had good reason to do so in the past, hadn´t he?" Ayda commented. "The state you were in when he…"
A warning look from Potter silenced her, and Snape found his curiosity rising. Whoever this Ayda and the mysterious Shadow were, there seemed to be more to Potter´s unknown past than just work in a bookshop and travelling. Not that he cared, personally, but he preferred to know as much about people as he could, and obviously, Potterr had changed during the last eight years. He wasn´t sure yet if for the better or the worse.
"I´ll visit him." Potter finally ended the contest of silent stares that had taken place between him and the old woman. "Tomorrow, perhaps. It depends on Professor Snape´s plans."
His eyes seemed to ask forgiveness from the woman for his harsh reaction, and the tiny smile that grazed her lips seemed to grant it.
"Well then," Ayda finally said and stood, once more shouldering her bundle. "You think you´ll be still alive in a week?"
"I will do my best," Potter answered with a grin.
"Then we´ll see each other again, brat," She grinned back, and to Snape´s horror, sank into a rather badly balanced curtsey in front of Snape. "Keep an eye on him, Master Potions Master," She admonished him. "And work on that people thing. It needs training."
And with that, she was gone.
Snape sighed and poured himself another cup of tea. "Care to enlighten me what all this was about, Potter?" He asked lightly, making sure to keep the curiosity out of his voice.
Potter sighed and left the table, intending to brew another cup of tea.
"I´m sorry, Professor," He apologized. "I should have warned you, but I didn´t expect her to arrive so soon. My letter must have sounded pretty urgent. She´s very worried about me."
"She hid it well," Snape couldn´t help remarking. Potter smiled again, a far away expression in his eyes.
"They do, usually. They are not very emotional. Their's is a hard life."
"Who are we talking about, Potter?" Snape asked, little patience in his voice.
Potter cringed. Clearly, this wasn´t something he wished to reveal, but Snape had never been someone to let difficult topics pass. The more unpleasant for Potter, the better.
"Ever heard about the Druids?" Potter offered after a long moment of silence.
"GOOD GODS POTTER!" Snape had sprung up from the chair as if something had bitten him. Fury was radiating from him as he faced his former student. "Don´t tell me you associated with the Druids! Of all the stupid things…"
"Well," Potter answered after a while of silent staring, his voice very small. "You did, too. Just now, to be exact. Ayda is the leader of the British Druids."
Snape groaned, a sudden headache hammering behind his forehead, and sank back onto his chair. "The bloody leader of the bloody British Druids…" He murmured in shock.
The Druids were legendary, or, to be more precise, infamous. Wizards and witches themselves, they refused any contact with the life, customs and laws of the wizarding world. They were travelling people, and accepted orders and payment from muggles.
Their open announcement of the existence of magic had led to their banishment from the wizarding society in the 19th century. No wizard was to contact them. There were rumours, however, of banished wizards being adopted by the Druids, of magical children, stolen from their cribs, and rituals that went beyond even what dark wizards dared use. Dark wizards before Voldemort, that was.
"They are not as bad as their reputation," Potter saw it fit to defend his friend. "And I never saw them do something illegal… at least, nearly never."
"The ingredients spread just now on your kitchen table prove the opposite, Potter," Snape hissed. "And why was she able to enter the house? I thought you had the best wards possible?"
"The house is completely open to her. She´s my friend," Potter answered and Snape groaned again. "In fact, the room you slept in is often used by her, and she sometimes takes possession of my lab, too."
So Potter was harbouring dangerous criminals in his home? Why wasn´t he surprised.
"How the hell did you…" He began, intending to demand an explanation of this unbelievable friendship, but changed his mind along the way. "Never mind," He snapped. "And who is this Shadow she was talking about?"
If possible, Potter´s nervousness and embarrassment even heightened.
"Shouldn´t we be starting the procedure?" He asked, in a badly conceived effort to change the topic.
Snape raised a brow in surprise. For Potter to manoeuvre their talk towards his treatment, he must be desperate to hide something about this Shadow. But he decided to let it pass, They didn´t have much time, after all.
"Yes. Finish breakfast, then join me in the lab. There are several potions I have to brew, but I will do so in your resting periods. We need to hurry, Potter, if we want to heal you before it is too late."
He kept his last thought silent, but from Potter´s expression, he could have said it aloud as well, so obvious was his fear: Perhaps we´ll be too late, anyway.
0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0
A/N: How do you like Ayda? I'm giving you a choice to let her disappear if you don't want her! Just review (hint!) and tell me what you think about her.
Thank you all for your wonderful reviews - I'm impressed with the reaction to this story and very happy about all the known and unknown names I can read on my review page. thank you all thousands of times! (And go on like that!)