Chapter two
He brings her to a medieval castle – they apparate there, as he calls it. It's beautiful. She has always liked these kinds of places. It's intriguing, full of mystery, dark.
She follows him to the entrance. His cloak billows out behind him. The entrance hall is empty. She looks around as they ascend the stairs. The castle is really beautiful, she envies those who work or study here – though she wouldn't want to be stuck in a castle, however beautiful, year-round.
They arrive at two gargoyles. Severus murmurs something indiscernible – a password, presumably – and a moving staircase appears. At the top, behind a door, they arrive in a rather unusual office. The rounded room is filled, top to bottom, with special, unique artefacts and many books. Behind the desk an old man is seated. He looks up at them, observing them through his half-moon shaped glasses.
"Severus? Who is this young lady?" He questions the dark man.
"Not to be disrespectful, sir, but may I first inquire who you are?"
"Of course," the man nods, "I'm Albus Dumbledore, headmaster of this school."
She faintly recognizes that name, but she can't place it. Perhaps she once read about him? She does, sometimes, read books about the magical world she knows exists next to the non-magical one, even though she never got into contact with this world, until now.
"There's no need to worry, you're safe here," he continues with a soft, calming voice when she doesn't react immediately, mistaking her silence for fear. She simply nods.
"So you don't know who I am? You are a witch, yes?"
"I am indeed, though not exactly the same way all of you are. My name is Sasha Louhi."
"Louhi? Where have I heard that name before?"
"In Finnish mythology, presumably," Severus drawls from beside her.
"Ah yes, thank you Severus, I thought it sounded familiar. So you are the descendant of Louhi, which explains your different powers."
She nods, "Indeed."
"And, pray tell, Ms Louhi, why are you here, now?"
In her stead Severus explains calmly, "Rowle and a few others, in hopes of having some 'fun', decided to kidnap a muggle, last night. But when Dolohov reached out to touch her, while she was unconscious, he was thrown back. He thought Rowle or one of the others had done it, but all denied it. The Dark Lord stepped in and ordered them to bring her to him, so he could question her. He ordered her to spy for him at the school, among the students, when he found out about her, seemingly unique, powers."
Sasha raises her eyebrows at him, "You're a spy," she deduced, "Alright then. Seems to be full of surprises, this world of yours," she states.
Dumbledore's eyes seem to twinkle in amusement behind his glasses, "He is indeed. Severus works as a spy for our side, pretending to be on their side."
Unbelievingly she raises her eyebrows, "How can you be so certain? He tells the exact same thing to that 'lord'."
"I will answer that question, in time. But, Ms Louhi, you simply agreed to Voldemort's idea? Should we be worried?"
She smiles, "Honestly, I didn't even know there was an actual war going on. I was too busy trying to live a 'normal' life, for once. He ordered me to side with him, or he'd have me killed. I didn't have much of a choice."
"Well, I'm sure Severus will explain everything shortly. We do still have to sort you into a house, however."
"It might be better if she actually knows what a house is, before she's sorted into one, don't you think, headmaster?"
"Yes, yes, true, indeed. Why don't you both go to your office then, Severus, and explain everything to her? Afterwards you and Ms Louhi can come back here. In the meantime I'll notify a couple of the most involved Order members."
Severus nods and turns to the door, "Come," he orders once again. Sasha, a bit confused by all of this, follows after a last nod to the headmaster.
In the corridors his long legs allow him to walk quickly. She barely manages to keep up. They descend many staircases until they arrive in the dungeons. He stops abruptly at a wooden door. After moving his wand in a certain pattern, the door opens by itself. He goes in first. When she, too, is inside, the door slams closed behind her. They've arrived in an office. He sits down in a leather chair behind a dark, wooden desk. She sits down in front of him, on the other side of the desk, in another black chair. She waits patiently as he opens the left drawer and takes out a bottle and a tumbler. He fills the glass with an amber liquid. He questioningly looks at her while still holding the bottle, silently asking her whether she wants a drink. "No, thank you."
He puts the bottle away again and throws back the tumbler. He leans back in his chair, turning the emptied glass around in his hands, observing her with obsidian eyes.
"What do you know about this world and 'our kind' of magic, as you put it?" he grumbles.
"Not much. I've never socialised with your world as I've always tried to remain unnoticed. I did read a couple of books, however that was quite some time ago."
He raises one eyebrow, another silent question, 'why stay in the shadows?'
"I have enemies who are looking for me; who'd better not know where I am. As soon as I find a way to end them, though, I'll look for them, instead of the other way around."
"Hm. I shall tell you – as briefly as possible, I don't have all day – everything of importance to your stay here, then."
He explains the origin of the war to her, starting with the founding of Hogwarts and the conflict between Slytherin and the other three founders, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. Next about Voldemort and his followers (he even shows her, with some reluctance, his dark mark). And the history of Harry Potter, whose parents were murdered by the madman. He tells her about how he finally felt some remorse and decided to turn back to the light. (She feels, however, he isn't telling her everything about that remorse.) And then, about his status as a spy as well as about the Order of the Phoenix. Finally, he tells her about the last few years with Potter and friends.
"Any questions?"
She shakes her head in the negative, "No, not yet anyway."
He nods.
"So now I have to get sorted?"
"Indeed. But first: have you decided which side you're on?"
"How will you know whether I speak the truth?"
"Do you know legilimency? The power of invading one's mind, seeing their memories as well as feeling the feelings paired with them?"
"Mind-reading, you mean?
He snorts at the 'muggle' term, "Yes."
"I never practised mind-magic of that kind, no."
He raises his wand. Surprised, she tenses and watches him, "What are you doing?"
"I'll use legilimency on your mind to find out whose side you are on."
"What if I lied, and I have, in fact, practised mind-magic? After all, now that I know you're on the light side, I could pretend to be with you and then go tell the Dark Lord about your real loyalty."
"We'll see," he simply answers, "Legilimens!"
She closes her eyes, instinctively trusting this man.
Flashes of the last few hours pass their mind's eyes, the last few days, months, years. He flips through them, reviewing her past, until the flashes suddenly stop at one strong memory.
She was but a small child, eight years old at most. She ran through a forest until she arrived at a small village. She felt excited and couldn't wait to tell mother and father about her adventures of the day. There were perhaps twenty houses, all made out of wattle and daub in wooden frames, grouped around an open space. She ran towards a house that was built a bit farther away from the open space than the others. Inside the home was dark, cold. The only light came from the doorway, no fire was lit. She felt her excitement diminish, a strange sense of foreboding overcame her. As she entered she saw why. A woman lay on the floor, unmoving. "Mother!" the girl cried out, her voice full of anguish and pain. Getting closer to the deadly-white woman she saw another, bloodied body on the ground, a man, "Father!"
With a gut-wrenching inner pain she realized: they were dead.
She harshly falls back into her chair. Severus, who had stood to cast the spell, stumbles backward, surprised by what he's seen. Both are breathing heavily. He sees, for the first time, a flicker of vulnerability in her eyes. For a moment she closes her eyes. She breathes in deeply, calming herself. Seconds later she looks up again. The deep, dark blue is harsh again, cold and unfeeling, the slight moisture has disappeared. He silently wonders how she can possibly stay this calm after reliving such an experience. It's rather disturbing.
"That was certainly different," she states with an even, nearly cold, voice.
"How old are you?" His voice is stern.
"I beg your pardon?"
"You heard me."
"How old do I look?"
"I'm not talking about your physical appearance. When were you born?"
Ah. He must've noticed the memory he saw was a lot older than the fifteen or so years it should've been since she was eight. Considering she's showed him her innermost thoughts, she might as well give him her birthdate too, "I was born on the 24th of October 1695."
"How?" He obviously doesn't know whether to believe her or not, despite having seen that memory. Witches and wizards do live longer than muggles, but they can't live for three hundred years – and even over three hundred, apparently, as she doesn't seem to be old or fragile at all – with the exception of Nicolas Flamel and his wife, since they used the Philosopher's Stone. On top of that, she can't possibly look this young after having lived for such a long time. Even magic – at least the magic he knows of, which isn't little – can't disguise old-age for long. But she's a different kind of witch, and he doesn't know the details of her powers.
"Our bloodline, the Louhi-line, that is, has the power of making us live longer and look any age we want. Most of our line decided to live out a normal human life and let their body die. By keeping one's body at a rather young age and not letting it age, one can live much longer, which is what I did. I have no idea how long this can last for, however, as no one's ever actually tried to live endlessly. The reason I do this is to avenge my parents. I'll only let myself die once their murderer has suffered and died." Her voice was ruthless and emotionless as she spoke the last few words.
He doesn't comment on any of it, he only stores the information for later reflection.
"And what about you?" she then asks, as if she hadn't just spoken those words, "Which side are you on? Are you a simple spy or a double agent, walking the sharp edge?"
"I told you, I'm a spy on the so-called 'light side'."
"How do I know for sure? You say you felt remorse, but is that enough? I've seen plenty of the Dark Arts and I know one can't just simply let go of it, just because one decides it."
He doesn't ask her what exactly she knows about the Dark Arts, he knows he'll find out in due time. For now, he knows enough by viewing her memories. "It indeed was not easy to overcome the dark. Point is, I did, and that was a long time ago. Therefore I assure you, I am with Albus in this war, just like you."
"How are you so sure I am too?"
"I didn't just see that memory, I briefly sensed a few other parts of your life as well, which means that, even though I didn't see those memories as explicitly as the last one, I know you went through a dark phase and got out. I know you'll do the right thing and not willingly succumb to the dark, however appealing it may be to you."
She nods in understanding. He's right about his observations.
He gets up and she follows his lead. While walking back to the headmaster's office she realizes she's quite hungry. As soon as they arrive at the entrance with the gargoyles, her stomach starts to rumble.
"Lunch is being served in a few minutes. We'll go shortly after the sorting," Severus tells her, before uttering the password.
Upstairs, Dumbledore is waiting for them with an old hat placed in front of him, on his desk – the sorting hat, she now knows.
"Welcome back. Please, sit," he gestures, smilingly, towards the two empty chairs. Sasha sits down while Severus remains standing. Dumbledore gets up to place the tattered hat on her head. She casts her eyes down to the floor, listening to the hat's voice in her head: "Well, well, well, what have we got here? You are quite a bit older than the usual new students, aren't you? Let's see… You are quite intelligent, no doubt about that, brave too. You certainly know what you want. You do possess a dark side, don't you? Sly, ambitious, but, at times, chivalrous as well. We shall put you in… Slytherin!"
Dumbledore looks worried, Severus looks rather pleased, and Sasha is already thinking about how she could become acquainted with Potter and the others, in order to gain some information, to deceive the Dark Lord.
She removes the hat and places it back on the desk. She then looks at a pensive, frowning Dumbledore, "So, any idea on how to win Potter's trust, or should I simply follow my instincts?"
He looks up, "Just be civil when encountering Harry and his friends. I'll give you further directions, soon. For now you shouldn't let them know who you really are."
She nods.
"And here is your uniform," he adds, as he hands her the robes. She lays them on the desk and puts both hands on them. She quietly murmurs something indiscernible, and the clothes are swapped: those she was wearing are folded on the desk and she now wears the uniform. Neither of the wizards comment on the magic she used.
[To be continued]