Before the summer holiday, Dumbledore had entrusted a task to Evelyn. Locate the incorporeal spirit of Lord Voldemort. Standing in his office, under a gaze that made you desire his approval, she had to report that she had failed at this first and important charge.
"This is of dire importance," he stressed. "Are there any other means you haven't exhausted?"
"There is something else, but," staring at the floor, she desperately didn't want to disappoint him, "it's magic that I'm uncomfortable with."
"I understand," he said paternally, "your boundaries are your own."
He was going to let her go, but she was searching her mind for any other option. "I do know someone who might perform the spell for us."
Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow, "Oh? What materials would they require?"
He seemed to know more than he let on. Evelyn responded, "I'm not sure. I don't know much about the Unspeakable."
"In that case, I'd like you to bring Severus. I'll have him gather some likely elements for a locating spell."
Severus packed a large leather case containing anything he thought might be helpful. He was hoping that no part of himself would be needed, but he was prepared to do what was necessary.
Evelyn and Severus traveled to a steep conical tent covered in multicolored drapings. Severus felt something moist and rough agitating his ankles. He looked around for stray blades of grass or insects but didn't see anything.
"Mifi," Evelyn scolded, "It's not polite to lick strangers."
Severus felt her hand press against his heart as she placed an aromatic spring into his lapel pocket. Evelyn watched Mifi scuttle away in response. To her, Mifi looked black and transparent. Its head and body looked like a child's drawing of a dog, but the legs looked more like a spider's. It didn't move quite smoothly, almost like a film reel that had lost several slides.
Evelyn entered the tent first and called out, "Madam Sophia?"
A short woman emerged from an inner chamber. She wore a deep purple dress covered in a white shaw. Her dark hair was streaked with gray. "Evelyn, child," she started, but when Snape walked in, she froze.
Madam Sophia grabbed a few bottles, placing herbs around the room. She secretly sprinkled salt on a seat to the left while directing Evelyn to a seat on the right. Evelyn watched her and sensed her feelings. Sophia was afraid.
Evelyn and Severus sat down where they were directed, and Evelyn started to explain the reason for their visit. "We are trying to find someone who is incorporeal, or so we think, at the moment. Someone who doesn't want to be found."
"Who?" Madam Sophia appraised them.
While Evelyn was trying to work around using a name, Snape interjected, "We're looking for Lord Voldemort."
Madam Sophia wouldn't take her eyes off of Snape. Her lips formed a single word that she fired at Snape like a projectile, "Why?"
Evelyn answered, "We're asking for Albus Dumbledore."
There was a long pause. "One condition," Madam Sophia responded with her eyes still on Snape, "I write an owl directly to him."
Snape nodded an affirmative and Evelyn thanked her. Madam Sophia continued, "I need a hair from this person."
Snape rummaged through his leather bag and produced a glass tube. He twisted off a cork and removed a very old single strand of short dark hair.
Madam Sophia rested the hair on her palm. She closed her eyes and started to mutter incantations in a language Snape had never heard. The candles dimmed as Mifi perked up and skittered across the floor up to Madam Sophia's toe. Mifi bent its head and started climbing into Madam Sophia's body.
Snape couldn't see Mifi, but he saw Madam Sophia's head snap up and her eyes roll back revealing only whites. Still mumbling and entranced, started raising her hand. She brought her hand to her mouth and ingested Tom Riddle's hair. Her neck arched back. The mumbling got louder and louder, almost like an argument. It reached its crescendo and then abated.
Mifi crawled out of her body and over to a favorite rug where it lay down happily panting. The light returned and Madam Sophia's head came back to a neutral position as her eyes closed and then returned to normal.
She drew in a long breath and grabbed the armrest of her chair for support. "I know where he is," she informed them. "I will go write my owl."
For Snape, the tent felt hot, itchy, and unwelcoming. He glanced between the women and announced, "I'll wait outside."
When Madam Sophia sent off her owl, Evelyn thanked her, said a polite goodbye, and was turning to leave. Madam Sophia caught her wrist and looked her in the eye. "That man," she said, pointing emphatically at the tent entrance, "He is very powerful. Very dangerous." Sophia nodded. "You know that I know people. Bad people. And I tell you, they are afraid of him." She pointed again as though thrusting a dagger.
Evelyn glanced at the entrance and back. Her brow furrowed, looking puzzled and hurt. Madam Sophia's face softened. "You are a strong witch, Child," Sophia said, cupping Evelyn's face, "You be careful. You promise me, OK?"
Evelyn nodded. Madam Sophia dipped her thumb into scented oil to draw on Evelyn's forehead. They said goodbye, and Evelyn left the tent to rejoin Snape. She kept throwing glances at him with new eyes, trying to unravel the mystery of a man that walked next to her.
He had tried a few probing questions. What had they just witnessed? She seemed to find the practice distasteful and would only respond that she didn't like the idea of spirits entering her body.
That night, Snape lay in bed. Insomnia was an old friend, but his thoughts were new. He worried that Evelyn was acting so strangely after the ordeal with Madam Sophia. Had he done something wrong? Was he overthinking it? Why did he care so much? Would he see her tomorrow? He wondered if she ever laid in bed at night thinking about him.
He rested his head back on his pillow and tried to close his eyes. Tomorrow would be a long day.