Book lungs
"My old bones won't allow me to sit on a cold stone floor anymore," Philomena chuckled. "Would you mind bringing over some pillows so I can have a chat with Morag?"
Poppy complied, and the elderly witch sat on the floor next to the russet spider.
"I am pretty certain you can learn to control this transformation, dear girl. I also think this should come from yourself and your own magic, not someone else's spell or a potion – no offence, dear Severus," she added.
"None taken," he replied soberly. "I am willing to listen to any suggestion."
He noted that she did not recoil from Morag's spider form but talked to her as if everything were perfectly normal. Thus, she avoided dehumanizing Morag, which would have made matters worse, and Severus felt grateful for it. Undoubtedly, the ancestral reverence for Anansi influenced Philomena's attitude.
"Now, I am not an expert in human transfiguration, mind. But I gather that she was overwhelmed with emotion the second and third time she transformed. Therefore, I think those strong feelings were a trigger."
She paused and smiled, a faraway look on her face.
"When Melanie Deane came to live with me, she suffered from intense panic attacks. She felt completely crushed by guilt. Her breathing would become erratic, and she would shake all over. No matter how hard she tried, she could not calm herself down. I used a simple charm to help her regain control, which might also help Morag."
Turning to Morag again, she drew out her wand and muttered a spell. A bubble of dark blue light, about the size of a marble, emerged from the wand's tip and floated in front of them.
"Now, dear girl," she addressed Morag, "I would like you to watch this bubble."
The elderly witch slowly raised her left hand into the air, palm down, while holding the bubble in her upturned right hand. The bubble slowly rose until it bumped lightly on her left palm, then sank to her right palm again.
"Inhale as the bubble goes up, and exhale as it goes down. Think of nothing else but your breathing and your heart."
Whether or not Morag understood what Philomena required of her, she seemed to focus intently on the bubble as it moved slowly up and down. A faint, regular hiss followed its movement. Long minutes passed, and Severus, whose hand was still resting on the spider's back, thought he felt her relax gradually.
"Next time you breathe in, I would like you to visualize your lungs. They're spider lungs, stacks of thin air pockets separated by tissue, like the pages of a book. Imagine them filling with air."
Philomena's voice was warm, rich and soothing. Severus could feel the tension leaving his own body, too.
"Now, think of your heart. It is a simple long tube in your abdomen, but it beats just the same. Feel its beat. Lean into it."
The bubble continued its slow, steady dance.
"This is your body, Morag. You can control what happens to it," the soothing voice continued. "Think of your lungs as you inhale again. Imagine the air pockets growing larger, slowly fusing into two large sacks. Imagine your heart curling up into a rounder shape and dividing into four chambers. Imagine all this happening slowly as you keep breathing."
Under his hand, Severus felt a slight tremor. After what seemed like an eternity, Morag's hiss gave way to a steady breathing.
"Whenever you feel ready, the rest of your body can follow your heart and lung's lead, Morag," Philomena's low voice continued.
Suddenly, a great shudder shook the spider, and within a few minutes, she had regained her human body. She leaned into Severus, who covered her with his cloak and held her close.
"Thank you, Philomena," Severus whispered.
The elderly witch cupped the bubble into her hands, and it disappeared.
"I can teach you the spell," she said. "It's an effortless charm and could help you with your emotions, too. Use it when she is in spider form to help her calm herself."
Severus acquiesced. Philomena had made it seem so simple, so wholesome. He turned to Morag. "Shall I bring you back to bed?"
She nodded, and he scooped her up in his arms.
"I suggest we let them rest now", Philomena said to Minerva and Poppy. "This has been taxing for both of them."
The three witches left the room, and Severus lay beside Morag. She curled up against him, a forlorn look on her face. She had picked up the fetus and cradled it. Words seemed so inadequate that he remained silent. They lay still for a long while.
"I already loved her, Severus," she finally said. "I wunnered whether she'd have yer hair or mine… what her voice would sound like. I imagined hou we'd run in the moors together an' hou I'd teach her aboot the flowers an' herbs…" Her voice broke.
Tears trickled down her face.
"I feel like ma heart's bin crushed."
"Mine too," he simply said, kissing her brow. She closed her eyes and let him hug her.
"I would like tae bury her by the river," she finally whispered.
Severus rose quietly from the bed. He waved his wand and conjured a small pine box lined with soft white silk. "May I?" he asked, brushing his hand on the tiny form in her arms. She nodded and handed it to him. As he placed it in the box, they both broke down in tears.
"We don't have to do this straight away. I can put the body in stasis…" His voice trailed off.
"Nae, Severus. She would be happier oot of those heavy walls. And so will I. Take me home, please. "
He called Poppy, and the matron rushed to her charge's side, a look of concern on her face.
"How are you feeling, my dear?"
"She would like to go home," Severus explained.
The matron hesitated, her brow creased in worry.
"To be quite honest, Severus, I would rather keep her here for a few days to keep an eye on her. She has been through a lot, both physically and emotionally. She shouldn't be left all alone."
"I will take care of her," he promised. "She will be happier in her own home. In our home," he added, squeezing the young healer's hand.
"But you'll have to return to the castle to teach, won't you?" Poppy enquired. "Morag, dear girl, will you let me visit you daily, just as you would your own patients?"
The younger witch smiled through her tears.
"Of course, Poppy. Thank ye for yer kindness and care."
The morning rain had eased off, and the sun emerged timidly behind heavy grey clouds. Snow had already started covering the highest peaks around the Orrin valley. The cold had withered most wild plants, which now billowed in the wind like a pale sea. Here and there, banks of purple heather brightened up the severe landscape.
Morag, Severus, Minerva, Poppy and Hermione stood on the bank of the river, a small pine box by their feet. Morag wanted to dig the hole herself, but Severus refused point blank.
"You are still weak and in shock, Morag. You cannot do anything so strenuous. I can use magic."
She stepped back and stared at him.
"Ye wilnae use magic, Severus Snape. If I cannae bury oor bairn with ma ain hands, ye will."
The wizard brushed the tears off her face, nodded, and conjured a shovel. Once their child was finally laid to rest, Morag stepped forward and chanted a spell. A small green shoot emerged from the freshly dug earth, growing into a thick gorse bush.
Beyond the glittering peaks, the clouds had dispersed, revealing a carmine sunset.
Glossary:
Wunner - wonder