La Force & L'Etoile

This fic would not be the same without the help of Scatteredlogic and Not So Saintly.

To Geminiscorp.

__________________________________________________

Severus Snape's Pensieve reminiscence from the Unspeakable Department unclassified archives:

He had only a few happy memories at Spinner's End, most of them linked to his "Ya Ya" Anna, his paternal grandmother. She had lived with them, the queen of their home. He must have been four or five when she died; both of them had fallen ill with pneumonia, and there had not been enough money for medicine.

He could remember little of her, but he treasured those memories with care: the smell of strong cigars and the softness of her flowery apron; the way she hid him inside her long skirts when father was mad at him; the reverent way she read the tarot cards. She had an old and ragged set of cards and consulted it frequently; he was not allowed to touch them. Once she was finished, she would put them away in her chest of drawers.

Severus once had dared to pick them up while no one was watching. The weak autumn sun played upon the walls and the ceiling of his grandma's rooms; the tremulous leaves of a tree were bright and whispered with the evening breeze. He thought about a magical kaleidoscope his parents gave him on his birthday. He needed to climb the chest of drawers and pull hard to open it. The cards were there, and Severus thought they glowed under the sun.

He spread the cards out on the rug. Imitating the ways of Ya Ya, he picked two and watched them intently. One had a young woman with a weird hat and what he thought were uncomfortable clothes. A lion was next to her; she was caressing it, her hands in its mouth. He wondered then why would someone do something so stupid? Still, he admired her. You must be brave in order to have a lion friend. The other card had a naked woman on it. He liked her; she was awake at night, something adults never allowed him to do. Big stars covered the sky while she knelt in front of a river. She was doing a silly thing, he thought, just like the other lady: she was feeding the river with blue and yellow water. Why would a river need water? The woman had a moon in her head, so she might be related to the stars above.

Then Ya Ya had come; it was proof of how strange adults were that she did not punish him for trespassing. Instead, she looked intently at both cards and kissed him.

Later, he wondered how he had come to obtain those two cards: La Force and La Toile. He doubted his parents had given them to him, and he was certain he had them after Ya Ya's death.

Ya Ya's death: a turning point in his childhood. He remembered it so vividly:

Everything was dark except the corner with the deadly lamp. He was faking sleep; he enjoyed the feeling of power that the simulation gave him, and he had slept for days, maybe weeks. He felt as if he were flying slightly, as if the fever had made him lighter than air. Next to the lamp, he could hear murmurs. The words 'pneumonia' and 'funeral service' floated to his ears. Even if they were meaningless to him, by the way they were pronounced, he understood that they implied a lethal threat, they were part of the adult world, and he felt vaguely important. "The kid is seriously ill... He needs to rest... He is frail." He felt the absence of his grandma; he missed her cold hands on his forehead and the soothing words that made him feel safe. Far from where he was, someone closed a door, and then he fell asleep again for an eternity.

Was he awake? Deep in the night he heard his mum quietly weeping, from so far away that maybe it was a dream. It was a sobbing that seemed to come from Hades. Everything was dark, and he was alone. He recognized that voice, and no, it wasn't a dream. The voice was too high and the shadows too deep to be a real dream, and again he fell asleep. He slept more than he could imagine. At his bedside table, Ya Ya had forgotten two of her cards. He hid them between his pillows, enjoying Ya Ya's smell on them.

There were murmurs again, next to the door in the corner. The room was chilly and the air seemed sharp. It was early in the morning, and the sun projected a golden resplendence on the wall above his head. His father's face was gray, and then the words suddenly became comprehensible. The doctor let his sentence drop with the full force of his professional potency. It was almost as if he was delighted to say it: "I'm sad to tell you this, Mr. Snape, but as it was with your mother, your child's situation is very extreme. He'll soon follow her; there is no possibility of him recovering." He saw his father's head fall in helplessness and the doctor's hand on his shoulder. "You must accept things as they are; all is in the goddess' hands."

At least it's not in your hands, you foolish man. He hated that doctor because he made his mum cry and kept his granny away. He also, and this was unforgivable, made his father suffer. His father was invincible, omniscient. He was the light and the darkness in Severus's life. He adored and feared his father beyond measure. Father was a force capable of the most intimate concern and despotic fury. He would not fail to heal his son. Severus wanted nothing to do with doctors, gray faces, suffering and funerals. Once again, he let himself be drawn effortlessly into the profound deadness of unconsciousness.

Over the years he had developed the habit of carrying those two cards in his pocket, and he subconsciously caressed them with his thumb when in trouble. During his childhood he started inventing a background story for each of them: a name, desires, feelings and attitudes. Most nights, he fell asleep while creating imaginary worlds in which he shared adventures with his two ladies and the lion; mostly, they protected him from faceless monsters and other dangers.

Once at Hogwarts he had learned to despise Divination and, with it, tarot as a Muggle attempt at witchcraft. He felt slightly guilty for the allure those two cards had over him. Around his fourth year, he had taken up the habit of visiting old London bookstores, looking for used and out-of-print tarot cards. He couldn't buy them most of the time, but he enjoyed observing the arcana and comparing his old ladies with the ones in the stores. As soon as he started earning his own money, he started collecting them. He had come to meet lots of antique dealers and clerks of fine books. All of them would faint in horror had they known that seventy-six arcana were thrown away, while only La Force and L'Etoile would be treasured with care. Even if he had come to own rare and valuable pieces of art through these decks of cards, his grandmother's cards were always the dearest ones. All through his life, those two cards remained in his pocket. Severus knew them so well that he could see every detail with his eyes closed. When he reached adulthood, he could see that by smiling so fondly at him that day, Ya Ya had planted two main spotlights in Severus heart: one, the knowledge that no matter how bad things looked, he had La Force to face it, and second, even if it was painful, the hope of a nurturing and brighter life.

He had outgrown the Divination shit; in order to discover its deeper symbolism, through colors, gestures and figures, the ancient Marseille version, the one Ya Ya had bequeathed him, had come to encompass deep archetypal symbols of his ache for Strength and Hope, guiding him through the painful years of both wars, saving him from the Dark Lord's clutches ... even bringing him back from the edge of death. He couldn't explain it rationally, but after being left by the Potter brat in the Shrieking Shack, both ladies had come to him. Covering the ceiling with stars, L'Etoile had fed him with her water and enlightened him with moon rays; La Force had laid him over the lion and forced him to look past the present situation. Not knowing how much time had passed, he awoke during the night and had walked unharmed out of Hogsmeade and into the unknown.

Over the years, he had come to live on a small Greek Island, his "Ya Ya" Anna's land, and became a book clerk himself. Life had been peaceful, finding respect and friendship among the villagers, with just a few anti-wizard wards in case someone bothered to approach him. He had come to relax and love the life La Force had shown him. Comfortable, not fulfilled, would whisper La Toile now and then.

So when Granger had appeared, like a ghost from the past, he didn't recognize her. Not at first. All he could see was La Toile addressing him. Not a blond, but a brunette one; at that moment he couldn't even focus on details. Just her sad expression: a thin and tired, yet strong face, black circles below her eyes, surrounded by wrinkles. A fertile soil, he felt a strong desire to rest his head on hers.

He vanished wordlessly.

____________________________________

Authors note:

Go and look at the Camoin's ancient marseille L'Etoile and La Force here:

http://es.camoin.com/tarot/Vista-del-Diagrama-Camoin-3-x-7.html