Revelations

Disclaimer: Severus Snape is the intellectual property of J K Rowling. Hazel is the intellectual property of me.

Enormous thanks to Tarah_Fae for her help and encouragement in the development of this story.

Some hours had passed since Snape’s arrival, the sun casting longer shadows across the clearing. It was apparent that his crossing of the stream that morning had brought the wizards together. As Hazel had said, “That must be the nexus,” at which Arenoth had covered his ears with his wings for some unaccountable reason, “between the worlds, a weak spot in the conti…” she glanced at her familiar who shook his head, “the fabric of reality – so much magic in one place must have caused it to fail.”

Snape was confident of his safe return, having no desire to remain in Hazel’s world. In his, racial characteristics were limited to skin colour and minor facial characteristics – here, they took the form of intermediates between human and animal. Snape now understood why Hazel had been as surprised at his appearance as he had been at hers; he had been astounded when Hazel had said, smiling - "My mother was an antelope, and my father a wolf. I don't know where I got the horns - my grandmother, or the milkman," just as he would have said if asked about his nose. Humans were mythical creatures, dwelling off the edges of the maps – the legends described them as fat, filthy, bestial creatures, always naked, never washing, barely able to talk, emerging from their caves and trees only to rape, kill and eat unfortunate explorers who ventured into their forbidden territory.

Apart from the likelihood of his spending the rest of his days in a circus freak show, Snape also couldn’t face a wizarding life hawking his skills to Muggles (Hazel had started to laugh when he first used the word, but his glare had silenced her) who only wished to further their desires for love, money, and secrets. This was how Hazel lived; an itinerant apothecary and fortune-teller, setting up her booth in the dark alleys of the cities or, like today, deep in the woods, waiting for her “clients” to surreptitiously make their devious ways to it; she noted with a sigh, “So many ‘witches’ neglect their powers, or have none; they sell only their drugs and their bodies – but, things have always been so. To have a community, a respectable society, where you hold conferences – that, I cannot believe. All that magic together, and organized; have you never sought temporal power? To rule, rather than to hide?”

Snape shuddered, his fingers involuntarily moving to that spot on his left arm. “Some have. But – we… they failed. It is no longer spoken of, and, Deo volente, never will be again.”

Arenoth shook his head sadly, but neither wizard noticed him. He held up another cup of tea for Snape, who had sighed and almost allowed his fingers to pet the harekki’s ears, such was the intensity of his emotion.

Their conversation had moved into the tent as the afternoon drew on, where Snape had obtained some fruiting bodies of the fungus that had first aroused his interest, and had exchanged some mutually-interesting advice on potion brewing with Hazel – her technique for the preparation of aconite-based potions, in particular, was noted with special diligence, and had spent some time surveying her magical equipment.

Her tent’s enchantment was familiar to him; although only four or five feet across externally, inside it opened out into a reasonably large space, fitted out like any wizard’s chamber. Bunches of herbs, crystals, and mysterious talismans hung from the ceiling, a large oak table with legs carved into eldritch – Arenoth, who was apparently asleep on the table, opened one eye and fixed its reptilian pupil directly into Snape’s face – grotesque figures, stood in the centre of the space, carrying on it a crystal ball, Divination cards arranged in a neat and doubtless symbolic pattern, and the skull of some unfortunate horned creature. Some books – a very small collection by his standards, but still an adequate library – sat on the shelves which lined the walls, but most of the space was filled with a bewildering array of bottles, phials and boxes, containing the main stock of Hazel’s trade.

One thing intrigued him; a complicated construction of highly-polished leather straps with embedded studs, linked together by brass rings and buckles. He held it up, frowning curiously. “Hazel – what is this used for?”

Hazel took the apparatus from him, giving one of the rings a casual buff with her sleeve. “This is my harness. It enhances and directs the energy flow for the sexual rituals; and, of course, the clients find it very impressive.” She winked at him. “I don’t suppose you need one.”

Snape’s eyebrows shot up to the middle of his forehead. “Sexual rituals! What on earth are those?”

It was Hazel’s turn to be shocked. “Do you mean to say that your craft doesn’t employ the most powerful force in nature? That such a man as you are has never used his gifts? This is something else I need to teach you.”

AN: "Harekki" is Ursula K LeGuin's name for the sort of creature Arenoth is, although players of AD&D may prefer the term "pseudo-dragon".