Chapter 2

Sarah glanced up with a start at the sound of a snapping twig; to her relief, there was no-one there. Just a fox or a bird or something, she thought, trying to steady her breathing, and yet she’d had a sudden icy feeling of being watched. Shaking her head as if to clear her mind from such thoughts, she finished her ritual before opening the circle and extinguishing the flames.

She made it back to her cottage before nightfall. Bernard, her old tabby cat, mewed silently at her through the window as she made her way up the garden path. Her modest front garden was fairly ramshackle in appearance. Ivy grew untamed around the door, and a multitude of herbs and flowers fought for growing space in a chaotic yet pretty manner. On entering the hallway, Bernard, as usual, ran straight up to her, mewing and demanding a tickle behind the ears for a greeting. She stroked his head quickly before striding into the lounge and removing her dress in one fluid action and set about unpacking her bag; the night was not yet over, and she still had work to do.

***

Severus felt furious with himself as he Apparated with a smooth pop into his back yard. How could he be so careless? And what if the Muggle girl had seen him? Striding angrily into the house, he couldn’t believe how stupid he’d been. He’d been a spy for so long during the War, for Merlin’s sake, and there he was, as if Confunded by the sight of a naked Muggle girl, and had not even performed a basic invisibility spell for protection! What a damn fool.

He threw his cloak down with annoyance and, with a flick of his wand, summoned a glass of wine and sat in his favourite armchair. Poor deluded Muggle, he thought. She had looked deep in concentration, as if she genuinely believed that what she was doing was actually real! And yet it was difficult not to be interested in her methods and her tools, as watching her proved to be fascinating. Very little was known about Wicca in the wizarding world, after all. A smile crept to his lips as a thought began to take shape in his head. Maybe, just maybe, the Muggle might be worth studying. He could publish a paper, no, a book, on Muggle magic and its rituals. What better way to further distance himself from the incrimination of his Death Eater days than to display to the whole wizarding world some Dumbledore-esque tolerance in this post-War era? He thanked his Slytherin nature once again for the ability to turn the situation to his advantage. The fact the Muggle is a pretty young thing is merely coincidental, he thought with a grin. Hurriedly finishing his wine, he made haste straight away to Hogwarts library to research Wicca.

As he’d assumed, there weren’t many texts on the subject to be found easily. “In The Company Of Muggles” proved fruitless, as did “Ancient Magic: 4356 BC to the Middle Ages”. The most comprehensive piece he’d found so far was in “A History Of Magic”, which had a whole chapter devoted to Muggle-magic and touched on the medieval witch hunts and also briefly mentioned the eight festivals. Midsummer, of course, he thought. The celebration of the solstice.

But what of the specific spells and rituals? What of the meanings of these festivals? With a snort he threw down the umpteenth book on the table, loud enough for Madam Pince’s eyes to flick up from her desk momentarily. They returned with haste; she knew better than to directly disturb Professor Snape when he was working.

Well, there was only one way to find out more. He would go to the woods and watch her perform her next ritual. He flicked back to “A History Of Magic” and saw that the next sabbat, called Lughnasadh, was seven weeks away. With a chill, he realised Lughnasadh fell on July 31st, which happened to be the birthday of none other than the Boy Who Lived: Harry Potter.