Prologue – Spinner’s End, June 1960

Author's notes

An on-line translator was used to translate English into Welsh

Llygad y Ddraig - Eye of the Dragon

hello, neis i gyfarfod â chi - hello, nice to meet you

This is not intended as a cross-over fic. Some scenes, objects and places from Mary Stewart's Merlin Trilogy are used as plot points in this fic and will be properly cited when used. At no time do Ms Stewart's characters interact with Ms Rowling's characters. Familiarity with Ms Stewart's work is not at all necessary.

The passage that Toby reads is a summarised and re-worded scene from pages 19-20 of "The Crystal Cave" by Mary Stewart (1970), in which a six-year-old Merlin meets his uncle Camlach.

Canon characters are the property of J.K. Rowling, and I make no money from them. Many thanks to Justice for beta-works.

Eileen heard the crack of an Apparition and hurried downstairs, frightened and furious, but at the same time thankful that Toby was not at home. All emotions faded instantly to dumb shock as she looked upon her brother, who dropped to his hands and knees in front of the fireplace with a gasp of pain.

"Drusus, what happened?" Eileen ran to him and grasped his shoulders, pushing him up so she could look into his face.

"Cruciatus Curse. They know, Eileen, they know I have the Llygad y Ddraig."

"How?" she whispered, with a sense of creeping horror that the inevitable was unfolding.

"Betrayal from within our family; the traitors who practice the Dark Arts have finally succeeded. They are looking for me as we speak; I need to leave it with you. I will be the decoy and draw their attack. You must keep it hidden."

Eileen shook her head as the implications of her brother's news chilled her to the bone. "I can't."

Drusus grasped her hand. "You have to; it is a duty of our family. They will not look for you. There is no traceable evidence that you still exist, let alone where you are. Not even the Ministry knows. Eileen, if the Llygad is taken the dark will prevail without resistance; I curse the day our forbears ever got involved with their arts!" Drusus scowled at the fireplace and shuddered. "I don't have much time," he said, looking at her with tenderness.

He had been the only one who had not completely erased Eileen from memory, the only one who had not regarded her flight from an arranged marriage as an unforgivable insult. Indeed their patriarch would have killed her if Drusus had not smuggled her out of Wales and devised a means to keep her hidden.

While he was surprised at her marriage to Toby, whom she had met at a Muggle dance hall nearly two years ago, he unreservedly gave her his blessing. He approved of anything that helped maintain her cover. For Eileen, Drusus was the last link to her past, the last thread of her roots. She knew with a deep dread that he would soon be gone.

Drusus took something from inside his robes and lifted a silver chain from around his neck. He placed the object on the floor. At the end of the chain was a disc of pale blue multi-faceted crystal. Two silver dragons circled its edges, their tails linked at the bottom and their jaws grasping the chain.

"Eileen, you were always better than me with your charms. Make as precise a duplicate of this as you can. I will carry the copy; you take the original."

Eileen nodded tearfully. There was no escape from this. "And when they find your copy does not work?" she asked warily.

"It will be a long time before they attempt to use it. Things are not ready; they are still gathering their forces. There will be war, I know it. They will only attempt to use the Llygad when they have everything in place. The best we can hope for is the light will prevail before then, and we must help them to do just that." He watched his sister move quietly to the bookshelf and select a nondescript volume from the bottom shelf. Opening it, she produced her wand, knelt in front of Drusus with the object between them, and began the incantations.

The resulting copy was excellent. Drusus passed his hands over it, searching for any tell-tale flaws. Even the protective charms and wards were installed, giving the duplicate an aura of power that tingled in his fingertips. Without extensive diagnostics, the only way to tell the fake from the original would be when it failed in its task.

A muffled noise issued from an adjoining room, and Drusus was on his feet in a second with wand drawn. "It's alright," Eileen told him softly. She walked through the door and out of sight for a moment. Drusus held his breath as he heard her talking to someone, then felt his jaw drop open as she reappeared and approached him, carrying a child no more than six months old.

"You didn't tell me..." he began. He continued apologetically, "I guess you had no way to find me." His eyes brightened suddenly. "Well? What have we got? Boy or girl? Any magical abilities?"

"He's only six months old! It's way too early to tell if he'll be a wizard. For all our sakes I hope not. I hadn't planned on..." She shook herself and continued, "Severus Tobias Snape, meet your uncle, Drusus Ambrosius Prince."

Drusus took the infant from her and held him up for a moment. "Hello, neis i gyfarfod â chi." The raven-haired child stared at him, dark eyes rounded with curiosity. "He's definitely one of us," he chuckled, placing his nephew carefully on the hearth rug and disengaging a lock of his own raven hair from a surprisingly strong grip. "What do you think of these?" he asked, dangling the two objects above him. Severus reached out, eyes and hands trying to catch the tiny rainbows of dancing light refracted from the crystals.

"Drusus, stop it, he doesn't need to know this, any of it." Eileen was holding back tears with a heroic effort as she knelt beside him. Her brother placed an arm around her and pulled her close into a hug, keeping one hand free to entertain a fascinated Severus with the glittering counterfeit.

"It's his heritage, Eileen, as much as it is yours and mine. Our family did not always have a reputation of allegiance with the dark; perhaps one day we will be free of it – but that freedom will not be won through ignorance. The Llygad y Ddraig was with us generations before the road toward evil was taken. It is a miracle we who follow the light have kept it secret within our own family for so long." He looked at her with immeasurable grief in his eyes. "Until now." He shook his head before continuing. "Like it or not it is inseparable from our family until the day it is returned to the rightful owner, and you have not forgotten why that is, have you? Or to whom it belongs?"

"That story is a dream or a fairy tale: only a fool would believe there is any truth in it," Eileen snapped viciously.

"Dreams may reflect reality; fairy tales are often based on fact: both can be instructive."

Relenting, Eileen placed the Llygad around her neck, more for her brother's sake than any desire to carry it. She would find a safe place for it later so Toby would not ask any questions. Her brother engulfed her in a desperate hug. It was time for him to leave. "I love you, Eileen. Remember that always."

"Drusus, my brother and best friend, I never doubted it. I love you too. Don't forget me."

"Never." He picked Severus up and prodded him in the chest. "You, Severus, you look like a wizard to me, one of considerable power. Be brave and be careful, little falcon." He kissed them both and placed Severus in his mother's arms. When Eileen looked up through her tears, the space he had occupied was empty. They would never see him again.

Toby clattered through the front door, ditching his tool bag and work boots as he strode into the sitting room. The house was quiet, as it usually was, even after Severus was born. The boy rarely made a sound, and when he did he was far from raucous.

Toby was pleased to see the fire had been lit. Rain and fog had drifted in during the early evening and, though it was summer, things were a touch raw outside. A scrap of something smouldering to one side of the grate caught his eye, and he fished it out carefully. It was not paper, or fabric, or any substance he knew of. There was writing on it, smudged by soot and ash, in a flowing ornate script that reminded him of the signage used to attract tourists to stay at pubs. Frowning, he read what was left of the words.

My uncle called me to him, there in the room where I sat with my mother. He was tall and golden-haired, a warrior and a son of the King. I walked to him bravely even though my heart trembled. His blue eyes were fixed on me with an expression that was not unkind, so different from the suspicious glances that I was used to receiving. I heard my grandfather speak aloud, saying that a child such as I, black-haired and black-eyed, so different from the rest of the family in form and nature, was surely a bastard whelp of the Devil. I gave no heed to his words and did not pause until I stood before my uncle, who asked of me my name.

My uncle turned from me and spoke to my grandfather, saying that I bore an unusual name for one reputed to be the spawn of evil. He had sight of the truth when he mused that this supposed Devil was in fact a man: a Roman.

Toby's first reaction was to dismiss this as discarded rubbish, although he looked in the grate again to see if any other scraps were left. There were none. He was a little disappointed; it might have been a good read. He wondered if Eileen wrote it. While she never spoke of her family, she had mentioned once that her colouring was a strong family trait. Colouring like the boy in the remnant of a story. His son had his mother's hair and eyes. Was Severus the inspiration for this Myrddin lad? He snorted: things women do when they get fanciful! His eyes were drawn to one of the bricks lining the back of chimney; he could see the edges clean of soot. He would check it when the fire died down. Toby read the passage again before folding it carefully and tucking it into a hidden pocket on the inside of his belt. He did not even wonder why he did so.