Converging Paths – part 2

A/N's

"Purring Therapy" – The healing properties of feline purring have been explored since the 1970s, so I am not sure which reference Severus has read. For interested readers, a good place to start exploring is: Why do Cats Purr? Leslie A. Lyons, School of Veterinary Medicine, The University of California, Davis. April 2006. Scientific American (on–line).

The "boy and the mirror" scene is adapted from pages 55–56 of The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart (1970), where Merlin examines his reflection in Galapas' cave.

Pugsley Addams is the property of the cartoonist Charles Addams. I make no profit from his character.

Canon characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from them.

Many thanks to TeaOli for beta-works – and some more chances to use my favourite piece of punctuation!

Toby folded his arms and scowled as Oriens explained the perils of magical objects and the reasons he had been "abducted" and brought to the high-security section of what sounded like a major hospital. At least the walls ain't padded, he thought. "Got a good reason why I should believe you – why I should even think about trustin' you?"

Oriens patiently listed some significant reasons. "You are not dead, you are not physically or mentally restrained, you have not been tortured, you have not been questioned under duress, you still have your source of magic – no-one here has touched it or asked to look at it, and you have received a concise explanation as to why you are here."

Toby only narrowed his eyes and looked away with a shudder. "I was warned someone – one of your kind – would come lookin' for it."

Oriens sensed that Toby had witnessed something deeply disturbing – and whatever he had seen still held him in thrall. "We are not all barbarians," Oriens said gently.

The effect was immediate: Toby's eyes flashed with a mixture of anger, rebellion, and gut-clenching fear. "That's not what I seen." He spat the words out as though they were poison. "You seriously expect me to believe you when you say you only want to put the thing into safekeepin'? That you're concerned about my wellbein'? Bullshit! You 'aven't even mentioned the one who's really after the damn thing!"

"By 'the one', I assume you mean your son?" It was a shot in the dark, but it struck home. Toby flinched as a wave of anguish momentarily smothered his pugnacity.

"Logic'ly, I s'pose," he mumbled distractedly.

Oriens mentally summarised his assumptions. There was a serious rift between Tobias and Severus. Tobias had seen something which terrified him completely. Whatever he had seen involved Death Eaters and, very probably, the object he now carried. The man had been told, by Eileen presumably, that Dark wizards would come for whatever-it-was should they learn of its existence. He had also been told that his son was numbered among the Death Eaters and would have some reason to lay claim to it.

Putting a myriad of questions aside, Oriens decided he could at least do something to assuage Toby's fears concerning Severus' allegiance. "Your son did take service under a Dark wizard of particularly evil intentions. I'm guessing you knew of this?" He watched as Toby nodded and shivered. "Severus changed his loyalties, but he could not desert the ranks of the Dark completely.

"To do so would have meant a shortened life and a very prolonged death. He became a spy for the Light. Without the information he gained, the war could not have been won. Without him, the Dark would have prevailed and our world – and ultimately yours – would have fallen under a regime of bloodshed, slavery and unrelenting fear."

"War?" Toby embodied the definition of incredulity.

Oriens nodded soberly. "I think the best way to inform you is for you to read the reports for yourself. Have you seen Wizarding photographs before?"

Toby shook his head, and then shrugged.

"Be prepared for the fact that they move. They cannot hurt you; they simply record a few moments in time and play it over and over again. I shall bring you some reading material, and you can make your own assessments of what has occurred in our world."

Toby rested his elbows on his knees and examined his hands. "Is... is Sev'rus... You said there was a war. Is 'e still alive?"

"He is, though some would claim his survival defies universal odds. The last time anyone saw him before the end of the Battle of Hogwarts – which you will read about – he was assumed dead.

"Aurors – our equivalent of what you would call the tactical response division of a police force – went to find him once the fighting had ended. After a small detour leading to the unexpected apprehension of a rogue giant, the Aurors came back to where he was last seen and found no trace of him. He vanished completely for several months, then showed up alive and well. Our Minister for Magic – a position ranking on a level with the British Prime Minister – has since recruited him into a role of considerable responsibility and trust."

Toby rubbed his eyes. "I see. Well, I don't, really. Dunno what to think."

"I'll bring you the reading material. Take your time over it. Do you understand why you must stay on these premises?"

Toby sighed. "Yeah, sort of. I reckon I'll take your word for it. Can't do much else, eh? Is there such a thing as tea in this place?"

"There certainly is! Without it, everything would come to a grinding halt. Tea shall be arranged," Oriens said encouragingly as he left the room. He decided he would bring it himself. It was not yet time to introduce Tobias to house-elves.

The guard Aurors leapt into action as St Mungo's wards began to tingle, then crackle with fierce energy. Following drills practised until they were as natural as breathing, they quickly located the source of the disturbance and surrounded the main gates.

There was no need for subjugation. The ragged, raw-eyed wizard scrabbling at the wards threw down his wand as soon as he saw them. He clasped his hands in a wailing, gibbering plea for mercy, claiming he had not slept for weeks.

Moments later, the Aurors escorted what looked like an Inferius into the Emergency room. Astonished Healers hurried to assist as the staggering, cadaverous shell of Antonin Dolohov collapsed in a convulsive faint.

As night fell, two Dementors emerged from a demolition site. Side by side, they approached the gates wherein their prey had found refuge. One of them raised a gaunt hand and pointed. It could still sense its objective behind walls through which it could not pass. The Dementors parted, each following a circuit around St Mungo's, pausing every now and then to test the completeness and strength of the wards.

Severus frowned as he followed his internal auto-pilot along familiar routes through the castle. After spending the evening consoling Hermione as best he could, he was half-tempted to pay her parents a visit and give them a very graphic description of what they could have been faced with, had Hermione not effectively removed them from the scene. Of course, he would not. Minerva had already tried the same tactic, albeit in a far more diplomatic manner than he was inclined to display.

Besides, if her parents ever did re-establish Hermione's place in their lives, it would be important not to upset them. He would have to tell them... His mouth went dry at the thought. How hard would it be to look them in the eyes and say he loved their daughter? Not to mention answering the inevitable questions about his intentions – and himself. Severus felt even more out of his depth when he considered that, by the time such a confession was due, he and Hermione could well be lovers. The thought pulled him up suddenly, half in the shifting shadows thrown against the wall by a single flaming sconce.

Unexpectedly, a mammalian snuffle on a vast scale echoed from the darkened depths of the corridor. Severus watched as a massive shadow loomed and took shape in its own sweet time. "Good evening, Pugsley." Severus greeted his peer as a respected equal, Animagus form or not. "I assume you find the corridors to your liking?"

Pugsley lifted his muzzle and made a show of catching scents in the air, an expression of bliss in his small eyes. Although Severus could not understand Ursine, Pugsley's anthropomorphic body language was easy to read. Pugsley raised a front paw and examined his meat-hook claws before modestly polishing them against the heavy fur of his chest.

"Let me guess: you have found something important in the quest to preserve the Flumes' business from juvenile pillaging?"

Pugsley stood on his hind legs and gave as graceful a bow as a bear could manage, finishing with a grumbling harrumph that nearly extinguished the sconce.

"I admire your efficiency," Severus mused out loud. "The students arrive tomorrow, and yet you are already on their trail."

Pugsley eyed Severus artfully. He touched his nose to the floor with his lips drawn back, breathing noisily. He half-reared, closed one eye, and lowered his head, giving himself a hunch-backed appearance.

"The One-eyed Witch?"

Pugsley gave a long, low growl as he stared into the darkness. He snuffled again and licked his lips.

"The One-eyed Witch conceals a secret passage to Honeydukes? Through the aftermath of destruction, reconstruction, and everything in between, you could pick up enough of a trail to lead you to a secret passage?" Severus was impressed. No wonder Pugsley Addams held the world record for correctly identifying potion ingredients by scent alone. He hid a smirk; the students were in for more than a few surprises.

Pugsley signalled his intention to continue his preparatory prowling, then looked Severus in the eyes with a jerk of his head and a questioning rumble.

Feeling pleased at the offer in spite of his usual tendency to seek solitude when perturbed, Severus accepted, adjusting his stride to match the bear's leisurely amble.

The disparate pair paused every now and then while Severus pointed out short cuts, vantage points, students' bolt holes, and places where the castle was prone to rearranging itself unexpectedly. At length, they arrived at the Astronomy Tower, where Severus took his leave and ascended to the top.

With Hermione ensconced in her room in the Gryffindor tower and hopefully sleeping, Severus intended to process Gawain's message alone. He took a moment to look around the scene of one of his darkest hours. It had not been not a conscious decision to come here; he had simply found himself gravitating towards it. Perhaps it was a fitting place to examine another dark facet of his existence, one he knew he had to face and was not sure how to handle.

He found a spot illuminated by moonlight. He was not inclined to use magic at all up here, not even Lumos. Severus took Gawain's message out of his pocket. Without reading it again, he considered its contents: Tobias Snape was currently held in St Mungo's. He was unharmed, in good health, and had not behaved aggressively towards anyone. He had not surrendered the magical object, nor had he volunteered any information concerning it. There were sound reasons to suspect Eileen Snape had originally owned the source of magic which Tobias carried – making Severus' involvement inextricable. The matter had been referred to a Ministerial level. Complete confidentiality was expected.

A confrontation, as Severus considered it, would take place in forty-eight hours. He leaned against a wall, trying to make sense of a sudden upwelling of emotion. Too late, he tried to restrain it. Inexorably, it gathered momentum and took form...

He was six years old, and something was very wrong. He had never seen his father behave like this: shouting and threatening, unsteady on his feet. His voice was strange. Had he forgotten how to talk properly? His mother was crying, but shouting back.

Severus covered his ears. Stop it! What are you doing? Please, just stop! He could not understand it, or why it hurt so much. Too confused to cry, he watched as his father stormed out of the door. Spurred into action by a sudden sense of loss, Severus ran out after him. "Da'! Where're you going? Da', wait for me!" Severus stood for a moment on the wet road. Disbelief washed over him as his father kept walking with that curious, unsteady motion.

Concluding that his father had not heard him, Severus broke into a run. "Da', what's wrong?" He caught up and reached out, catching hold of his father's sleeve. His father turned on him like a whirlwind.

"Git 'ome!"

Wide-eyed, Severus let go and took a step back. "But, Da', I..."

"I said, git 'ome. Give yeh a taste of t'belt. Now, git! Piss orf!"

Completely stunned, Severus tried again by catching his father's hand. It was a mistake. Severus barely felt the swift backhanded blow that knocked him to the ground – not until the suddenly numb side of his face began to tingle, then to throb. Scrambling to his feet, he took one more look at his father, who advanced on him with a raised hand, and fled.

He reached the front door and tripped over the threshold, landing in a sobbing, breathless heap on the floor. His chest hurt and his throat burned. It was hard to breathe and he felt sick. Taking fright at the thought he might be dying, Severus got up and called for his mother, but the words came out in a barely audible, strangled whisper. He stumbled through the house and found her in the kitchen, seated at the table, her hands pressed hard to her eyes.

"Mum?" His mother did not move. Severus tugged at her wrists. "Mum? Please... Tell me what it is. What's happened?" Still she did not move.

Assuming she was ashamed to be seen crying, as Severus himself usually was – especially when he had a runny nose – he went in search of a handkerchief. Finding none, he seized a flannel from the bathroom which, to his mind, would serve the same purpose. When he returned to the kitchen, his mother was not there. The prickling heat of fear gave way to the cold of desolation as he searched the house for her. His parents' bedroom door was closed. Perhaps she was in there. He knocked and called, with no response. Cautiously trying the door handle, he found it was locked. It could only be locked from the inside. She was in there. For some reason, she would not answer.

What did I do? Why do they hate me? Severus was too young to reason otherwise, and too young to know he was in shock. He only knew he sat in front of the door until it was completely dark. Then, shivering so violently he could barely coordinate his limbs, he crawled into his own room and curled up in bed. While outwardly he did not make a sound, inwardly he could not stop crying...

A velvet paw gently touched his hand. With a ragged gasp, Severus broke free of the recollections which marked the beginning of a soul-numbing limbo. He had slid down the wall and was sitting on the cold stone floor, one knee drawn up to his chest. Wiping his eyes, he looked down to see Crookshanks watching him gravely.

Severus hesitated for a moment, then reached out and stroked the animal's warm fur. His eyes began to sting as an aching emptiness rose from the fretful loneliness of his childhood. Before he met Lily, he had tried to make friends with the stray cats haunting the boarded-up mill. Wary of any human, they would only look at him with round, startled eyes and slink away with their bellies close to the ground. He had thought that if he had food to offer, they may have come closer, but Severus had no food to spare. As it was, his stomach was constantly trying to gnaw its way through his backbone.

Once, on one of his wanderings between Muggle school and the place he could not bring himself to call home, he had stroked a cat sunning itself on a doorstep – until the owner came out and scooped her pet away, muttering nasty things about "that mucky Snape lad".

There were a few dogs shadowing the streets around Spinner's End. After only one attempted approach, Severus realised that the roaming packs of street dogs would befriend no-one. They were mangy, vicious curs, seemingly all ribs and teeth, and would growl and bristle at people until somebody threw something at them. Severus later learned they were used to fight other dogs in brutal, bloody competitions for money or alcohol.

Many years later, Severus and Lucius had come across one such arena. Severus had muttered something about giving the degenerates a dose of their own potion. Lucius picked up on the concept immediately, deciding it would be fun to pit feral Muggles against Acromantulas for the next Dark Revel's entertainment. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but Severus had felt ill for days afterwards.

He shuddered at the memory and wondered how Crookshanks could stand to be around him. Yet the half-Kneazle seemed content enough. "I intend no harm to your mistress; I suspect you know that already."

Crookshanks gave him a slow-blink and curled the tip of his tail.

"Therefore, I shall endeavour to stay on your good side," Severus affirmed, recalling Ronald Weasley's voluble complaints at being hissed at and scratched. It occurred to him that he and Crookshanks shared some unlikely common ground. "A half-blood and a half-Kneazle," Severus pointed out with a half-smile. "Perhaps we can come to an understanding?"

As if in answer, Crookshanks climbed onto Severus' lap and began to purr in earnest, then arranged himself so that his body pressed against Severus' chest with his head next to the scars left by Nagini.

Obliged to hold the furry mass in place like a baby, Severus concentrated on Crookshanks' rumbling purr, finding it soothed both body and mind. "You know," he said quietly, stroking the living hot water bottle, "I read a research journal describing how cats use purring to accelerate healing when they are injured or sick. Is the same true for Kneazles? The researchers did not say if the effect was transferable between bodies. I begin to think it is."

Crookshanks added a low croon to his purr.

"Perhaps the ancient Egyptians had another reason to venerate the cat, aside from keeping rats out of the granaries." Severus allowed his mind to explore the possibilities of "purring therapy", contentedly drifting from one idea to the next without really taking any of them seriously. He was still thinking of potential applications as he persuaded the Fat Lady to allow Crookshanks to return to his mistress. He had no doubt that Hermione would receive the same "treatment".

"You put him up to it, didn't you?" Hermione placed an armload of books and her Potions kit on Severus' desk.

"Put whom up to what?" Severus asked innocuously.

"Professor Addams. Look at my literature review and practical research topic." Hermione waved a sheet of parchment in the air. "You know, don't you?"

"Accio Hermione's assigned literature review and practical research topic." He caught it deftly and examined the assignment with a calculating smirk. "Variation in the physical effects of Polyjuice Potion with the use of heterospecific hair samples." He handed the parchment back. "Interesting." He leaned back in his chair and stared speculatively at the ceiling. "It could lead to an alternative hypothesis on partial shape-shifting – and perhaps even false Animagi."

He blinked and frowned. "I know, do I? I know a great many things, Hermione, but you can hardly expect me to expound my knowledge if you have not specifically identified the subject."

"Hmph. If you really don't know, I am quite happy to keep it that way."

"Ah, but your assigned topic seems to have struck a nerve, and you are not about to reveal the reason why. Now, what can I read into that observation? An unintended outcome? Perhaps a trifle embarrassing? Involving Polyjuice Potion? Of course, it would not have involved accessing the Potions store without permission."

His silky composure was abruptly shattered as Hermione leapt on him and wrestled him out of his chair. Grappling for an advantage, Severus used his size and strength to move behind Hermione and pin her arms to her sides. "Really, this is most unseemly," he purred, roguishly kissing her cheek as she struggled once more and gave up, laughing breathlessly. He moved in front of her and held her at arms length. "Do you have to wear that thing?" he complained, indicating her school uniform.

"I suppose not," Hermione admitted, "but it doesn't feel right attending classes without it."

Severus took his time looking her over. "I am surprised you do not find it irksome. It appears to be... a size too small... in places."

"Are you saying I'm fat?" Hermione teased, intuitively sensing the real nature of the issue.

Severus' colour, already a healthy glow from the exertions of wrestling, deepened another shade. "No, not at all. It's just..." he searched frantically for words. "That uniform was made for a girl, not a woman. Witch. Lady."

Hermione watched him impassively until he very nearly squirmed, then smiled and produced her wand. She transfigured the girlish attire into a flowing robe of deep green, with a golden lion embroidered over her heart. "Is that bet..."

She did not get to finish her question as Severus roughly pulled her hard against his body and delivered the most searing kiss she had ever experienced. They clung to each other fiercely, hands exploring bodies as they crossed an unseen border – where something vital and alive forged them together with heat and longing.

A clock chimed softly, bringing them back to the reality of duty and schedule. "Gods, Severus," Hermione murmured, touching her slightly swollen lips. "Where did that come from?"

Severus held her in a gentler embrace. "Gods, yourself," he answered. "I could ask you the same question." His expression grew serious. "You are aware of where continuation of these activities will lead us?"

Hermione nodded. "I am."

"Then know that I will never let you go if we proceed down that path. Not for anyone. Not for anything."

Hermione seized a handful of hair behind his ear and kissed him again, pouring all her love and desire into the action. "Count on this, Severus. I will never let you go. Not for anyone. Not for anything."

They absorbed these declarations in silence until Hermione glanced at the time. "I'd better get going," she said reluctantly, collecting her books and restoring her uniform. "The War Veterans' Herbology tutorial is being held in the greenhouses. May I leave my Potions kit here for now? I'll pick it up after dinner."

Severus crossed the room to his desk. "Certainly. Though I anticipate I may not be in the best frame of mind when you return to collect it." He handed her Gawain's message. "This explains why, partially. The information is supposed to be completely confidential, but I want you to know."

Hermione read the message twice and handed it back to him. "Thank you for trusting me with it." She noted the almost complete lack of emotion in his eyes. He is finding this extremely difficult. I bet he has sealed everything behind his walls. "When does it happen?"

"Two o'clock this afternoon."

"Did you want... Should I arrange to come with you?"

Severus shook his head. "Not for this occasion. Besides, you have tutorials for the rest of the afternoon." He stood before a window and looked out across the landscape. "I would... if you would... sometime this evening..."

"Seek you out? Listen to what you have to say? Give you whatever comfort I can if you need it? Of course I will! You did the same for me the other night – don't roll your eyes, you really helped! Will you be here?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't know. I might be. It depends."

Hermione thought for a moment. "How about: I'll find you here if you are at peace with the world. Where should I look if you are not?"

"Somewhere isolated and suitably desolate," he replied morosely.

"The middle of the Atacama Desert?"

Severus managed a small smile. "Somewhere within the Hogwarts wards."

"Which narrows the possibilities down to any one of several dozen." Hermione gave him a firm hug. "I'll find you. I meant it when I said I would never let you go."

It was this surety Severus carried with him as he followed Kingsley through St Mungo's. Passing through security clearance under the watchful and suspicious eyes of guard Aurors, they found Oriens waiting for them outside a nondescript door with no identifying number. They passed through into a spartan antechamber.

Despite his Occlumency, Severus felt vaguely sick. He chastised himself for stupidity. Tobias Snape was no Tom Riddle. Severus wondered at the strange disquiet he felt: a slow-moving tumult which defied definition and threatened to addle his wits. He focussed on formally greeting Oriens, who gave a clinical summary of his observations and recommended no sudden displays of magic. Oriens then opened another door and announced their arrival.

Kingsley placed a hand on Severus' shoulder. "Ready? Are you sure..."

Severus cut him off abruptly. "Shall we just get this over with?" With that, he strode into the room.

Oriens and Kingsley shared a moment of concern as the room's atmosphere thickened and pulsed briefly before settling to a subliminal hum of tension.

Before the silence became awkward, Oriens broke it by calmly introducing the Minister for Magic. Toby stood and shook Kingsley's offered hand, looking him in the eye as he did so. Oriens' bearing did not falter as he called attention to Severus' presence. Toby gave his son a fleeting glance, raising his eyebrows in what might have been surprise or apprehension.

Severus stared blankly at a wall.

Kingsley decided to keep things moving. "Mr Snape, I believe Oriens has explained the dangers associated with magical objects – for yourself and both of our worlds should such an object fall into the wrong hands. From what he has told me, you have had some lengthy discussions on the subject. Do you have any further questions?"

"No questions. And m' name's Toby," he grumbled.

Kingsley took the brusque reply in his stride. "Oriens will perform some diagnostics to establish whether or not you are magically bound to the object you carry. If we find nothing, we will then ask you to place it on the table and cross to the other side of the room. Have you ever tried to part company with it before?"

Toby nodded and held up three fingers.

"Three times? What stopped you from leaving it behind?"

Toby looked steadily at Kingsley. "Dunno. But it wasn't like I was addicted to it or nothin', if that's what yer gettin' at." His eyes flicked over to Severus – who had not yet looked in his direction – and then to the floor. "If I were to call it anythin'... Not sure. Obligation, maybe?"

Severus snorted and folded his arms, his posture rigid.

Toby flinched as though touched with a red hot brand.

"Perhaps we should proceed with the diagnostics?" Oriens suggested.

"I'd 'preciate it if you would," Toby muttered uneasily.

Oriens palmed his wand. "Tobias, I promise this will not hurt. You will not even know it's happening. I only need you to keep still."

"Get on with it."

The bond detection process took a full fifteen minutes, during which Severus did not move a muscle. Kingsley watched him pensively, hoping he had not asked too much of the wizard who had already given so much – everyone had their breaking point, even Severus Snape.

At last, Oriens made an announcement. "There are no detectable bonds between Tobias and the source of the magic." He addressed Toby. "Do you think you can put it on the table and walk to the other side of the room?"

Toby remained silent, clenching and unclenching his fists. He gave Severus a sidelong glance, then looked away.

Suddenly, he spoke in a hoarse whisper. "What'd yer mother ever do t' deserve what 'appened?"

Severus scowled and turned to face his father, but still would not look at him.

Toby grew agitated. "I'll own I deserved it, but what'd she ever do – to make you send yer mates to... It was murder, y' know that? Cold-blooded murder by a pack of spineless mongrel..."

"I never asked for anyone to die." Severus interrupted, his voice cold as a tomb.

"Nah. Course not. Just rough 'em up a little, was that it?"

And what did you do when you staggered through the door with a skin-full? Severus felt his control slip enough for a response to emerge as a guttural growl. "What?"

Toby's blood was instantly up. Dogged by fear for so long and finding himself backed into a corner, he was more than willing to show his hand – consequences be damned. He moved to the centre of the room, reckless with desperation. "Why wouldn't y' do it yerself, eh? Sent yer posh-arsed mate Malfoy and 'is brown-nosed bastards to..."

"Malfoy?!" Severus thundered, throwing off his cloak.

This time, their eyes met with an almost audible clash. Like a pair of gladiators intent on death or glory, they took each other's measure and squared off for the next move.

"Gentlemen!" Kingsley used his physique and authority to call the potential combatants to attention. He stood between them with his wand drawn.

Oriens moved behind Toby and placed a restraining hand on his elbow.

Kingsley looked from one Snape to the other with a calculated amount of censure. "Are you really a pair of mere schoolboys spoiling for a fight in the gutter?" he asked quietly. "Because you are both painting that very picture, and it is neither pretty nor civilised. I do not think I need explain to anyone in command of their faculties, brawling will not be tolerated in a hospital." The Minister for Magic watched carefully as Severus reined in his power and his temper, appearing to make use of a strenuous mental exercise.

Toby shook his head as though to clear his mind. He glanced at Oriens, who released him immediately. Toby moved towards the table, facing it with his head bowed. Oriens wondered if Severus had noticed his father's look of hopeless despair. After a moment, Toby spoke again. This time, he sounded beaten and weary. "Just tell me, did you want yer mother dead?"

Severus closed his eyes. "No."

"Did you want 'er damaged?"

"No."

Toby dragged a chair into position and sat down. He poked a stack of documents. "These say you... you ain't with the dark stuff anymore. That right?"

"Yes."

Toby sighed and ran his hands through his hair, then leaned back and fumbled at his belt. He was deathly pale when he placed something on the table. It was an object Severus, Oriens and Kingsley instantly recognised.

It was an exact double of the artefact held in the vaults.

Toby did not respond to their astonished stares. His next words were tremulous with unspoken pain. "Eileen called it the Llygad y Ddraig."

Severus was first to speak. "This time, Minister, I can safely say I have seen something like it before." His question to Toby lashed the air like a command. "Where did you get this?"

Toby stiffened as his features glazed over. "Can't... Don't ask me. Please, don't ask me."

Severus graced him with a look of complete contempt and levitated the Llygad. Toby jumped like a scalded cat as it rose into the air.

"Easy does it, man," Kingsley said, standing beside the now terrified Muggle. "Severus is going to check it out for Dark Magic. He won't touch it until he knows what the risks are."

Severus followed the same procedures he had used with the artefact in the vaults, forming a series of conclusions as he did so. "As with its counterpart in the vaults, I detect no sign of Dark Magic. There is power within it – but it too, appears neutral. The complexity of the protective charms and wards is identical. I believe this... Llygad... and the artefact in the vaults are twin objects. Or one of them is a very convincing duplicate. I shall attempt to access the power within to see if it contains the same warning."

Taking the Llygad in his hand, Severus sent his awareness into the disc of blue crystal. This time he kept watch for anything familiar – and for any sign he was about to be unexpectedly ejected. He could sense power; it hung like a palpable presence in front of him as he navigated his way through the labyrinthine defences. Annoyance flared as he was caught unawares – an unexpected void, a falling sensation, a dizzying twist, then something completely different. A sharp pain flickered behind his eyes and was gone.

He opened his eyes and looked around. He was aware that, physically, he had not gone anywhere, yet his perceived surroundings were different. It was marginally like being in a Pensieve. He stood in a dimly lit cavern: a cave both spacious and clean. Leaning against one wall of the cave was a polished sheet of bronze. A boy stood before it, examining his own reflection with rapt attention.

Severus could not recall seeing the boy before. His tunic and sandals were caked with mud and ill-kept, though the dagger at his belt looked serviceable enough. In the dim light, it was hard to tell if the urchin was fair skinned, or swarthy. His hair was disgracefully unkempt – and jet black: the same colour as the eyes almost hidden by the intensity of his scowl. He could not have been more than ten years old, but he had the sullen wariness of one who was used to watching his back. Severus quietly empathised – he knew the feeling. Suddenly, the boy grinned at his reflection, transforming himself into someone friendly and approachable.

With a stomach-churning lurch, he was back in the room in St. Mungo's. Oriens and Kingsley watched him anxiously, while Toby sat trembling like a beast awaiting slaughter. "This Llygad is different to its apparent twin," he stated.

His eyes locked on Toby. "How did you come by it?" he growled, holding the Llygad between them.

Toby scrambled out of his chair, looking wildly around the room. "No. I can't..."

"Minister, I think he's had enough," Oriens warned.

Kingsley nodded. "Perhaps we should leave it for now, but we really need to know where the Llygad comes from..."

"No!" Toby yelled, his voice crackling with fear as Severus tossed the Llygad to the centre of the table. "Not now, not ever! You can't make me go back there. I won't!" His eyes met those of his son for a split-second.

Severus struck like a viper. "Legilimens!" Following a steadily increasing trail of resistance, he soon found what he sought. Gradually, a familiar room came into focus. What he saw truly amazed him.