A Deepening Shadow - Part 2

A/N's

Descriptions of a certain cave are consistent with Mary Stewart's depiction in her books The Crystal Cave (1970), The Hollow Hills (1973), and The Last Enchantment (1979).

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

Many thanks to linlawless for beta-reading, explaining how to use hyphens to modify wizards (ah, punctuation – such power), and a whole lot of comma-wrangling. See you back at the ranch, Lin!

With a growled oath, Severus caught his balance and opened his eyes – to complete darkness. "Lumos," he whispered as he drew his wand. He looked around, frowning through the lancing pain which flickered behind his eyes.

He was back in the cave where he had seen the boy, but the entrance was sealed with boulders and stones: blocked by a landslide, perhaps. The bronze mirror no longer adorned the wall. Severus approached the spot where the mirror had once stood. The toe of his boot caught on something in the thick layer of rock dust which coated the floor. Crouching, he rubbed the dust away and revealed a corner of tarnished, pitted bronze. So this is definitely the same cave, he thought, staring at a clot of shadow near the sealed entrance.

He nearly gasped when another figure soundlessly appeared out of thin air. Severus' eyes widened as he looked upon the newcomer, who was as unaware of his presence as the black-haired boy had been.

The wizard – for he quickly illuminated his wand and established the fact – also had black hair, which he wore loose about his shoulders and fashionably untidy. Severus caught a glimpse of obsidian eyes, and eyebrows that reminded him strongly of his mother. The wizard's dress sense was cavalier bordering on piratical. Soft leather riding boots, close-fitting hose, and a quilted scarlet doublet sewn with an extravagance of gold thread were revealed when he threw back his cloak of black wool. Severus quietly snorted at the lace adorning the wizard's collar and cuffs, then scrutinised the rapier hanging from an elegantly crafted sword-belt. Judging by wizard's precise, graceful movements, there could be no doubt that this strange character knew how to use the weapon.

The wizard dropped his cloak, then divested himself of sword-belt and doublet. Drawing a silver knife, he slit one of the doublet's inside seams and drew a small, vellum-wrapped package from within it. Silently, he cast Reparo, and the seam mended perfectly. Worriedly shaking his head, he picked up the package and moved to the rear of the cave. With an agile jump, he caught hold of a ledge high on the wall. After a brief scramble, he disappeared from view. Severus watched with eyebrows raised as a faintly musical note echoed from what he assumed was a hidden entrance to another part of the cave. The wizard emerged and dropped, catlike, to the ground. Donning his doublet, weaponry and cloak, he reached under his shirt and withdrew an object Severus now knew on sight...

His stomach in turmoil, Severus blinked and focussed on his concerned audience. His wand was drawn and illuminated. He allowed his gaze to rest on the Llygad y Ddraig and thought of the wizard in the cave. "Nox. I saw... " I think I saw one of my ancestors. "I saw a man. A wizard," he said at last.

"A grown-up version of the boy?" Kingsley prompted.

"No. It seemed a few centuries had passed since the boy's time. The wizard I saw had early sixteen-hundreds stamped all over him. He had this with him." Severus held up the Llygad.

"Was he using it?"

"He looked as though he was about to do something with it. The... vision... ended before he enacted his intentions."

Minerva studied her former teaching colleague carefully and exchanged a worried glance with Hermione. "Severus, did you see something disturbing?"

"Not exactly," Severus answered, reaching for Hermione's hand under the table. "I believe I have seen evidence that the Llygad y Ddraig truly is an heirloom of the Prince family." He scowled. "The word 'heirloom' does not fit the thing."

"An object of such power is not a trinket. Nor is it a 'thing,'" Bane said evenly. "It is an inheritance – both it and the responsibility of its use and safekeeping."

Firenze approached Severus and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Your inheritance. It was kept hidden from you – and yet kept safe until the time came for you to claim it."

Toby watched his son's eyes grow blank and expressionless. He could only wonder what Severus was thinking. For a long time, Toby had suspected that the Llygad y Ddraig was connected with the fragment of a tale he had salvaged from the fireplace so many years before.

Tocky had only managed to tell him a little about Merlin before Firenze came to tell him he was required for some 'important revelation'. According to Tocky, all reliable physical descriptions of Merlin had faded into obscurity. There was certainly no documented evidence of the great wizard's appearance. However, Tocky had been able to confirm Merlin's Welsh origins – the house-elf even gave Toby the Welsh pronunciation of the name – Myrddin. Dropping his reedy voice to a conspiratorial whisper, Tocky had told of a fact long forgotten and, more often than not, overtly denied by wizards and witches: Merlin's father was a Roman Muggle of high military rank. It gave Toby a serious case of – as he called them – the heebie-jeebies.

Toby was convinced that the boy featured in the mysterious paragraphs was Merlin himself – but what right did he, a Muggle, have to make such a declaration? To his present company, it could well be worse than heresy. Toby sighed quietly and held his tongue between his teeth. Several times during the meeting, he had been on the verge of revealing his conclusions.

When Kingsley had asked Severus to examine the Llygad, he had also told him to use Legilimency on a "ruffian boy" if he saw him again. "Again" could only mean that Severus had seen the boy before – in a "vision" – like the sixteenth-century wizard he had reported seeing in his most recent inspection of the Llygad.

Wonder what the lad looked like: was 'e black-'aired and black-eyed?, Toby pondered. He decided to pick Tocky's brains some more. He also decided that if Tocky's information did not discount the idea, Severus should be the first to know of the possible connection of the Llygad with the legendary Merlin. For better or for worse, Toby resolved to tell Severus himself.

From the roof of the gymnasium, Arawn stared out over the concrete decay of Pripyat. At least Travers had been silenced in time – though it had been a very close call.

Strategic cooperation between centaurs and humans was an obstacle he had never expected to encounter. Such a thing had not occurred for centuries. He discounted the centaurs' participation in the Battle of Hogwarts. By all descriptions, they had made an impulsive decision and intervened at the fifty-ninth minute of the eleventh hour – a clattering, disorganised rabble.

This time, they had been highly coordinated. Their systematic patrols in the Forbidden Forest had exposed the covert surveillance Arawn had charged his band of Death Eaters to perform. He ground his teeth. Centaur patrols were not supposed to happen! Nor were centaurs supposed to summon Aurors and close ranks with them. Arawn fancied he could still hear the wild, defiant notes of the centaurs' horns. Apparently, so could the Dementors. A small group of them huddled near the edge of the roof. They were still manifestly restless. Arawn could feel their agitation at encountering unexpected resistance.

Arawn clenched his fists. As far as he knew, centaurs had no need for any form of defence against Dementors – Dementors did not regard them as suitable prey. Yet centaurs did have a defensive strategy, and it was a highly effective one. Arawn snarled quietly. Never in his life had he imagined he would be chased by a centaur and narrowly avoid being shot down by the galloping star-gazer.

Star-gazer! Arawn considered the implications. If the centaurs have seen signs in the heavens, perhaps this explains why they were patrolling and armed. He took the Llygad y Ddraig out from under his robes. Of all the ancient artefacts he had seen as Curator of Unidentified Antiquities, it was the only one to truly captivate him. Maddeningly, its power flowed so teasingly, voluptuously within reach, yet it eluded him like a Siren calling him to a sensuous, irresistible death.

If the Llygad y Ddraig is told of in the movements of planets and the patterns of stars, it must have more significance than I first thought. I know it holds some great secret, and it has to be a secret concerning Merlin himself. I know it holds a potent, ancient magic – the impenetrable defences alone tell of its worth and peril. Never have I seen its equal. Circe! The heights that could be reached if such power were directed by a strong will.

A Dementor approached him. Its voice slid into his mind. What could be done with such power? There was a stealthy taunt in the creature's tone. A shrouded challenge.

Arawn did not need to look at the Dementor. He could feel its proximity as though it were an extension of himself. Its voracious hunger goaded his obsession and forged hidden ambition into a lethally sharp focus.

"Do you know how many magical artefacts lay forgotten in the vaults?" he asked out loud. "All of them had some purpose. All of them still have a potential use." He turned and approached the Dementor, no longer feeling its bone-chilling cold. "It has been too long since magic advanced in any meaningful way. We have followed the same rules and learned the same methods – which become more ineffectual and insipid by the day – for centuries!" Arawn paced, disgusted. "Magical power needs to grow and develop. It needs to breach new territory and conquer the weak, inane laws put in place by puling idiots who are afraid of their own shadows! It cannot do so when there is no discipline, no reverence, no exactitude." He held the Llygad in the palm of his hand, then closed his fingers over it. "Perhaps, with the power I hold in my hand, I could take magic to a higher incarnation – a renaissance!"

You shall call it into being. We will help you as you have helped us.

Arawn faced the hovering creature. I need Snape to waken the Llygad's power. He must place it in the hand of a forgotten god in the first home of his ancestors. He considered the problem of cornering the wizard. The fact that Snape was never alone when he exited the wards of Hogwarts – or the Ministry – was no doubt a response to his ex-Death Eater status. There were some in wizarding Britain who would never regard Snape as worthy of anything beyond warming a cell in Azkaban – or an assassin's curse.

The Dementor's shroud fluttered as a fitful breeze skittered over the abandoned city. We must retreat for a time. We must watch from a distance.

Arawn had a sudden inspiration. "I shall give you memories of every place even remotely connected with Snape – from the ruins of a Roman villa to the squalor of Spinner's End. Place our spies in these locations. Contact me at once if he makes an appearance. Detain him if you can. Do not harm him."

If he has company?

"Detain them, too. If Snape feigns ignorance of the Llygad y Ddraig, or proves uncooperative, hostages will be useful bargaining tools."

Severus groaned appreciatively. "Where did you learn to do this so well?"

"Do what so well, Severus? You have to be more specific. Are you referring to my ability to brew an outstanding Muscle Relaxing Ointment, or to the unparalleled excellence of its application?" Hermione warmed a little more of the ointment in her hand and smoothed it over his lower back.

"Both," he purred, stretching blissfully as Hermione kneaded a particularly stubborn knot out of his left erector spinæ.

"I had a Potions professor who did not compromise his extremely high standards for anyone. Some would have called him... difficult, but I found his classes to be a welcome challenge and a constant source of inspiration."

"Inspiration?"

"Inspiration to achieve outstanding results, both as a personal goal and as a means of irritating the hell out of him without being disrespectful."

"Oh, really?"

"As for the application technique: remember when I said I told Parvati that I wasn't too keen on horses?"

"Yes."

"Well, when I was around ten years old, I wanted to try riding one. I soon found out that staying in the saddle was not as easy as I had thought. I took a bad tumble and needed three whole months of physiotherapy and remedial massage to get proper movement back in my shoulders."

Severus thought for a moment. "No doubt you plagued your long-suffering therapist with incessant questions until you had enough material for a conference... Ow!"

"That's one of the ashi points," Hermione said. "They are usually quite tender. Some refer to them as the 'Ah, shit!' points because that's the usual response from patients receiving treatment."

"Your therapist told you that? When you were ten?"

"Nope. It's what I said when she applied pressure to it, thereby prompting a full explanation. Luckily, Mum didn't hear me. How does that feel?"

"Much better," Severus replied. "Who would have thought preparing you for the genteel methods of Wizengamot cross-examiners would be so stressful?"

Hermione swatted him playfully. "You enjoyed it thoroughly! Vintage Professor Snape in mega-snark, terror-of-the-dungeons mode. I'm the one in need of a massage after such a ruthless grilling. And I had classes afterwards!"

"Vintage? Witch! I will have you know I am not yet in my dotage. Far from it," he added silkily.

"An afternoon spent demonstrating alternative Dementor repulsion techniques on a Boggart seems to have left you a little ragged around the edges."

"After which Fergus and I engaged in a bout or two of amicable duelling."

Hermione pointed her wand at the fireplace to renew a somewhat neglected blaze. "And an amicable pint or two of double stout."

Crookshanks lazily rolled away from the hearth in response to a wave of whisker-crinkling warmth, then curled up to concentrate on another eight hours of sleep.

"Severus?"

"Hmm?"

"The business with the Llygad... and your mother's family..."

"Is building up to something manifestly dangerous," Severus finished for her.

"You seem to be front and centre in whatever is going to happen. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't worried about the kind of danger we might face. It's like a shadow approaching the sun. It's not yet upon us, but it is growing and deepening. And so soon after the war."

"Hermione," Severus entreated, pulling her into an embrace. "We are as prepared as we can be with the knowledge that we have. Oriens will be back at the Ministry on Thursday morning. He has been in touch with Kingsley and has some information for us to consider. I have yet to speak to Lucius – and you, my witch, need to make sure you will be at your best for the Wizengamot." He rubbed her back gently, allowing his hand to stray to her hips. "Now look what you've done! I have a surfeit of tension again."

Hermione appraised his nude form candidly. "So you do, but it is only in one particular muscle group. Your present condition will require a very specific form of massage, with a simultaneous application of heat."

"What do you mean by 'heat'?" he enquired, pinning her down with his weight. "You are being far from specific."

"Let's see..." Hermione gasped as Severus nipped her earlobe. She moaned and grappled with him to exchange a fiercely passionate kiss. "As much heat as you can handle."

"I do hope that does not involve literally setting me on fire," Severus murmured as he tasted his way down her body.

Lucius Malfoy was not one to express excited anticipation, but he was sorely tempted when he recognised Severus' voice in quiet conversation with the warder. With a flamboyant clanking of keys and a gruff announcement of his visitor's identity, the cell door opened, and a familiar black-clad figure strode through. Forgetting all pretence at poise, Lucius leapt to his feet, pleased to see that Severus still greeted him with a small, dignified smile. To his astonishment, the warder gave Severus a deferential salute and left them both alone, closing and locking the door behind him. Lucius arched a sleek, platinum eyebrow. "They trust you enough to leave you alone with me?"

"Evidently, though they are taking the same precautions with me as they do for every other visitor to Azkaban." Severus raised his right arm, revealing a metal band around his wrist. "It binds the wearer's magic," he explained. "I am also wandless."

Lucius' eyes traversed Severus' robes, coming to rest on a rune-embossed silver emblem decorating the younger wizard's chest. Lucius gave a smile that was both rueful and pleased. It was too late for him to make a new life as a free man, but he did not begrudge Severus his obvious success. "There's room there for your Order of Merlin," he said, indicating an unadorned patch of finely tailored cloth. He laughed as Severus rolled his eyes. "I can tell you are close to jubilant, however much you try to hide it." Lucius picked up the Daily Prophet and waved it like a flag. "Order of Merlin – First Class! Now you can tell Voldemort and Dumbledore to go and dine on Flobberworms."

"Flobberworms are far too useful for such a fate," Severus commented, allowing himself to smile properly. He looked around the cell, quirking an eyebrow as he noted some meagre home comforts in the form of seat cushions, a coffee table, and an empty crystal decanter. "I heard inmates are now allowed the Prophet and The Quibbler. Are decorative freedoms also allowed?"

"We may personalise our cells to some small extent," Lucius answered. "I hope to build extra collateral with, as one could phrase it, judicious advice." He sighed as he surveyed his cell. "I have a long way to go before I can offer you civilisation in the form of a comfortable chair and a glass of wine." He looked Severus in the eyes. "You are here for information."

Severus nodded once. "I am." He slowly paced the floor with his hands clasped behind his back. "Before you begin negotiating your price, think on this: there was an eyewitness to proceedings at Spinner's End on the night Riddle had my parents executed."

Lucius frowned. "Oh?"

"A Malfoy was verbally identified as one of the perpetrators."

Lucius steepled his fingers. After some silent minutes of deep thought, he gestured to a second chair. "Sit down, if you will." When Severus complied, Lucius regarded him seriously. "A Malfoy was there. My father, Abraxas." A troubled look crossed his aristocratic features. "No doubt you recall, when Voldemort told you of the execution, he claimed he had rid you of those who had neglected and misused you as a favour to you. I was under the impression you were indifferent to their demise."

Severus nodded. "I am aware Riddle was also testing the strength of my loyalty." He ignored Lucius' oblique probing for the reason behind his present enquiry.

Luicius folded his arms. When he looked at Severus again, his features were drawn and melancholy. "When you first came to Hogwarts, you were barely civilised by anybody's standards, let alone a Malfoy's. Yet my father ordered me to watch over you, to provide an example of what a wizard should be, and to give you direction in the ways of Slytherin House. At first, I wondered what I had done to deserve such a burden. A half-blood guttersnipe was hardly my choice for an adherent. But academically, you showed great promise from the first day – even if you did spend most of your time going moon-eyed over the Evans Mud... girl.

"Mercifully, you were a quick study when it came to table manners, deportment, and elocution. When I was instructed to bring you to Malfoy Manor for the holidays, I began to suspect there was more to my designated mentoring than ensuring the sanctity of Slytherin's behavioural standards. By then, Severus, I truly considered you a friend."

"I gather your suspicions were confirmed," Severus observed as a shadow of unease darkened Lucius' countenance.

"I think so. I don't know for certain, but what I do know is that the Dark Lord did not converse with his three most trusted followers without significant reason. On the night your parents were executed, I brought you to the Manor."

"I remember."

"I asked you to wait in the drawing room; then I went to tell Father you were present. I heard them talking – Voldemort, Father, Rookwood, and Crevan. They did not see me. I hid behind the suits of armour at the top of the grand staircase." Lucius reached for a glass and a pitcher of water, his hands trembling slightly as he poured a measure and downed it in one gulp. "Father was telling Voldemort about the last moments of a Muggle and a blood traitor. Then they began arguing about a half-blood: a new recruit on the verge of taking the Mark. I knew they were talking about you. That was why I eavesdropped."

Severus was the picture of calm acceptance. "What did their argument reveal?"

"Rookwood was against you from the start, as were many others who dared to harbour doubts about the Dark Lord's plans. Voldemort must have been feeling generous that night; he did not carve little slices off Rookwood and force him to eat them. Voldemort said – I remember it word for word: 'I will judge the time to hand it to him. I will judge when he should be told its history. I will command him to use it. Then, I will claim its power. With that power, and with the Elder Wand, nothing will challenge me ever again – and I will take magic to its next magnificent incarnation. You may do as you will with him after that time. Until then, keep the half-blood close.'"

"You spoke of this to no-one?"

"I couldn't. Voldemort placed Consultatio Obsaepio on 'all who have heard'. Unwittingly, he had also cast it on me. This is the first time my thoughts on the matter have been decipherable even to myself, let alone made the transition to speech." Lucius pulled up his left sleeve, revealing a small, round scar as the only remnant of the Dark Lord's Mark. "The vanishing of the Mark and my loose tongue are welcome assurances that he is truly gone."

Working on the assumption that "it" was the Llygad y Ddraig as carried by Crevan, Severus quickly collated the information with everything else he knew about the artefact. The fit was too precise to be a coincidence. "Did any of them mention what I was supposed to be commanded to use?"

"No. They all seemed to know of it without mentioning anything specific. Did you have something in mind – perhaps in the form of an educated guess?"

Severus smirked. "Lucius, really! Have you no higher price to claim than more information which, I might add, could be pure speculation and completely unreliable?"

"Unreliable? From you? Preposterous! But I do have something in mind as payment." He waited until Severus silently prompted him to continue. "I want Narcissa to have visiting rights."

"'Visiting rights', as in...?"

"Severus, don't make me go into details!" Lucius frowned in exasperation. "I need her, Severus. Not just physically... I love her. Oh, I know our marriage was arranged in accordance with centuries of tradition, and actually falling for each other was highly unlikely – and deemed unnecessary – but that is exactly what happened. If Voldemort had found out..."

"He would have seen it as an infringement upon the loyalty he claimed as his due. He would have eliminated the interference."

Lucius nodded weakly. "I never realised how much I valued her until we were forced apart. I didn't even acknowledge that I loved my own son until his life was forfeit." He waved his hand in a broad acknowledgement of his surroundings. "I wonder if this place is a blessing or a curse. I have too much time to think and reflect."

"I shall see what can be arranged," Severus said, unwilling to be drawn into a philosophical debate.

"Thank you, Severus. There is something else you should know about."

"In exchange for what?"

"I believe you have already paid for it by protecting my son's soul."

"I acted under a wand oath to Narcissa."

"I don't care how it was done!" Lucius exclaimed. "The only thing I am interested in is the fact that you were there, and you stood between Draco and multiple avenues to damnation!" Lucius paused to catch his breath, flushed and intent. "An Unspeakable paid me a visit some time ago – the exact date I cannot be sure of. Time blurs and warps here. If not for the deliveries of what passes for newsprint, I would not know the day of the week, or even the month. The Unspeakable was asking me for specific memories of Death Eaters – yourself included."

Severus narrowed his eyes as a cold thread of foreboding crept up his spine. "Go on."

"The subject of the memory had to be in an emotionally charged state: one filled with anger, or hatred, at the point of losing all self-control. I had plenty of memories to choose from – scenes from Revels, infighting, rivalries – but you were my masterpiece." Before Severus could respond, Lucius continued. "I did not betray you. I produced a fine concoction of a false memory. I took the image of you duelling Mulciber to an insensible pulp and substituted your entirely justified wrath with Voldemort's vicious blood-lust. The others I cared nothing for; the Unspeakable was welcome to true memories of them."

"What did this Unspeakable look like?"

"A little taller than me, heavily muscled, irritatingly well-featured. Picture a Swedish Flying instructor and Quidditch hero – the kind vapid witches like to swoon over – and you'll have the picture. His eyes are the most noticeable thing about him."

"In what way?"

"As unpleasant a task as it may be, consider Dolores Umbridge."

Severus considered, then duly curled his lip. "Soulless eyes? You saw the same thing in the Unspeakable?"

"Oh, yes. Perhaps I am jumping to wild conclusions, but I wonder if Umbridge and the Unspeakable have a close association with Dementors as common ground?"

Severus raised both eyebrows in surprise. "The Unspeakable in question was Chief Administrator of Dementors before they defected to Riddle."

Lucius was now deathly pale. "You know of him already. That's good. There's more. When the Unspeakable dropped in for a chat, I suspected he was not alone."

It was all Severus could do to restrain himself from demanding the entire story instantly. "Someone under a Disillusionment Charm?"

Lucius shook his head. "His shadow was... unusual. I swear I saw it shift on its own. Furthermore, it was not his real shadow." Lucius placed an ink pot in front of a lit candle. "His real shadow fell true, like the shadow of this ink pot. The other shadow did not. It was slightly off to one side – and darker. I would not have noticed had I not been staring at the floor trying to think of ways to guard your back."

"I thank you for it. Was there a discernible drop in temperature?"

"In here? None that I could feel. Azkaban is always cold." Lucius cupped his hands around the candle flame to emphasise his point. "I assume you are thinking along the same lines as I am: the Unspeakable had a Dementor concealed in, or as, his shadow."

Severus nodded thoughtfully. His musings followed a sinister logic and reached a disturbing conclusion. "He wanted the emotionally charged memories to feed to Dementors, thereby giving them a means of tracking a specific target. Clever. Though I cannot fathom how such a method would work."

"Clever and dangerous. Even Voldemort could not control those creatures completely. I have no idea what the Unspeakable wants with Death Eaters or those soul-sucking vermin, but whatever it is, you can be sure the Ministry would not approve. Be wary, Severus. I had the distinct impression he will not give up easily."

Severus folded his arms as he considered his next move. "I shall have a word, or many, with Augustus Rookwood... What is the matter?"

"Rumours. I hear snippets in the corridors. There's something wrong with Rookwood." Lucius ran his hands through his hair. "Gods, what I would not give for a shot of Old Ogdens." He turned to face Severus. "I hear he has the look of a man who is not entirely present. Word is that he has... gone. Not to any place in particular, or sickened with any known affliction... just... gone."

"As though his soul has been eaten?" Severus suggested.

"If that is the case, he hasn't been thoroughly consumed." Lucius shivered.

Severus scowled. "Perhaps his soul has been, under orders from our Unspeakable friend, partially devoured."