Five Arrows – Part 2

A/N's

This chapter is presented in three parts.

The following scenes are adapted from The Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart (1970):

- Uther and Merlin scene: pp 190–193. The conversation between the soldiers is my addition.

- The description of Ambrosius: pp 148–149

- Ambrosius and Merlin scene: pp 204–210

Unaltered dialogue quotes from Ms Stewart's work are marked with an asterisk (*)

The dragon brooch is described in The Hollow Hills (1973) and The Last Enchantment (1979) as being made of copper, with an enamelled design of a red dragon on a gold field.

'Senior Auror McPhee' is adapted from the character Nanny McPhee in the film Nanny McPhee, Universal Pictures, 2005

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

Many thanks to TeaOli for beta-reading, being patient, and being there.

Orange.

Flaming torches flickered orange between the black trunks of dripping trees. From where he stood at the edge of a muddy track, Severus could hear the echoing clatter of horses moving at a brisk trot along a paved road.

Before he could wonder at the lack of discomfort with which his awareness had been drawn into the Llygad y Ddraig, another horse burst through the thicker forest to his right. Clinging to the horse's neck-strap like a cloaked burr, a youth crouched low in the saddle. The animal splashed heavily through a shallow brook and slithered to a halt in the middle of the track. Severus took a step back as it half-reared and whinnied.

Several horses answered from the road. A man's voice barked a command into the night. There was an orderly commotion of champing, snorting, fidgeting, the light clash of armour, and riders' murmured commands.

Severus knitted his brows. An armed troop?

His question was soon answered. Two horsemen pounded down the track at a mud-flinging gallop, one of them bearing a torch, the other with his sword drawn. They quickly flanked the youth, who pushed back the hood of his cloak and raised both hands to show he was unarmed.

Severus' heart thudded against his ribs. He recognised the boy from the cave immediately, even though he had the growth of several years and his face showed the planes and angles of the man he would someday be. Myrddin Emrys.

Without resistance, Myrddin allowed one of the men to take his horse's bridle and lead him back to the waiting troop at a slow trot. The torch-bearer cast his eyes around, looking for any other potential detainees. Finding none, he spurred his horse after his comrade.

Determined not to waste any time, Severus followed them. He blinked – and found that he was already standing on the edge of a straight, paved road. Courtesy of the Roman Empire and slave labour, no doubt, Severus mused, watching the three horsemen emerge from the sodden shadows.

One of Myrddin's escorts signalled an all-clear. "There's only one, my lord Uther. He's unarmed."

Uther? Severus turned his attention to the so-named commander of the troop, who sat his restive grey stallion as easily as one would a park bench on a sunny day. Uther raised his visor. Even in the shifting light of the sizzling torches, Severus noted piercing blue eyes that could see into a man and read the warp and weft of his character. Uther's eyes widened as his men led Myrddin to him.

Severus engaged his entire observational capability and waited for what might be revealed.

"It had to be you, of course,"* Uther growled, as though the youth were the bane of his existence. "Well, Merlin the bastard, what are you doing here, alone, and where have you been?"*

Merlin! Gods, what is this? Severus fought off alarm and focussed his attention.

As Merlin-the-bastard gave his excuses, Severus noted a subtle shift in the youth's countenance. Occlumency. He is using Occlumency – or trying to. Severus scowled. It had taken him nearly two years of concentrated effort to not only use Occlumency effectively, but to hide the fact that he was using it. Merlin's attempt was definitely that of a novice on the first or second lesson.

He shifted to get another glance at Uther's face. Severus could tell that Uther was all Muggle – and a dangerously perceptive one. Concerned, he watched Merlin closely. As Severus surmised, the young wizard didn't stand a chance.

Uther impatiently curbed his restless mount. "You're lying, aren't you? Why?"*

This time, Merlin sat up in the saddle and dispensed with all attempts at disguise. Reading the boy's expressions, Severus suspected that Merlin had not actually lied to Uther, but had hidden the truth of why he was out, alone, in the middle of a patrolled forest, with carefully woven phrases and half-told accounts. Merlin gave his story again with a prudent touch of extra detail here and there – and enough verbal ducking and weaving to again keep Uther from finding out anything incriminating.

Severus grinned to himself. Myrddin Emrys, you would make a fine Slytherin. With a little training.

Uther did not see anything worth grinning about. His blue eyes blazed angrily and locked onto one of Merlin's saddlebags. Following Uther's gaze, Severus noted a sliver of white cloth showing under the dark leather. Uther gave a curt gesture. One of his soldiers plunged his hand into the saddlebag and pulled out a white robe.

Horses snorted and showed the whites of their eyes. Men glanced at each other and made signs against evil.

Severus gasped. He knew a druid's robe when he saw one – moreover, he could almost smell the blood which stained it. No, Myrddin – not you, too.

Uther shook out the robe to its full length. "One of them, by Mithras!"

Severus stared at the robe in Uther's hand, thinking that there was something amiss about the whole situation. Suddenly, he had it. He estimated Merlin's height, then compared it to the robe. Uther, you swaggering, bull-shagging idiot. That robe is at least three sizes too big for the boy!

Uther's temper exploded. "Bastard! Who makes so free with my brother's name and stands so high in his favour – we'll see what he has to say to this. You cannot deny it, can you?"*

Merlin sat even straighter. His midnight eyes flashed as he locked gazes with his accuser. "I have not done anything my lord Ambrosius would not like. I will explain this,"* he gestured to the blood-stained robe, "to him myself."

Severus folded his arms. So Ambrosius is Uther's brother...

Uther spurred his horse right up to Merlin's mare. He leaned forward and gripped the youth's cloak hard by the neck and almost lifted him out of the saddle. "Whatever you may be to my brother, you obey me, too."* He gave Merlin a rough shake. "Understand, Merlin Emrys?"*

As Merlin gave a quick nod, Uther let him go with a violent oath. In the torchlight, Severus could see a streak of blood along Uther's hand. At a signal, a torch-bearer came close, shedding light over Merlin's face.

Severus had the satisfaction of seeing Uther completely thunderstruck and hopelessly wrong-footed. He had taken a sudden and particularly vehement dislike to the man.

"He gave you that to wear? The red dragon?"*

At the mention of a red dragon, Severus manoeuvred his way through the vision and spotted a glint of colour at Merlin's throat. Moving closer, he saw that it was a cloak brooch made of copper, the pin of which had scratched Uther's hand. Severus held his breath. The brooch bore a design worked in enamel: a red dragon flying proudly against a field of gold. Severus had seen the design before, depicted in a mosaic in an abandoned ruin – in a dream. He backed away, hanging fire for any information that might tell him what it meant.

Uther's eyes flickered with a light other than wrath as he examined Merlin's face for what seemed an age. "Merlin Emrys..."* He laughed, genuinely amused and, at the same time, unyielding as steel.

Two soldiers began to whisper to each other. Using one of his many espionage skills, Severus filtered out the surrounding noise to hear their conversation:

"They say his father was the Prince of Darkness..."

"Run to your nurse's lap! Are you a man – or a frightened girl, addle-witted with superstition? Did you not hear lord Uther? 'Merlin Emrys', he said."

"And so?"

"By the faith, Goyle, your horse has more brain than you! Emrys and Ambrosius mean the same thing!"

Severus arched his eyebrows. Goyle?

Goyle huffed dismissively. "Emrys is a common enough name over the Narrow Sea; it seems every third brat in every village from the Severn to Mona's Isle answers to it."

"True, but have you not heard the slaves at their gossip? They talk of little else but the resemblance between lord Ambrosius and the boy Merlin. They say they are father and son. Why else would lord Ambrosius give Merlin the red dragon – the royal cipher of his house? Hah! Lord Uther has just discovered he is a not-so-proud uncle."

Severus was stunned. Royal cipher! Merlin has royal blood from both sides?

"I do not rub shoulders with slaves," Goyle grumbled.

"Maybe you should," the other said, leering. "If you lose your lance in battle, you'll spend the rest of your days wishing you had used it more often."

Severus rolled his eyes and looked for another place to eavesdrop. Sudden movement and noise indicated that he would not get the chance.

With dramatic flair, Uther wheeled his stallion and ordered the troop onward. He pointed to Merlin. "Bring him along, and see that he doesn't fall off. It seems my brother treasures him."*

The images swam and blurred, then reformed.

Severus stood in a room lit with resin torches. A brazier cast a warm glow over woven rugs and a tiled floor. A table at one end of the room held a pile of scrolls, tablets, and maps. Myrddin, dressed in a dark blue tunic with the dragon brooch pinned at his shoulder, watched a man standing before the brazier with his head bowed. The man straightened and turned. He looked Roman, certainly, but his skin was deeply tanned, and there was something about the fathomless black of his eyes that suggested a shared heritage with the so-called "black Celts". His close-cropped hair was raven dark, as were the heavy brows that barred his features.

This must be Ambrosius, Severus thought, noting a definite resemblance between the man and the young Merlin. No wonder the slaves had been gossiping. He could sense that the two had been discussing important matters. Severus guessed that the business of the blood-stained robe had been dealt with. Whatever revelations and machinations that business had involved, Merlin had obviously retained Ambrosius' favour. In Severus' opinion, they had the look of men whose allegiance was not to be sundered by deed or rumour.

"Do you hate me for the life I gave you, Merlin?" Ambrosius spoke suddenly, though his tone was quiet. His eyes betrayed a softness, a sadness, which seemed at odds with his formidable features.

Severus listened, steadfastly ignoring a tightening in his throat as Merlin explained how he had looked at every man, from king to soldier to servant to slave, and wondered if he might see his father in them. And now that he could see him in the flesh, Merlin told Ambrosius that had he been given a choice as to who his father should be, he would have chosen him above anyone else.

Severus folded his arms and stared very hard at the pattern woven into a rug. When he collected himself and restored his observational mode, Merlin was gazing steadily at the brazier. Severus watched, awed, as the boy's obsidian eyes deepened, then clouded like smoke over still water. Even through the vision, or memory – Severus could not decide which – he could feel Merlin's power uncoil like a dragon roused from sleep.

"After all," Merlin said in a voice that was distant, yet strong, "what boy would not want the King of all Britain for his father?"*

With an abrupt, nauseating shove, Severus was back in Tobias' room.

Hermione rushed to his side as he barely made it to a chair. "Severus! Talk to me! Say something!"

Severus fuzzily wondered why she was making such a fuss, then decided she was entitled to when he realised he was drenched in sweat and could not speak for shivering. He heard a house-elf squeaking something about hot tea. Another, vaguely familiar voice mentioned sugar.

He felt Hermione guide his hands around a cup and, moved to the core by the concern in her eyes, obeyed her instructions to drink. He shook his head and coughed.

"I don't take sugar," he complained, disconcerted at the effort it took to speak. "How long...?"

"On this occasion, you do," Hermione retorted as she smoothed his hair away from his eyes. "It is necessary, whether you like it or not." She watched him for a moment as he drank again. "See, you look better already," she said. "You were... out of reach for about ten minutes."

"It felt longer." He took another mouthful of tea, relishing the restorative effects of the traditional British cure-all. "What do you mean by 'out of reach'?"

"You looked... like you weren't here. You didn't move, or say anything... and your eyes. I've never seen you do that before."

"Yer eyes went 'ard and blank. The black deepened, then shifted, like smoke. Spooked the B-Jesus outta me," Toby supplied from his position of relative safety near the door to the next room. "Are y' sure you're okay?"

"Yes. I'm sure." Severus almost smiled as Hermione's eyes filled with questions – it was touchingly gratifying to know that his well-being preceded the asking-of-questions in Hermione's importance scale. In that moment, he knew that he loved her more than ever.

Of all the things he had seen, he could only articulate one. It filled him with excitement and fear, the energising delight of discovery, and the trepidation that came with voicing a truth others would condemn as sacrilege. He took Hermione's hand and pressed her fingers to his lips. He glanced at Tobias, who leaned awkwardly against the door jamb with a wide-eyed Tocky clinging protectively to his trouser leg.

"There is much that is not told of Merlin in our history. It seems the Llygad y Ddraig contains visual accounts of events that are not recorded in scroll, book, legend or song," Severus said carefully. "The assumption that Myrddin Emrys and the wizard Merlin – Merlinus Ambrosius, to use his Romanised name – are one and the same..."

He wondered at himself for daring to voice his conclusion. "From what I have just witnessed, the assumption is correct."

Ensconced in a portrait-less, triple-warded meeting-room, Kingsley, Oriens, Hermione, and Toby listened intently as Severus told of what he had witnessed in the disc of blue crystal.

When Severus finished speaking, the Minister for Magic leaned back in his chair and frowned thoughtfully. "So this red dragon – a royal cipher – was worn by Merlin. And you have seen it before in a dream?"

Severus let his hair mask his eyes. "I am aware that it sounds beyond ridiculous."

"Not at all," Kingsley stated, sitting up and glancing at Oriens for confirmation. "Over the past seven years, events ranging from the abnormal to the bizarre to the extraordinary have taken place. I've learned not to dismiss anything as unworthy of consideration until I have all of the surrounding facts."

"And to have great swathes of information omitted from historical accounts is not a new thing," Oriens mused. "I know of enormous gaps in the ancient histories of my homeland. What the omissions originally described, and why they were lost, are two parts of the same mystery."

"The what may be dependent upon the why?" Hermione asked.

Oriens nodded. "And vice versa. I live in hope that pieces of the missing histories may be found and restored to their rightful places, one day." He shrugged ruefully. "I know from experience, they tend to be hidden in unexpected places: that is, if they have not been destroyed.

"Now, what of your house-elf, Tobias? Can he give you any more information?"

Toby shook his head. "When I asked 'im to tell me a bit about Merlin, 'e told me the bits that 'e could tell – 'cause those were the bits 'e knew. Tocky don't know any more than what 'e's already said, and 'e's is scared enough 'avin' done that much. I'll not back 'im into a corner over it." To Toby's surprise, Oriens and the Minister accepted his word and assured him that 'his' house-elf would not be pressured into re-telling ancient tales of Merlin to wizards – or witches.

Kingsley leaned forward to look at the Llygad y Ddraig, which lay on the coffee table looking innocuous enough. "Severus, do your recent experiences give you a handle on what this thing actually is?"

Severus toyed with a scrap of waste parchment, gradually tearing it into confetti-sized pieces. "To say that it behaves like a Pensieve is perhaps an immature conclusion. I have only explored it once with the intention of using it as a memory-viewing device. I would need to do so many more times to be sure. Further, the images I have seen within it have a much more substantial feel than anything I've ever witnessed in a Pensieve. Also unique to the Llygad is the sensation of tremendous power contained somewhere within that crystal lattice – and that power is not static. It moves and interacts with the visions."

"As though it were the driving force behind them?" Oriens asked, intrigued.

"No. It seems more a part of the visions. When I saw Merlin gaze into the brazier and watched his Sight begin to manifest, I thought I could feel his power stir. Perhaps this was an illusion engendered by the power of the Llygad."

Vice versa, Hermione thought. "What if..." She hesitated and bit her lip.

Severus crossed the room to sit beside her. "If you have any ideas, Hermione, give them voice. We are all playing a guessing game, here."

Hermione took his hand for courage. "What if it was Merlin's power that you could feel – and the power in the Llygad is also... Merlin's?"

Kingsley folded his arms. "It is said in our lore-books that towards the end of Merlin's days on earth, Nimuë took his power. Whether she took his power, which is highly unlikely; or his memories, which is more likely; or maybe even both, she would have had to have stored them somewhere." He looked around at his companions. Severus scowled with scepticism. Hermione wandered between alarm and curiosity. Oriens pondered the Llygad y Ddraig with profound respect. Tobais had the look of one who had accidentally released a flame of Fire Crabs and was sorely tried as to how to round them all up again.

Kingsley phrased his next statement as cautiously as he could. "Severus, when we met with the centaurs, you went into the Llygad y Ddraig and said you had seen evidence that it is an heirloom of the Prince family. Firenze himself went on to say that it is your inheritance."

Severus snorted. "An inheritance that might have something to do with Merlin's supposedly stolen power? Kingsley, I begin to think we are jumping at shadows."

Hermione gave Severus a look that said she thought the 'shadows' were more tangible than he was prepared to consider.

No-one was willing to pursue that line of presumption any further.

Severus dismissed a fleeting shadow of uneasiness at the mention of Prince family heirlooms and things inherited. "I believe the Llygad y Ddraig has a more substantial connection to reality. Before Arawn went missing in action, he conducted an extensive search through the title deeds of lands owned by my mother's ancestors. The Aurors reported that the earliest record Arawn had accessed dated to A.D. 755."

Kingsley nodded. "I remember reading that report – the property was described as a Roman-style villa in North Wales."

"It's highly probable that Arawn has visited the location. I propose to do so as well."

Kingsley's raised eyebrows prompted Severus to give a little more information.

"From everything I've been told about your missing Unspeakable, I conclude that he is very methodical in his actions. If he obtained a list of locations to investigate, he would begin at the earliest known record. Considering the short interval between the time he accessed the title deeds and his unauthorised removal of the Llygad from the vaults, I wonder if he did indeed find something very significant. Further, it would take months to investigate every property location. Whatever he may have found, he found it not long after commencing his search."

Kinsley gave a sigh of cautious agreement. "A logical proposition, Severus. But you will not be going alone." Kingsley's tone was resolute. "Take Oriens and at least three Aurors with you." He noted Hermione's sharp look. "And Hermione, if she is willing."

Severus nodded his acceptance of the conditions. "I will also attempt another exploration of this Llygad on site. Perhaps it can give me some insight into what Arawn seeks to achieve with the one he has appropriated from the vaults." He fixed his gaze at an undefined spot on the wall. "I understand that Tobias is not yet out of quarantine, so I suppose I will require his presence as well."

"Quarantine be buggered," Toby growled. "Y'd think I 'ad bloody fleas."

"I'm sure you've had a lot worse," Severus replied in a silky tone designed specifically to provoke annoyance.

"I'll give you a list in t'mornin'," Toby fired back.

"I believe that what Severus meant to say was that you're not yet clear of the magical object separation procedure." Kingsley eyed Severus amicably until he shrugged and looked the other way. "Do you have details of the villa's location?"

Severus nodded and handed over a piece of parchment.

Kingsley looked it over. "I shall send a team of Aurors on a reconnaissance mission tomorrow. I'll tell them to check for wards, tells, hex-traps, curses, and anything else that shouldn't be there. When you get on site, if anything happens, send a Patronus. We will keep your location on an alert-list."

Aurors Thistlethwaite and Savage dropped into the central courtyard with a fine display of synchronised flying. They hailed Auror Proudfoot as he emerged from the depths of the ruins.

"We've made a Cleansweep of the perimeter," Savage announced, shouldering his broom with a military flourish.

Proudfoot snorted and shook his head. "Funny. Not."

Thistlethwaite decided to be helpful. "There's nothing here that I wouldn't expect to find in the middle of nowhere. Merlin knows, we had a hard enough time finding this place! The only signs of life were a few birds and a sleeping pine marten. Who owns this pile anyway?"

"That's classified information," Proudfoot replied. "Shacklebolt wouldn't tell me, and orders are orders." He glanced over his shoulder. "But come and get a look at this."

Inside the remains of what appeared to have been a feasting hall, the three Aurors eyed the mosaic dubiously.

"It's been hidden until quite recently," Proudfoot mused. "Look at the pile of rubble on the floor. No moss, no lichen. The broken edges are all pretty clean." He turned his attention to the red dragon. "Nice bit of work, that is. Whoever the people were who built this place, they earned a nifty Knut or two, that's for sure."

Savage hunkered down to pull a straggling weed out of the flagstones. "Who says they earned it? They probably siphoned their money off the agrarian classes. Shame you couldn't bring young Potter," he teased.

Proudfoot rolled his eyes. "Potter! Here? I shudder to think what he would have got up to. Or into. No, Senior Auror McPhee is welcome to him," he said with a vengeful grin.

Savage and Thistlethwaite gasped. "Senior Auror McPhee..." they whispered, looking around as though she might appear at any moment.

"Oh, aye," Proudfoot affirmed with a chuckle. "Robards did say he was not going to muck around. He told Potter himself, 'As long as you need to work with her, but do not want to work with her, she will stay. When you want to work with her, but no longer need to work with her, she will leave.'"

"How hideous is she this time?" Thistlethwaite asked.

Proudfoot mentally ran through a list of magical creatures. "Picture a cave troll and a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Now think of something roughly half-way between the two."

Savage recoiled in mock horror. "Merlin! Poor Potter!"

"Poor McPhee," Thistlethwaite retorted. "From what I hear of Potter's manageability, she'll be staying hideous for a bloody long time. It's a shame, really. She's right pretty when she's not on assignment."

"Proudfoot!" Auror Bagsend hailed him from the east wing.

"Hey-up! What is it, Bagsend?"

"All clear. There's a blocked doorway – looks like part of the upper floor collapsed over it at some time. There are no signs of curses or traps. Shall I move the mess and check it out? There's a bit of water seeping out under the stones."

Savage turned to Proudfoot, who appeared to be considering the option. "Not much point if there's no magical interference."

Proudfoot shrugged. "Yeah, it might only be a cistern room or something."

"Or a bog," Thistlethwaite suggested in a passable imitation of a Welsh accent. "With bodies!"

"You're full of it!" Proudfoot grumbled.

Sensing that all was quiet, a Dementor crept out of a deep, narrow cleft in a rocky slope, hidden beyond the forest edge. It had stayed out of sight, as ordered. It glided into the ruins.

Keeping close to the deeper shadows of the walls, it tasted the air, sensing the essence of the people who had recently been there – their essence, their life force, and their purpose. With a predator's instinct, it knew more prey would soon follow them.

The Dementor stirred angrily. They would have been good food. Hunger pressured the creature into obedience. It returned to the rocky crag to find the stone that, when pressed, would signal its human contact.

Standing in the middle of what the reconnaissance team's notes described as a feasting hall, Severus eyed the mosaic with a small twinge of foreboding. His previous experience of dreams-come-true was not something he liked to dwell on. Admitting to himself that he was a little spooked, he probed his surroundings with his mind.

The sense of impending danger he had felt in his dream of this same ruin appeared to be limited to his response to the red dragon, which stared down at him with glazed-tile eyes. As he scanned, he could feel Hermione's fascination... and the alert wariness of the three Aurors – Savage, Derwent and Tyburn – who fanned out to search for potential danger. Oriens remained as inscrutable as ever, though his gaze kept returning to the mosaic. He did not need Legilimency to read Tobais' thoughts: Eileen's family came from this?

Hermione glanced at him questioningly, her lower lip held firmly between her teeth.

Severus waited until the Aurors moved far enough away to be unable to hear his next words. "I suppose," he murmured, "the next question we should ask is: What is a replication of a royal cipher doing in the home of my mother's ancestors?"

"It could be a sign of allegiance," Hermione suggested. "During the War of the Roses, people adopted red or white rose designs to show where their loyalties lay."

"Could 'ave somethin' to do with yer mother's maiden name," Toby muttered.

Severus glanced at him thoughtfully. "Having a surname suggestive of a grand title does not imply that the title ever existed in truth."

Aurors Derwent and Tyburn moved out of the feasting hall to explore the broken hulk of the west wing. Oriens paired up with Auror Savage to scan the remains of the east wing.

As soon as she was sure she would not be overheard, Hermione tugged on Severus' sleeve.

"I think I know what it means," she whispered.

Severus quirked an eyebrow – a wordless way of asking her to enlighten him further.

"Don't you see it? Look! The red dragon is the royal sign of Ambrosius' house, right?"

Severus nodded. "And, by inheritance, Merlin's."

"It would also be the sign of Uther's house – because he was Ambrosius' brother. By inheritance, it will be the cipher of Uther's son, Arthur."

"You are assuming that the 'lord Uther' I saw in the Llygad is the same Uther who robbed the royal cradle of Tintagel."

"Severus, what are the odds of two Uthers and two Merlins charging around in the same historically correct time zone?"

Severus' sense of foreboding increased. "The odds are skeletally thin. Your conclusions are?"

Hermione pointed at the mosaic. "The castle could be Caer Camel, Arthur's castle, and the hill might be... Bryn Myrddin."

"Two blood-related houses, with the red dragon presiding over both." Severus nodded. "It makes sense." He felt Hermione slip her hand into his.

"Have I gone too far?" she asked. "I mean, I know this must be bizarre for you..."

"Try surreal. Outrageously surreal." Severus turned to her and gave a small smile. "You've not gone too far. You rightly gave definition to something that should be stated as obvious. I... I think about the reasons why this image is here... in this place... and it makes me..." Severus shook his head, unable to put what he was feeling into words.

He offered his arm to Hermione. "I am afraid the guided tour was discontinued many hundred years ago. A pity," he said, looking around. "I would have liked to have seen this place when it was inhabited." He frowned, listening intently. "I can hear water trickling. Somewhere." He shot a glance at Tobias, who was aimlessly piecing together bits of broken slate. "Coming?"

Thinking that anything was better than being left alone, Toby wiped his hands on his trousers and followed them.

They made their way into the east wing, where they spotted Oriens and Auror Savage examining a narrow doorway partially sealed with rubble. A small gap near the top hinted at only emptiness within. Severus steered Hermione towards it. Judging by the thin ribbon of water seeping out over the flagstones, the room contained the source of the sound he could hear.

Auror Savage consulted a copy of the reconnaissance report. "I made a note of this yesterday," he said, nodding to the blocked doorway. "We didn't check it out: there was no sign of it being tampered with."

Severus narrowed his eyes as he tried to decipher the eroded engravings on the stone lintel. After a moment, he frowned. "I cannot tell if that was an inscription or an adornment," he said.

"Shift the stones if you want to," Auror Savage shrugged indifferently. "No harm in looking."

Severus and Hermione glanced at each other, then began levitating the stones into a neat pile to one side of the doorway. They both stood back from the exposed room, in which darkness hung like a curtain of musty velvet.

"You do the honours," Hermione said. "I shall protect you if anything comes out," she added mischievously.

Pausing only to roll his eyes, Severus cast "Lumos," and they all stood back in surprise.

"What the hell is that?" Auror Savage stood beside them, peering into the illuminated room, which seemed all the more derelict for having its neglect exposed.

"It has the look of... One of the ancient gods of this land," Oriens muttered speculatively. "But which one?"

Severus offered no response. Detecting no signs of magical entrapments, he made his way into the room with deliberate hesitation, testing each step before committing to it. Reaching the back of the room, he reached out and caught some of the water which dripped from a stone lip built into the wall. He examined the stone figure built into an alcove immediately above the source of the water. "And who might you be?" he murmured.

"Severus?" Hermione's voice made thin echoes which only served to amplify the sense of abandonment in the tiny room.

"It's quite safe," he replied over his shoulder. "It was a shrine of some sort. For this one, evidently," he said, tapping the time-worn figure on its slightly extended left hand. His questing thoughts collided, coalesced, and formed an idea. He exited the room and signalled Tobias.

Knowing why he was being signalled, Toby produced the Llygad and handed it to Severus. It was the only reason he had been brought along, anyway.

Severus took the object in his hand and hesitated for a moment. "I wonder if the Llygad can tell me anything about what is in that room," he mused. "If it can, it may be a reliable indication that its connection with this place runs a little further than images of red dragons." Smirking at Tobias' puzzled shrug, he prowled back into the room and stood before the anonymous statue. He looked it over again, committing what was left of its features to memory.

He focussed his power on the Llygad y Ddraig. Within its facets, a light played and swam. Severus concentrated with focussed intensity. Images began to form:

Blue sky, high clouds, bare rocks. A god – carved in stone and standing beside a mountain spring. The god's features were clearly visible. Severus had seen an illustration of the same god before, while researching a fifth-year History of Magic essay: Myrddin of the High Places.

An uncharacteristic whim commanded an automatic action: Severus collected a little water in his cupped hand. He drank a small amount and sprinkled the rest out at the statue's feet. He placed the crystal disc in the god's left hand.

Hermione started in fright. Auror Savage swore and sent an alert to his colleagues. Toby blinked and shook his head. Oriens drew his wand.

Without a movement, without a sound, Severus had simply vanished.