A Place in the World – Part Two

A/N:

There will be a short epilogue after this chapter.

King Arthur's knowledge of the secret between Sir Bedwyr and Queen Guinevere is discussed on pages 332 and 333 of The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart (1979).

The Domesday Book was compiled by order of King William the Conqueror and completed in A.D. 1086. It is kept in The National Archives, Kew, southwest London.

The Battle of Bosworth Field (Battle of Bosworth) took place in A.D. 1485 and was the last major battle in the Wars of the Roses.

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.

French – English (GoogleTranslate)

Exactement – Exactly

Extraordinaire – Extraordinary

Les heritage – Heritage

Mon Dieu! – My God!

Latin – English

Dominus vobiscum – The Lord be with you

Thank you, TeaOli, for the beta work on the second part of the last full chapter. Yes, we're getting there. As usual, I had a post-beta fiddle, so any grammatical messes were caused by me.

---

"She is absolutely useless!" Kingsley's pronouncement reverberated from behind the closed office door. Severus waited for a moment. Hearing nothing more aside from the sound of files being flung down in annoyance – and a conversational string of caws, clicks and croaks from the Minister's raven – he concluded that Kingsley was the only human in the room and announced his presence as temptation suggested he should.

"Nice," Kingsley grumbled, opening the door. "Somehow I knew it would be you."

Severus pressed one hand to his chest in a gesture of derisive sincerity. "Really?"

Kingsley straightened his outer robe and waved Severus inside. "I'd intended to tell you how relieved I was to hear that I didn't need to go looking for a new head of department, but that has taken the wind out of my sails." Partially smothering a laugh, he eyed his Christmas tree. "I must say, it gives me a great deal of satisfaction, but I'd thank you to restore the baubles on your way out. That noise would scar my sanity. How did you know I was referring to her?"

Severus allowed himself an unabashed smirk. "'She' and 'useless' uttered in the tones of one who is trying not to teach a raven bad words, followed by the sound of innocent files being roughly handled, could only indicate the involvement of..." Severus sneered at the products of his transfiguration. Several tiny, hysterically screaming representations of Dolores Umbridge fled helter-skelter between boughs, tinsel, and glass icicles – hotly pursued by pine cone-coloured centaurs. He handed Kingsley a secure scroll. "The details, as best I can explain them, of what happened after the Ukrainian Ironbelly took charge of my movements."

Kingsley took the scroll and carefully placed it on his desk. "Severus... What you did in Pripyat... Thank you." He smiled ruefully. "My congratulatory vocabulary seems to have deserted me."

Severus looked at the floor and half-shrugged one shoulder.

"I'm not amiss in saying that you've saved a great many souls from consumption." Kingsley stood in quiet thought for a moment. "Consider how many souls there are in the world. So very, very many."

And my soul? How would you answer my question now, Albus? "I didn't act alone," Severus replied quietly, considering how his teenaged self would have done anything for such recognition and would never have believed that receiving accolades could make one feel very modest indeed. "I can truly say that I had the help of Merlin himself."

"So you did," Kingsley allowed. "But where would Merlin's power have been without you to give it hands and voice?" Seeing that Severus was reluctant to dwell on the subject any further, Kingsley changed the subject. "How did you get on at St Mungo's?" he asked, somehow conveying both concern and an intention not to pry.

"Better than expected," Severus answered shortly and without recrimination.

Kingsley nodded, satisfied, and reached for a folder balanced on the edge of his in-box. "We made a thorough search of Umbridge's office and home and interrogated her again with a stronger focus on Arawn's Dementor research."

"Anything?"

"A few possible leads, but they were fragmented and hopelessly disorganised. I suppose I was grasping at broom straws to hope for anything more.

"We also searched Arawn's former office and quarters. I'd say that he had most of his information on how to disguise Dementors, and how the foul things can track a person by virtue of a consumed memory, stored in his head. We'll keep searching for a while longer." He withdrew something from the pocket of his robes. "But we did find something useful – to you more than anyone else."

Kingsley handed Severus a crystal sphere. "These are the memories Arawn took from Augustus Rookwood. In them were the clues that ultimately sent him in pursuit of you. You were around six years old at the time of these memories, completely innocent of what was about to happen. As you'll see, your mother refused to take service with Voldemort as the bearer of the Llygad y Ddraig, so he turned his attention to you. Rookwood, under Abraxas' instruction, placed a book in your house as a snare – a way to introduce you to Dark magic and to prime you for the time when you would arrive at Hogwarts."

---

Hermione backed away from the Pensieve, still holding Severus' hand. "Gods, Severus... Your mother was so brave to stand up to them. She had no idea that they would set their sights on you..."

"A stringy whelp. Indeed." Severus collected the memories and transferred them back into the sphere. "I'd often hear people say that it was my mother who taught me a repertoire of curses and hexes before I arrived at Hogwarts. It was a false assumption that, out of convenience, I did nothing to disprove."

"Sirius?"

"He was one of the perpetrators, yes."

Hermione paled with anger. "I'd like to know why he considered himself such an authority on how many curses someone should know!" She poured two glasses of wine and handed one to her wizard, which he gratefully accepted as he took a seat before the fire.

"Experience, probably. He was one of the Black family," Severus mused, with an absence of vitriol that surprised even himself. Crookshanks leapt onto his lap, purring loudly. "I remember the day I found that damnable book," he said dispassionately.

Hermione sat beside him, sensing his need to speak of the day that had opened his life to the influence of the Dark.

"At the Muggle school I went to, there was a gang of boys who would take great pleasure in tormenting anyone who they thought couldn't fight back. During my time there, several children were pulled out of school with broken limbs and smashed teeth. One even lost an eye."

"And nobody did anything? Teachers, parents, police?"

Severus gave Hermione a bland stare. "Do what? You'd first need to find someone who gave a toss. Best of luck with that."

And Hogwarts proved to be no different, Hermione thought with a deep sense of disgust at the Marauders' felonious behaviour and slick evasion of blame or consequence.

Severus leaned back and gazed into the fire. "At the time, I was smaller than them – and always alone. I could also read and write, and I enjoyed mathematics – I was interested in learning, which in those streets made you a walking target. I knew I had magic – my mother had explained that much to me and told me that I had to keep it secret. One day, they confronted me on the stairs at the back of the school house. Five against one. Their leader was armed with a length of lead pipe. I dodged his first blow by a fraction as the others egged him on. I wanted to stop him – and really hurt him. I was so angry, knowing I had power that they did not... and yet I felt helpless. Then my magic stirred. I didn't lay a finger on him, but I threw him down the stairs and ground his face into the gravel at the bottom. I broke his leg and took most of the skin off one side of his face. It wasn't enough, even though the rest of them fled – and one had literally pissed himself with fright. I wanted to know what else I could do to retaliate. When I got back to the house, I felt like I was being called. I didn't even think that the summons was a thing worthy of fear or suspicion. I followed the call because it promised to give me what I wanted. In the rafters of the attic, I found a book. A book filled with curses and hexes. Some of them written in blood."

Hermione turned to face him and rubbed his shoulder. "You never told your mother?"

"No. At the time, there was no living person I would ever confide in. You are the first to hear of how I found it."

Hermione stared into her glass, then took a sip of wine. "You told me what Lucius said to you about having to turn you into a proper Slytherin. He was instructed to continue the indoctrination – what chance did you have?" She shook her head sadly. "Augustus and Abraxas... Do you think they did something to Tobias?"

Severus shrugged. "It doesn't really matter now whether they precipitated his addiction or not. The susceptibility he has to alcohol is real and lasting. I think that even if he had a choice, he'd prefer to abstain from partaking of that which, he said to me once, had cost him everything." He examined Hermione's expression. "What?"

"I was just thinking... It's a good thing that Lily came along when she did. I know it went wrong later on... but you were still so young; maybe finding a friend made sure the Dark never got its claws too deeply into you."

Severus turned to her with a half-smile, true appreciation showing in his eyes. "You're an extraordinary witch, do you know that?"

Hermione struck a thoughtful pose. "Aren't I supposed to be some sort of know-it-all? Oh, before I forget, Mum has asked us both over to dinner next Saturday night."

"I'll reserve a space in my hectic schedule." Severus drained his glass and rubbed Crookshanks' ears. "I shall introduce you to Eileen, though I'd prefer to give her another day or two – I sense that her time spent in largely silent and exclusive company has left her a little fragile, in some ways."

Hermione quietly wondered if Severus would ever address his parents by anything other than their given names. But what experience does he have of being parented? The significance of those titles is probably lost and long gone. She tickled Crookshanks under the chin, smiling at the half-Kneazle's delight in having the ministrations of both his humans at once. But everything isn't lost. Is it, Crooksie?

---

Toby read Hermione's letter out loud again, then set it aside to examine the two wooden boxes that an alarmingly large barn owl had delivered along with the letter – in exchange for a whole rasher of bacon. Still lost for words, he handed the manifestly older box to Eileen – not knowing that Severus had sorted through the contents of the house at Spinner's End for nearly two hours before finding it and holding it aloft in dusty triumph.

He examined the box addressed to himself. "I didn't think Sev'rus'd remember me birthday," he said, sounding completely flummoxed.

Eileen ran her hands over the worn wooden box in her hands, then opened it, her eyes widening with recognition. "My green ghosts! I only mentioned them yesterday, and here they are!" She lifted each Gobstone from its individual satin nest, reacquainting her fingers with the weight and texture of every single one. "Happy birthday, Toby – isn't it your sixtieth? Aren't you going to open it?"

"Yeah, in a minute. I was 'opin' I'd miss this birthday," Toby grumbled, trying to disguise the fact that he was deeply moved.

"Why?"

Toby shrugged and yielded to Eileen's eyebrow prompt, revealing the contents of the box. "Crikey, get a look at these," he murmured, holding it out to display a set of smoky quartz Gobstones, each one magically set with a central core shaped and coloured like a phoenix feather.

"By the Word, we'll have to initiate those!" Eileen exclaimed. "Hermione wrote that she and Severus had found the perfect gift for you – they're fine pieces."

Toby eyed her suspiciously. "Initiate?"

Eileen's smile was utterly serene as she fingered the blue crystal disc containing her power.

Toby took a step back. "Can you access yer power at all?" He bridled nervously. "If y' can, don't go makin' another copy of me, okay?"

Eileen concentrated, sending her awareness deep into the lattices she had created so long ago. The protective charms barred her way – but seemed to recognise her and yielded slightly to her probing. Beyond them, her power stirred as though attracted by a magnetism that was not quite strong enough to draw it closer. "I think... No, not yet. I had to create this so quickly, remembering exactly how I did it may take some time. There'll be no extra Toby Snapes today, I'm afraid."

Toby nodded. "Grand. There's enough of 'em already. With yer power... Sev'rus said 'e'd 'elp in any way 'e could. Take 'im up t' offer, but try to avoid 'avin' yer mind read, if y' can. Y' might need to take the 'ealers' advice and gain a few pounds, too."

Eileen nodded thoughtfully, then looked at him sharply. "Mind reading? Oh, you mean Legilimency. Yes, you told me that Severus was very insistent. When it's involuntary, it can be quite traumatic."

Toby shrugged. "Force ten on the flog-you-senseless scale. But it all worked out for t' best."

"I'll talk to him about what he might be able to do when next he visits. Poor Severus – I spent most of our reunion crying all over him."

"I reckon 'e might've been expectin' it." Toby rubbed his eyes dismissively and took to minutely examining his new Gobstones. He looked up when Eileen spoke again.

"By initiating, I meant using them in a proper match," she said. "There's a games and rehabilitation room on this floor that patients and visitors may use. I'm strong enough to walk there now."

Toby relaxed a little. "In that case, initiate away; I'm up for it."

Eileen gave Toby a scowl of warning. "I can't make you an expert in less than a thousand hours of practice, but I think I might just be able to make you respectable enough to give those bettors a fright or two."

Toby scowled back. "If you're gonna get that serious, we'll need a wager to make it fair dinkum."

Eileen raised a challenging eyebrow. "Go on."

"If I win, you 'ave dinner with me."

"And if you lose?"

"I 'ave dinner with you."

Eileen folded her arms, her cheeks shading to pink. "Very well." She stared at the floor. "I should have told you long ago, Toby... I'm ten years your senior."

Toby waved one hand dismissively. "Sev'rus told me. 'E noted it while checkin' yer school records. 'E wanted to know summat about you, and there were none to tell 'im owt at the time. Makes no diff'rence to me... b'sides, y' don't look a day over sixty."

Tocky winced, pinched the bridge of his nose with both hands and shook his head.

Neither human spoke again until they entered the spacious games room, where a pair of young war veterans were getting the feel of their recently fitted artificial limbs by playing some sort of improvised ball game.

Toby kept his voice low as they surveyed the Gobstones platform set up in a far corner. "Next you'll be tellin' me you're a witch."

They regarded each other for a moment, each remembering when Eileen had "fessed up" about her abilities in a very different situation. An unspoken apology passed between them and was replaced by a sense of purposeful mischief.

"I am." Eileen unpacked her green ghosts, her black eyes flashing challenge. "Right. Line 'em up. I'm going to work you hard."

---

"Jean! This is utterly fascinating!" Andrew emerged from his study brandishing a bronze-clasped volume with a mane-like spine.

"What is, dear?" Jean murmured, thumbing through the BeWitching Weddings catalogue inserted in the Witch Weekly that Aluco – now a very fit and trim owl – had delivered with the morning's post. She was trying very hard to disguise her excitement... and more than glad that she had told Severus, quite some time ago, about Andrew's lapse into Austinian reveries concerning the exact situation for the asking of a certain question. Severus had enlisted her as a willing accomplice in implementing a delightful plan involving a very large hound – and her household preparations for dinner that evening were completed to the letter.

"Centaur dentition," Andrew breathed. "It says here that the central and lateral incisors, and canines, have the same form as in humans – thus allowing perfectly eloquent speech – but the thickness and composition of the enamel is what you'd expect to find in a grazing herbivore."

Jean flipped through some pages and unexpectedly came to the centrefold. "That's nice." She cleared her throat as her eyes drifted down the male subject's exquisitely muscled torso. "Well, Hermione did say that they're vegetarians."

"And further... Centaurs don't have carnassials! They have a short diastema between the canines and the first molar..."

Ooooh, he's moving... "My goodness!"

"But that's not all..."

"Impressive..."

"I'll say! They have four molars to each quadrant, and each molar has four high primary cusps elongated in an anterior-posterior direction..."

Oh! Hot flush for all the best reasons... "Very impressive..."

"This is classic selenodont! It's all here! Metacone, hypocone, paracone, protocone..."

Sweet eye-candy! Jean primly folded the magazine and tucked it into her bag.

"Jeannie? You look a little... breathless."

"It must have been all the excitement – I mean, your average dentist doesn't get to learn about centaur dentition every day."

Andrew handed the book to her. "And there I was thinking that the most extreme thing a dentist could learn was how to perform a root canal procedure on one of the zoo's lions." He looked his wife over. "You still look a little dazed, love." He eyed her concernedly for a moment, then set off to do what most attentive British husbands would do – make a nice cup of tea.

---

Severus smirked contentedly as he prowled through the Sunday afternoon drowsiness of Hogwarts' halls while Hermione revised for Monday's Potions N.E.W.T.

It had been well worth making Petal's better acquaintance during several lengthy discussions with Hagrid on how to best incorporate the appreciation of dragons into his lesson plans, even if it had earned Crookshanks' temporary displeasure – expressed with an interesting assortment of mice, rats, spiders, lizards and frogs that had ranged from still twitching to extensively mummified.

The gods had firmly sided with Severus when, on a frosty Thursday morning, the doughty half-Kneazle had restored proper order to the universe by marching into Hagrid's hut, confronting the offending Barghest with a mighty hiss, and dealing the cowed and bewildered beast a clawless swat on the nose. Hagrid, moved to tears by the investigative truce and ensuing friendship between the two creatures, had immediately accepted Severus' casual offer to Barghest-sit for a night.

Overall, I'd say last night's dinner at the Grangers went extremely well, Severus concluded, excessively pleased with himself. Actually, it had been a supreme success.

Between dessert and coffee, Jean had asked her husband to kindly fetch a book from his study. Unobtrusively, Severus had followed, lurking in strategic positions so that he would not be seen. Andrew Granger's yelp of astonishment at finding his study transformed into a library worthy of a gentleman's estate, complete with a mahogany table that, he had exclaimed, was expansive enough to require navigational charts, was Severus' cue to formally request a private audience. The unsuspecting dentist hadn't noticed that his favourite vest had been suddenly transfigured into an elegant smoking jacket, and it was not until Severus had hinted at the cut crystal decanter of port that he beheld a fireplace cavernous enough to hold several blazing logs – and the monstrous hound that snored lazily before it.

Perhaps understanding the importance of the occasion, Petal had conducted herself with the aplomb of an aristocrat and, having risen from her place on the hearth rug, had sat beside the speechless dentist with one enormous paw draped over his knees – effectively pinning the man in his chair while Severus couched his request for Hermione's hand in the most stately and sincere speech he had ever made.

Of course, Dr Andrew Granger had seen fit to grant Severus Tobias Snape all of the required permissions along with a blessing – and an enquiry as to how much Jean knew about the Austinian simulation.

A Slytherin never tells on a comrade in subterfuge – even if the truth is strongly suspected. Amid the multiple distractions of a truly brilliant piece of interior refurbishment, Severus had contrived to answer all of Andrew's questions without actually giving him a definitive answer.

Severus' prowling halted abruptly when he spotted a familiar, red-haired wizard ensconced in a windowed alcove, thumbing through The Quibbler.

"Mr Weasley."

George looked up, surprised. "Yes, but which one?" he asked with an only slightly lost glance to where his twin would have stood.

"Madam Weasley is still out of sorts?"

George tossed his paper down and got up. "Is she what! Dad's holed up in the Ministry and attending as many meetings as humanly possible. He tried coming home the night before last, but he got packed off to his shed – again. We're all in hiding, now. Except Ginny. Ron's bunkered down in Auror Headquarters trying for a secondment in Canada... I asked him if he'd be interested in running the shop with me, but he took off like a stray dog hexed in the arse – Ginny said that Sybill Trelawney cornered him in Diagon Alley. She prophesied about his waistline expanding and his hair falling out if he ever worked behind a counter. I'm running out of siblings!"

"Impossible."

"It's true! Bill is back in Egypt doing what he does best, Charlie's making sure the returned dragons have enough to eat and is setting up a new research program with the Tibetan Council for Dragon Conservation, Percy is a complete prong, Ron has been warned, and Ginny is far too spirited to be a merchant."

Merchant? "Have you asked your mother?"

George paled. "Evil."

Severus relented. The young man had released him from a choking hex and had brought Tobias to exactly the right place at the most opportune time. He took a deep breath and braced himself. "Belated, I know, but... I'm sorry about taking your ear off. It was an accident."

George grinned impishly as he cupped a hand around the general location of his missing appendage. "My what?"

Severus scowled. Apologies had never been his strongest suit, a failing rooted in the experience that people didn't seem to believe that he could be truthful or sincere. If he chose to, he could trace that particular sensitivity back to the time when Lily had refused to believe that a tree branch that had fallen and struck Petunia had been nothing to do with him. She hadn't even listened to his protests that he hadn't made it happen; his magic hadn't stirred. Even at such a young age, and wildly furious at Petunia's taunts, he had known when and where his magic flowed. He stiffly turned to leave.

George moved quickly to block his route. "Hey, look... Don't go all uber-git. I was just kidding. We all knew the risks; Mad-Eye made sure of that. We knew we'd be targets once we were Potterised and the chances of injury or death were pretty high. Harry told me how it happened, mapped it out on a chess board and all... now the white knight's missing a lug. It was an accident. I'm good with it. It's fine. You're forgiven."

Severus studied George intently. It was an accident. George's eyes conveyed nothing but certain belief that this had been the case. He ran a hand through his hair and restored his equability. "Thank you, Mr Weasley."

George put on a convincing display of speechless shock, then smiled sportingly. "I think Fred just had to go lie down. Merlin, I need to lie down as well... but I'll scrounge a pint from the cellars first. Care to partake?"

Severus considered the invitation for a moment, then gave a brief nod. For a short time, he walked with George in silent thought. "If you fancy yourself a merchant," he said, tucking his thumbs into his waistcoat pockets, "there is a small task you could do to buy yourself a little more time away from the wrath of Madam Weasley."

"I'm all ears."

Severus fleetingly quirked an eyebrow. "There is a need to find a suitable substitute for foetal Graphorn hide. It's been several hundred years since it was last used in book production prior to being made illegal, so I'm sure there will be something of comparable durability somewhere on the market."

"Foetal Graphorn hide?"

"Petrus and Madam Pince wish to coordinate a restoration project for a particularly old and valuable book. They've had no result as yet from their standard suppliers of restoration materials and will need to look further afield. Having someone who knows how to exploit an extensive network would be useful at this stage."

George pulled out a note scroll and quill. "I've got plenty of contacts for all sorts of weird and wonderful things. Gods, if it keeps me out of Mum's hex range then I'm the wizard for the job. Can you tell me a bit more about foetal Graphorn hide – history, magical properties, that kind of thing?"

"Certainly, Mr Weasley."

---

Eileen worked steadily, pausing every now and then to close her eyes and remember the words as she had seen them, then writing them down before they retreated once more into the past. In the pale light of a leadlight window, Petrus crouched on a plinth before a scriveners' desk while Cadfæl instructed him on the techniques of lettering so as to match the style of The Book of Nimuë.

She raised her eyes from her parchment and smiled when Toby and Tocky entered the room, followed by Cuthbert, the Fat Friar, Severus and Hermione.

"Eileen! It's good to see you again," Hermione said sincerely after the ghosts had paid their respects and glided over to examine Petrus' progress. She took Eileen's free hand in a warm gesture of greeting. "How are you finding Hogwarts?"

Eileen placed her quill in an onyx stand. "The sleeping arrangements in the guest wing are far superior to the dormitories, and the food is exactly as I remember it – though there seems to be a greater quantity and variety of puddings to choose from. And the library is perfection itself," she added with a glance at Petrus, who responded from the midst of his spectral audience with a contented nod.

"The puddings are probably Luna's influence," Hermione concluded, stepping aside as Severus ushered Tocky forward. "To attract Inkles, apparently. Puddings inspire them to interact with humans."

Eileen quirked an eyebrow. "Inkles? Are they a new species?"

"With Miss Lovegood's unique perceptive abilities, who knows?" Severus said, shrugging in unison with his father.

"Me and Sev'rus were talkin' over some of the things that 'appened over the past few months," Toby put in. "Maybe you can clear up a bit of a mystery."

Tocky straightened his pillowcase and tried not to look overly curious.

"Some while ago, Tocky was able to provide Tobias with information on Merlin's Welsh origins, his siring by a Muggle – a Roman – and that Merlin's mother was the princess Niniane, a witch," Severus explained.

"None of this was written in our lore books, so it was quite a revelation," Hermione added. "Tocky said that he was under a binding law – he couldn't tell any witch or wizard what he knew, but he could tell a Muggle. Not that any Muggle was ever likely to ask, but it happened that one did. And Tobias could then tell us. Fate or not, it was exactly what we needed to know."

"Tocky said that not all 'ouse-elves knew it... Only some," Toby clarified.

Eileen stood up. "And you'd like to know why that information was entrusted to some house-elves, who gave it to them, and why they were placed under a seal of secrecy."

Three humans nodded, one with a slight scowl at hearing a close approximation of the questions he had once levelled at his father's quaking house-elf.

Petrus waved three gossiping ghosts into silence.

"Merlin himself never had the service of house-elves," Eileen said softly. "When he was a boy, he was very much alone until he met his tutor, Galapas. He had human servants from time to time, as many of Roman heritage did." She turned to Severus. "The villa with its fine red dragon mosaic showing the kinship of Merlin and Arthur... It was built by Prince Gaius Lepidus, Merlin's grandson – and staffed by a goodly number of house-elves inherited from Merlin's son, Lepidus, who had made a point of finding house-elves left homeless by past wars and helping them settle with new families.

"In the years immediately after King Arthur's death, there were several lesser kings who ruled their lands with loyalty to the high kingdom built by Arthur and Merlin, but there would never again be a high king to match Arthur's vision and valour. Slowly, the kingdom and its internal allegiances began to weaken. As a result of an earlier alliance between Cornwall and Saxony, the last vestiges of King Arthur's kingdom were undermined and violently overthrown. That tragedy began with the murder of Eneuawg, a brilliant military strategist and middle son of Bedwyr – Bedwyr had been King Arthur's loyal friend since they were boys together." She regarded the three ghosts, who had begun to whisper between themselves while Petrus looked on in astonishment. "Gentlemen? Is something not right?"

"Not at all, Madam Snape," the Fat Friar said with a courteous bow. "A coincidence, perhaps... But pray, continue with your tale; our news can wait."

"Coincidence it is not," Cuthbert droned. "The facts are..."

"Hush!" Cadfæl scolded. "Manners before facts. Let our lady speak."

"Oui!" Petrus agreed, looking at Tobias with great interest.

"The Saxons returned in great numbers to destroy and plunder. Caer Camel was shattered and burned, graves and sacred places were violated. As if feeding from the strife and misery, the Dark began to gather strength.

"But the powers of the Dark didn't have everything their own way. Plagues tore through the land in several devastating waves, laying a great number of the population – wizarding, Muggle, Briton, Roman and Saxon alike – in their graves. Without convenient minions and starved of resources, the Dark was soon defeated by a guerilla force of wizards, witches, centaurs, and many other magical creatures lead by Ætius Gaius Prince. Ætius also had the help of Merlin's magic, through the Llygad y Ddraig, to plan and coordinate a successful expulsion."

"Not Prince Ætius Gaius?" Severus asked, quietly amazed at the amount of family history he would have to learn.

Eileen looked at her son, sadness showing in her eyes. "Times had changed, Severus. That which had been a royal title was safer to keep as a name." She stood and began to pace the floor, accepting Severus' offered arm with a whisper of thanks. "But the Dark had made its mark in a branch of our family. It was barely a century afterwards that the dragon mosaic was hidden, Merlin's harp laid to rest in his crystal cave, and the statue of Myrddin – the god – sealed away. I never learned what became of Merlin's royal cipher..."

"A red dragon on a gold field," Severus said, using his free hand to unbutton his frock coat and reveal the cipher affixed to his waistcoat. "Given to Merlin by his father, Ambrosius. It was hidden in the crystal cave sometime in the sixteenth century."

Eileen stared at it in wonder. "I thought it was lost," she said, reaching out to touch it. "You wear it well." She closed her eyes for a moment, then continued.

"When the villa was finally abandoned in the first half of the twelfth century, Octavia Anwyn Prince gathered the house-elves together one last time and told them the stories and histories belonging to those of Merlin's blood who kept true to the light. A great part of what was told to them came from The Book of Nimuë – with the exception of Merlin's physical appearance, which was strategically withheld. As their numbers were divided between family members, the house-elves were told to keep their new knowledge safe and alive, never to reveal it to anyone with magic in their blood, and to never speak of who gave that knowledge to them." She looked Severus in the eyes. "Through visions seen in the Llygad y Ddraig, Octavia knew that there would come a time when those histories would need to be told, but nobody knew how or when, or who would hear them. Also shown was a very real danger that the entire family would either fall slaves to the Dark, or die out."

"It was a near thing," Severus murmured. I was the last one to be born into the Prince line. I gave service to the Dark. I stood before the Veil.

"Mistress Eileen?" Tocky fidgeted with his pillowcase, his green eyes wide and sad. "Is... Is Tocky right to be thinking that if only house-elves belonging to Merlin's peoples is been told the histories... and Tocky's elfcestors is passing the histories to their elflings over many, many centuries and many different masters... then Tocky is really belonging to Prince family?"

Eileen got down on one knee to address the house-elf. "You're correct, Tocky," she said warmly. "And what was the Prince family is now bound by blood and..." She looked at Toby and smiled, colour tinting her cheeks as she seemed to forget what she was going to add. "To Tobias Snape's family."

"Then Tocky is in the right place! Tocky is come home!" Tocky pressed his hands to his face and wept. "After years of cruel masters who gave Tocky beatings and is stuffing elfcestors' heads, Tocky is being with true masters and mistresses! Tocky is most grateful..."

Hermione very nearly fished out her handkerchief to pass to the sobbing house-elf as tears began to leak between his thin fingers, but caught herself in time. She transfigured a scrap of parchment into a wad of tissues and gave Toby a hinting nod.

"Now then, Tocky," Toby admonished gruffly, seeing that he was required to take charge of his house-elf. "Use them tissues to clean yerself up – that's t' way. Y' know," he said as Tocky snuffled and blew his nose, "me old Mam used t' say that everyone 'as their place in this world, but there's some 'as to work a little 'arder and wait a little longer to get to it."

Tocky pressed a tissue to his leaking eyes. "Is Master Tobias found his place?"

Before Toby could answer, the three ghosts clustered around him. "Oh, by great grace I'd say that he has," Cadfæl said, sketching a blessing in the air. "But we can help you to know it better, Tobias."

Toby tried very hard not to groan aloud. 'Ere we bloody go. What now?

"We've traced your paternal family tree," Cadfæl and Cuthbert announced together while the Fat Friar nodded excitedly. "You go further back than coal miners and mill workers, my boyo," Cadfæl added cheekily.

"I... What made y' look?" Toby asked, baffled at the revelation that someone would actually be stirred to inquiry.

"Why wouldn't we look?" the Fat Friar asked. "We've little better to do – and you are Severus' father. We yielded to the temptation of curiosity and girded our loins to go on a quest."

Toby scowled. "Aren't ghost s'posed to be bound to one spot?"

Cadfæl paced through a desk loaded with books, earning a disapproving sigh from Petrus. "Oh, it depends on what one is attached to. If attached to a place, then that's where you haunt and that's where you stay. Cuthbert here was attached to facts in life, more so than this school, so he may travel to wherever his beloved facts lay. In life, the Fat Friar loved brewing ale. In all the realm, there is no tavern, cellar, or brewhouse – past or present – that he cannot pass through."

"Yet there is still no finer drop than my herbed harvest wheat beer," the Fat Friar lamented with a sigh. "The Hufflepuff common room used to be the castle's brewery, you know. I was in charge of its produce until the walls were reconfigured and the brewery moved to Hogsmeade. There are still signs of it for those who care to look – the round doors are made from old hogsheads."

"What about you?" Hermione asked the ghostly scrivener.

"Dominus vobiscum, dear lady," Cadfæl said, grinning from ear to ghostly ear. "My joy in life was illuminating that which would otherwise lay unadorned and unremarked, to place words on page with the same beauty and dignity with which they were spoken, and to find the things in danger of being lost and give them proper record."

"And what does all of that have to do with Tobias?" Severus asked, growing annoyed at the ghosts' tangents.

"Everything," Cadfæl answered dramatically. "Tobias, we followed you father's trail, then your grandfather's, and so on, through town and village of mine and mill, through cannon foundries and blacksmiths' yards until we got to North Yorkshire. There, around 1490 A.D., the trail vanished."

"We were at a loss for some while and searched the dust of surrounding centuries without turning up anything," the Fat Friar said. "But Cuthbert had a moment of inspiration and consulted the Domesday Book with the help of Kewpie, house-elf for The National Archives. We picked up your happily unusual family name there and followed several lines to the late fourteen hundreds, where we found that there was only one possible match!"

Cuthbert tucked his thumbs into the lapels of his robes. "From A.D. 1086, when the Domesday Book was written, we had to come forward in your family's timeline so that we could establish that we had the correct branch before returning to trace it back before the eleventh century," he explained. "The late fourteen hundreds were a tumultuous time for England; factual accounts proved hard to..."

"Bless you, Cuthbert, you'd put an archangel to sleep," Cadfæl declared. "Luckily, Britain has an abundance of ghosts who are very pleased to hover and chat. They don't get much of a chance to mingle these days, with all those carriageways and noisy wagons with blazing lamps intruding on their haunts."

"You mean motorways," Hermione clarified. "Are there really so many ghosts?" she asked.

"Britain is built on bones," the Fat Friar said, lacing his fingers over his ample, semi-transparent belly. "In fact, if you took all the bones out of British soil, the ground level would drop by three feet."

Cuthbert adjusted his teaching robe indignantly. "That is an outrageous conjecture."

The Fat Friar shook his head with a patient smile. "Our search brought us to the vicinity of the Battle of Bosworth. I decided I'd inspect the site of the original Blue Boar Inn – there's a modern travelling lodge built there now, no spirit at all – and happened upon a helpful young half-blood knight who had fought his last for the white rose. Turns out that he knew one of your people, Tobias. James Ellis Snape of the king's cavalry – the fellow had a real gift for training horses and treating their wounds."

"Your northerner forbears had a hard time of it after the Battle of Bosworth, which was why they laid low and left precious few records of their existence. But before 1485..." Cadfæl paused for dramatic effect.

Severus raised his eyebrows and stared at his father, who shrugged noncommittally.

Cadfæl hovered before a window, nearly vanishing in the streaming light. "We then toured numerous battlefields..."

The Fat Friar fidgeted excitedly. "With the help of some poor unfortunates walled up in what is left of fine castles and forts along the northern Welsh border..."

"And the Screaming Skull in Wrexham!" Cadfæl interrupted. "She had plenty to say about her tenth-century neighbours – though she could have kept her voice down about young Martin Carnwath Snape and how he avenged her murder with naught but a longbow and a single arrow. The Muggles in the guesthouse across the way were quite affrighted and called for the constabulary. We had to glide for it!"

"For you, Cadfæl, it wouldn't have been the first time," Cuthbert droned dryly.

"And when the Maker of All Things needs to extinguish the sun at the End of Days, you will be called forth to cast a great wet blanket over it!" Cadfæl retorted.

"Messieurs, s'il vous plait, if you could keep the voices down," Petrus reminded the ghosts.

Cadfæl recovered his scrivener's dignity. "We managed to go back further, Tobias... We followed your ancestors' footprints back to a knight of King Arthur's Table." He savoured the collective gasp. "None other than Arthur's best friend, Bedwyr. But there was a semi-secret scandal! He was the one who took Queen Guinevere as lover. Of course, she never bore him a child, but Bedwyr did have illegitimate offspring from earlier dalliances. The boys, Amhren, Eneuawg, and Bran, were each brought to court to be trained in arms and horsemanship on their sixth birthdays. Amhren fell by Mordred's spear at the Battle of Camlann. After Eneuawg's murder, and the beginning of a Dark Age that would only end with the coming of the Grail of Light, young Bran became something of an outlaw, leading attacks on the Saxon colonists and then vanishing with his men like shadows in the night. He would hide out wherever the land was hard and inhospitable – hence he was known as Bran of the Snaep."

Severus allowed Merlin's memories to come to him, feeling his vision shift into the shadows of his ancestor's past...

Toby shoved his hands in his pockets and looked at the floor. "Oops." He guiltily glanced at Eileen. Takin' up with royalty is a bit of a family specialty, then. "Some best friend... So it weren't Lancelot?"

"Oh, no. Lancelot du Lac was a revision inserted by the Normans," Cuthbert said, firmly restoring a fact to its proper place.

Hermione frowned. "Why do you say 'semi-secret'?"

"King Arthur knew of it." Severus said, returning to the present. "Even as Merlin decided to break the news to him, Arthur revealed his knowledge. He told Merlin that he understood Guinevere's loneliness and her longing for love – he was away from home so much and at Caer Camel only a few days a year. He said that he would rather have his queen lie in the arms of a known friend than seek solace with a potential traitor. If Guinevere had been able to bear heirs, it would have been very different and Bedwyr's life would have been forfeit, but Arthur knew by then that he would never sire a child by her – and the end of his reign was inexorably approaching."

Toby remembered what he could of the stories. "Was it Bedwyr who cast the sword into the lake when King Arthur died?"

"It was." Eileen said, moving to stand beside him. "Bedwyr proved his worth at the last and resisted a mighty temptation. At his dying friend's bidding, Bedwyr sent Caliburn, Sword of Kings, home through the waters." She looked at him wonderingly. "But I swear I didn't know he was your ancestor..."

"Yeah, well," Toby scratched his head, then affected a lordly stance and bowed. "Princess Eileen."

Eileen laughed. "Don't start that, please – it's not a title that I have any desire to hold or hear. From you or from anyone else."

"This is a thing extraordinaire," Petrus mused out loud, "how these ancient allegiances have held true over time and showed themselves in places – and in methods – most unexpected. But we should all give thanks that they did." He addressed Hermione, his ears pricked with interest. "Is Mademoiselle Hermione also to have les heritage researched? There may also be some wondrous discovery awaiting you, Mademoiselle."

"It would be our pleasure to do so if you desire it, Miss Granger," the Fat Friar offered, with an enthusiastic nod from Cadfæl and a thoughtful frown from Cuthbert Binns.

Eileen allowed her eyes to rest on the shifting gleam of sunlight in coloured window glass. Her Sight stirred, showing her a young witch clad in a robe of emerald green and a cloak of purest white. As Eileen watched, the witch placed the Grail of Light upon a stone set on the edge of a high sea cliff. Kneeling before it, she sang incantations as the Grail began to shine with a brightness that surpassed even the sun in high summer. Then the light faded, and the Grail vanished into the clean blue air, its purpose fulfilled. Still kneeling, the young witch smiled, then looked back over her shoulder to where her suitor, a Muggle knight, waited for her with a pair of horses... It is not yet time for you to know this, Hermione. But when you are ready, I shall tell you with great joy.

"I think Mum might have most of it done already," Hermione replied. "But should I need some gaps filled in, you are the first ghosts I'll come to for assistance. That's a promise!" She looked Petrus in his silvery eyes. "But what about you, Petrus... Don't you want to know..." She bit her lip. "I'm sorry, it's really none of my business."

"Mademoiselle Hermione, I do know what I am and how I came to be. Do I not have access to every resource that would show me the way? And I do not refer only to the books which I know you have already absorbed."

Hermione knitted her brows in thought.

"D'y' mean what you told me, Petrus?" Toby asked. "That you 'ave to search inside as well?"

"Exactement, Monsieur Tobias."

Hermione was sorely tempted to ask Petrus what kind of being he was. Her own research preceding Petrus' hearing before the Wizengamot had been far from conclusive... Though she did have some inklings, especially after pudding... But I did say that it was none of my business, she thought. And Petrus deserves to have his privacy respected just as much as anyone else does. She sighed as she took Severus' arm and steered her thoughts elsewhere. "Three treasures gone from the world... The Sword, the Grail, and now the Spear." She looked into her wizard's eyes. "That leaves the Platter of Replenishment."

Severus surveyed the questioning looks that focussed on him. "It is not yet time for the Platter to be found, and, Hermione, the Platter is not for me to touch. It must be left for those who are yet to live." He considered what he had Seen, knowing that some of what he was about to say was heavy news indeed. "I cannot say when the things I witnessed shall take place, but there is a time coming that will strike the Muggle world with torment upon torment. After great suffering, the wizarding world will be asked for help. When both of our societies combine without prejudice, then the Platter shall be found."

Hermione wondered what sort of world Severus had Seen. "One of our children?"

Severus shrugged. "The one who raises the Platter from its hidden place to replenish the Earth and soothe its hurts will be of our blood – yours and mine, Hermione – but it could be decades or centuries from now."

---

From the midst of boxes and open trunks, Hermione regarded Severus with amused disbelief, reminding herself that he had little experience of parental behaviour. "Oh, come on!" She said at last. "Your mother gave him a very discreet, congratulatory kiss... Tobias did pretty well to win two games out of five against Professor Flitwick, and the decider was a real cliffhanger. Take comfort in the panicked looks that went between Professor Schultz and the Headmistress when they realised that Professor Addams was going to clean up on the final points tally."

Severus scowled. "She didn't have to do it in front of everyone," he muttered under his breath, still haunted by whistles and cheers – and the sudden profusion of an appalling amount of mistletoe.

Hermione indulged a moment of wicked glee. "It wasn't as though Tobias responded by pinning her to the wall and snogging her breathless – he was quite gentlemanly, actually."

Severus stared at her, aghast. "Obliviate me now."

"Severus love, that's not the worst thing one can unexpectedly witness one's parents doing. Believe me, you've been lucky... so far." There was a knock at the door. She grasped his arm. "Sh! Here they are."

Severus schooled his expression into heavily starched formality as Hermione welcomed Tobias, Eileen, and Tocky into the room.

"You're nearly finished packing, then," Eileen observed a little forlornly as she gave Severus and Hermione a sincere, slightly unpractised embrace.

"It's getting there," Severus said. "Minerva would have me stay on longer if she could wheedle Kingsley into an agreement, but he's standing firm. And I'm more than ready to take up my role in the Ministry. There is much to do." He glanced at Tocky, who had newly attired himself in an old calico coin bag to celebrate the finding of his rightful human family. "How goes the restoration?"

"Very well, indeed. My memory of the excised pages has proved better than I ever expected – with a little help from the Llygad y Ddraig. Petrus then transcribes each day's work ready for illumination. Cadfæl is having a wonderful time teaching Petrus the art."

"We're nearly there," Toby added. He dangled a shred of parchment for Crookshanks to attack from inside a cardboard box. "Another week should do it, we all reckon."

"And," Eileen put in a little shyly, "after we've restored The Book of Nimuë... Severus, Toby has asked me to go with him to Australia."

"If that's fine by you, 'Ermione."

"Of course it is, Tobias," Hermione said fervently, delight shining in her eyes.

Toby winked at Eileen. "And don't be strangers, either of you. Them Portkeys're 'andy little devices."

Severus felt his mother's presence at the edge of his mind. He lowered his ever-present shields.

Don't worry, Severus. We'll be fine. You've done quite enough to provide for us already. Her message took on a note of amusement. Only a true Slytherin could have negotiated such a profitable sale of that old house. And talked Toby the Stubborn into accepting the entire amount. He's given me half of it, by the way.

Severus met his mother's eyes. Not being deceased, Spinner's End was always his by the law of inheritance. If things don't work out, let me know at once. As I told both of you, I have the resources to assist if the need arises. I believe that Kingsley told you the same while he interviewed you. "And how goes your restoration?" he asked out loud.

Eileen smiled and took off her brass crucifix. Placing it on top of a sealed box, she walked to the other side of the room and drew her new wand. "Finite Incantatem. I had enough magic left to restore it earlier on," she told Toby, "but I needed to be sure... Besides, it's nice to use a wand again." She smiled at her son. "I've gained enough strength to cast my Patronus, but its form is still a little indistinct."

Toby stared at the brass ornament that Eileen had worn around her neck for so many silent years, his eyes wide with astonishment and pride. He picked up the chain which now looped through a familiar brass ring. He held it in his hand as he searched Eileen's eyes. "I can get you a proper gold one, now."

"There's nothing improper about that one," Eileen replied graciously. "I'd like to keep it. In fact, I'll accept no other."

Toby coloured a little and shrugged one shoulder. "Ah... As y' wish."

Hermione busied herself with a scrap of parchment and quill, then blotted the result and handed it to Toby. "That's our address in the Ministerial lodgings. It's also where I'll be fretting over my impending N.E.W.T.s results."

Severus rolled his eyes when Hermione wasn't looking.

"We'll be there until we get a place of our own. Severus tells me he's working on it," she continued with a hopeful glance at her smugly secretive wizard.

"Your N.E.W.T.s will be outstanding, Hermione," Eileen assured her. "I was talking with Filius over lunch, and he was in raptures over your twelve-point proof for third-order concealment charms – he said it was a truly remarkable piece of deductive reasoning and that even if you hadn't answered the other questions, it would put your results in the top five percent."

"There is one thing that still evades my deductive reasoning," Severus grumbled, gazing fixedly at his mother. "I understand that the Llygad y Ddraig recognises the flesh contact of those of our blood and allows Merlin's power to flow through us. However, when Tobias wore the true Llygad y Ddraig on the night you made his golem, you accessed its power even though you weren't touching it. You said that you could do this because you were standing close to him and, you told Tobias, through a bond you shared with him. I confess to being at a loss to understand what bond allowed Merlin's power to flow to you so that you could wield it."

Eileen thought deeply for a moment. "I can't say for certain... Perhaps when we were married – part of our vows stated that we become one flesh."

"D'y' think it 'ad some magical component to it?" Toby asked, taking Eileen's hand.

"Not really flesh," Tocky offered hesitantly. He took a deep breath and placed his hands behind his back so as to hide their trembling. "House-elves is not supposed to be giving advices but... it is because you is been loving each others. Love is being powerful magic – it is being the essence of the Deep Magic which rose out of the First Fire. Deductions is never finding how and why it works. Love is making good bonds. Very powerful bonds. Master Tobias, Mistress Eileen, Master Severus and Mistress Hermione can all be knowing this without making reasonings and proofs. Love's bonds is letting magic flow, and love is magic that is lasting forever."