Ring and Revelation

Author's Notes: Huge thanks to my charming beta, Verity Brown, and to Lady Whitehart for her input on this chapter.

Chapter 20: Ring and Revelation

"How come the vinegar to wine thing is a Charm, not a Transfiguration?" Ariadne asked Rowan as they started down the stairs together, headed towards the Library.

"According to the book," Rowan answered, "it's because Transfiguration is about changing a thing's shape, and liquids don't have shape."

"That's just absurd. You change a rat into a teacup, it's a teacup, not a teacup-shaped rat. You can pour hot tea into it, for Merlin's sake. Assuming you aren't a sorry excuse for a third year, that is, and it doesn't still have a tail or something."

"I didn't say I agreed with it, I said that's what the book says," Rowan retorted. "If you asked me, they did it so there would be another class – they can't make everything a Charm or the classes would be three times as long to fit it all in, and poor Flitwick would be worn down to nothing."

"Don't let McGonagall hear you say that about her subject."

"Do I look mental?"

Ariadne laughed; it was good to hear Rowan's sense of humor perking up. Rowan had been subdued lately; Ariadne wished she knew what was wrong, but her friend had refused to admit why she was sad. Ariadne had some suspicions, but with nothing concrete to go on, she didn't have much leverage to pry with.

At the bottom of the steps, a figure in black school robes blended in with the shadow behind a suit of armor. Herman Boyle had just learned a new trip jinx from another third year and wanted to practice – and if he managed to send some girl arse over heels and got to see up her skirt, so much the better. He heard voices and crouched further into the shadows. He saw two older Ravenclaw girls descend into view. One of them had spectacular legs, which he wouldn't mind seeing more of. The other girl was on the far side and a little behind. The taller girl was looking at her feet and couldn't see him. He had a clear shot. He aimed and zapped her with the whispered jinx.

Ariadne heard Rowan gasp and suddenly go flying down the remaining steps to land in disarray on the stone floor below.

"Rowan!" She ran down, praying her friend wasn't hurt.

Rowan picked herself up with a grunt. She didn't know why she'd tripped, but while in midair she had been certain she would be seriously hurt when she hit bottom. Somehow her landing had been softer than she had expected. She was unharmed, albeit in much disarray. Rowan glanced around before picking herself up. Her bag had gone flying, her robe and skirts were around her hips, and Snape's ring had flown out of her shirt! She looked around quickly as she grabbed for it, but a boy's hand got there first. She looked up.

It was a younger Slytherin, third or fourth year. She'd bet anything he had tripped her, she thought darkly. She did not care for the interest he was showing in Snape's ring.

"This is a Slytherin ring; where'd you get it?" he demanded.

Oh no! Rowan blurted out the first lie that came to her: "It was my grandmother's."

"Your grandma was a Slytherin? Was she mad when you were sorted?" Boyle asked her with a sneer.

"No, she was a Muggle, all my family are. I don't know where she got it," Rowan babbled.

"Oho, so maybe she had a friend. Wonder if she slipped one past your grandpa, and that accounts for you." Boyle laughed nastily and let the ring drop on its chain. Boyle laughed his way smugly up the corridor; he'd found her thighs were quite as good to look at as he'd imagined.

Ariadne, meanwhile, had gathered Rowan's books and handed them to her after Rowan had finished straightening her clothes and dusting herself off. She looked curiously at the ring before Rowan could tuck it away. "I've never seen that before, Rowan. Don't try telling me it was your grandmother's."

Rowan looked up, at a loss. She didn't want to lie to her best friend, but the truth would simply not do.

"Is it from a boy?"

"Yes." Well, a male at least, Rowan prevaricated slightly. Snape's boyhood was well behind him.

"I thought Slytherins didn't date outside their own House, and definitely not Muggle-borns."

"They don't," Rowan answered, relieved to have an excuse to keep mostly silent on the subject. "That's why it has to be a secret – you know what they'd do to him if they knew!"

"When have you had time to see him? You're with us most of the time when you aren't in classes."

"I see very little of him outside of class, and in class we have to pretend like there is nothing," Rowan answered truthfully.

"Is that why you've been so down lately?" Ariadne asked her with sympathy. "It must be hard having to keep that kind of a secret."

"It's worse. We had this huge fight the other day. I said something really awful to him. I wish I hadn't, but now it's too late. It's just over," Rowan said, tears coming to her eyes.

"But you still have the ring," Ariadne pointed out.

"I offered to give it back, but he said I should keep it."

"Then it's not over. He still loves you," Ariadne said definitely.

Rowan looked at her friend wonderingly. How can he still love me, if he never did? Still, her friend's certainty was something to which she could cling. Rowan was not at all sure what she wanted now, but she was pretty sure being rejected by a man she found undeniably attractive was not it.

After dinner that evening, Rowan, Edgar and Ariadne sat around a small table in a corner of the Ravenclaw common room. After the discussion with Snape, she had felt too upset to talk gaily about her success with her project, so she had kept silent. Now that she had had a chance to absorb it all and was feeling better, she wanted to share it with her friends.

Shyly, she took the sample out of her book bag and handed it to Ariadne. Edgar leaned forward to see. They both stroked the soft fabric and laughed at Ariadne's missing hand.

"I knew you'd do it, Rowan!" Edgar exclaimed. "Snape can't fail you now."

"Well not for that anyway," Rowan answered. "Now I'd like to try repeating the process, maybe find a more efficient way. And maybe make a whole cloak: that would be so cool to have."

"Won't that take a lot of time? What about your plan to work for the Ministry?"

"Well," Rowan said carefully. "I could make a lot of money making Invisibility Cloaks. People really want them, and there's currently a finite supply."

Edgar looked startled. "That's right, I'd never thought of it that way."

"That's because we're all Ravenclaws," Rowan said with a laugh. "We only see an interesting challenge, not the implications of solving it."

"I guess that's true," Ariadne said, giving Rowan a speculative glance. "Hey Edgar, tell Rowan your plan for the thestrals."

"Oh, right." Edgar turned to Rowan. His eyes were bright, and he spoke in a rush. "I asked Hagrid if he'd let me take a breeding pair of thestrals back to the farm with me to start a herd. He wasn't so sure, since I can't see them, but I told him my mum and dad can and probably some of the farmhands too. We're in a pretty rural area, and they are great for getting around. You know, not everyone can Apparate or tolerates Floo travel well." Edgar's eyes flicked briefly to Ariadne while he was speaking, making it clear to Rowan whose comfort he was concerned with. "Problem is, they are going to be pretty expensive to keep, what with an all-meat diet."

"That would be just brilliant, Edgar," Rowan answered. "You could sell me the wool for my cloak business. That would make it more economical to keep them."

"That's a great idea! But are you really sure you want to do this instead of working for the Department of Mysteries? I thought that was really your dream."

Rowan struggled to explain without giving too much away. She was going to have to live with everyone knowing what had happened very soon; she wanted to cling to her anonymity as long as she could.

"Money isn't just about buying things. It means having more choices, being able to do exactly what I really want to, and not having to do things I don't like. You know, the Ministry really needs Invisibility Cloaks for the Aurors. If I set up the business first, I'll have a lot more leverage for getting the job I really want later."

Now Ariadne's speculative look was replaced with one of amused certainty. "That's an ambitious plan. You've been talking to a Slytherin, haven't you, Rowan?"

Rowan blushed. Edgar looked at her with a look of sudden understanding which made it clear to her that Ariadne had let him in on everything that had happened earlier. She looked at both of them; it was plain there were no secrets between them now nor ever would be. They had an air of easy understanding that she envied.

"Um, yes. But he's right. I could even sell the business later if I didn't want to keep doing it."

"And having money and prestige would make it more acceptable for a Slytherin to have a Muggle-born girlfriend, right?" Ariadne asked pointedly.

Rowan mentally thanked Ariadne for her amazing talent for handing Rowan acceptable excuses and nodded her agreement. She didn't have to fake embarrassment.

Edgar then proceeded to grill Rowan for information on how much fiber could be gotten from one thestral, how much waste there was in the spinning and weaving process, and how much yarn by weight would be needed to make a cloak. He then forgot the other two girls entirely as he busily calculated how quickly he could breed thestrals, how much he'd have to charge for the wool to break even and all the other myriad variables that could make or break a farmer.

Ariadne watched him for a while with amusement, then busied herself studying Transfiguration with Rowan until bedtime.

In the Slytherin dormitory that same evening, the young Herman Boyle was dutifully writing a letter home. This was a hated chore, but his parents insisted on hearing from him from time to time. His folks had made it plain that requests for additional spending money had better be included as part of an actual letter with actual information about life at school, i.e. whom he was spending time with and how his studies were progressing.

Nowadays, his father was in hiding. Herman didn't know the details, but there had been some incident over the Christmas holiday which had compromised his father – who had lit out just hours ahead of the Ministry Aurors. Come to think of it, he had heard that Ravenclaw's name at home in connection with it. Rowan someone, the witch's name had been, was it the same girl?

He thought his mom would be glad to hear he'd hexed her, and she should know the girl was a Mudblood; they had thought she was a real witch.

When Herman had finished his letter, he "borrowed" an Owl Treat from a skinny first year and took it off to the owlery to send it off.

Post owls being magical creatures with a special mission in life, neither Severus Snape's nor Albus Dumbledore's wish that this particular bit of information remain obscure in any way slowed down the owl entrusted with Herman Boyle's letter. His mother read it over her morning tea. In her indignation, she sent a letter in turn to her husband. She did not know where he was hiding, but the owl post always got through. Her husband was delighted to be given a piece of information which the Dark Lord would certainly reward and wrote back his deepest thanks to his devoted Lucretia.

Not many days later, Dumbledore was once again waiting up in his office until he knew that his Potions master had returned safely from his latest meeting with Voldemort. On hearing the familiar footsteps on the stair, he set out tea and biscuits.

The door opened, and Severus Snape entered Dumbledore's office. He appeared unharmed to Dumbledore's eye, but clearly something troubled him.

"Welcome, Severus. Sit down."

Dumbledore waited a polite few moments while his spy settled in front of the fire and poured himself a cup of tea before questioning him.

"Did you learn anything significant?"

"I did, but not anything useful to the Order. It has come to Voldemort's attention that Rowan's parentage is Muggle."

Dumbledore became instantly concerned. "How did that come about? It is no secret among the students, but it seemed unlikely any of them should have a reason to mention it to their parents."

"There was a mishap on a staircase; a Slytherin student happened to see the ring I had given her. She then gave him a story that it had been her grandmother's. He found that amusing enough to mention at home. His father is a Death Eater, one of the two who came here the night of the Solstice. The father is now in hiding, but his wife is in communication with him and passed on her son's remarks. He unfortunately made the connection between this girl and my affianced bride."

"And he told Voldemort."

"Which of us would miss such an opportunity?"

"What was Voldemort's reaction?"

"He was incensed that you would force me to marry a Mudblood. He was most particularly outraged that I should be forced to suffer the indignity of a Muggle mother-in-law. I tried to point out that I would find it considerably more convenient to be able to hex the battle-axe with impunity."

"I surmise that this did not resign him to the situation?"

"Hardly; he thinks it is beneath his dignity, as I am in his service. He said he would have her killed, as a wedding gift to me."

"I feared that he would take it that way. We must move to protect her."

"That would be wise. I believe we should fetch her tonight, at once."

"Do you think they will move so quickly?"

"Yes; once the Dark Lord makes his wishes known, there is a scramble among his servants to please him without delay. It is likely they are even now secretly searching the Ministry records for her mother's address."

"Then we will have to fetch her by Apparition, or we will be too late. I will send for Miss Bourne; we will escort her off the grounds. You will have to get a fix on her home from her in order to Apparate directly into the house."

Snape privately did not think she would care for that process with the way that things now stood between them, but there was no help for it. He told the headmaster he would meet them on the road off the grounds and departed to his own office via the fireplace. Meanwhile, Dumbledore sent a house-elf with instructions to quietly fetch Miss Bourne.

Back in his chambers, Snape stowed away his mask and straightened away the things he had left out when he had departed to answer the Dark Lord's call. Snape was not looking forward to the coming encounter with Rowan. Hitherto, it had seemed possible that the breach between them might have been reparable, given time. Their argument had shown him that his hopes had been misguided. She was correct; his position as a Death Eater would forever be causing her new pain, and he could not prevent it. Not until the Dark Lord was permanently defeated – and who knew when that would be. Severus had long since resigned himself to an endless wait before that swaggering, insubordinate, undisciplined child, Potter, scraped together enough power and cleverness to release them all from the Dark Lord's rule.

Now it no longer mattered how long or short a time that was. Rowan might, amazingly enough, have overlooked that harm he had done her, but she would never forgive him for putting her mother in danger. It was time to go. Grimly, Snape threw on his cloak and headed out towards the grounds.

Back in Dumbledore's office, Rowan entered behind the house-elf who was escorting her. She had no clue why she had been wakened in the middle of the night by the tiny creature tugging at the sleeve of her nightgown. Dotty had only told her she must dress and go to the master's office right away and to bring her cloak. Sending Dotty to wait for her in the common room, she had thrown off her nightgown and flung on her rumpled clothes as quickly as she could. Now she looked to Dumbledore for an explanation.

"Miss Bourne, I apologize for interrupting your sleep so rudely. It was, however, entirely necessary, as I am in need of your assistance."

"Me? What can I do?" Rowan asked in amazement.

"Professor Snape must go to your house to bring your mother here immediately."

"Why now, in the middle of the night?" Rowan felt a rising alarm which the midnight summons itself had not generated. "Is she in danger?"

"We have just now learned that it is likely that your mother may have been put into some danger by your impending marriage to Professor Snape."

"My mother? Why?"

"Voldemort is not pleased that one of his servants should be endowed with Muggle relations. I think it would be best if we could bring her here tonight."

Rowan was glad of that; at Hogwarts she would certainly be safe. "For how long?"

"I'm not certain. We may have to keep her in hiding for some time. I have just the place in mind, but I will have to go and prepare the way. Meanwhile, I want her brought here to Hogwarts. Now, this evening. That is where we need your assistance."

"You need to know how to get to my mother's house?"

"Precisely. Professor Snape will Apparate there and bring her back."

"Professor Snape?" Rowan said faintly. "She's never met him. Isn't there someone less ... alarming ... to send?"

"Professor Snape is the best qualified to get her here safely."

"All right, then." Rowan accepted Dumbledore's judgment, but she still wasn't looking forward to the encounter. "What do you want me to do?"

"Come with me now. We will meet Professor Snape at the edge of the grounds. He will learn from you how to get there."

Even Rowan's long legs had a job keeping up with Albus Dumbledore's brisk stride. They reached the edge of the grounds. Darkness had fallen long past, and the night chill had set in. Rowan shivered in her cloak, then jumped as a tall black form suddenly loomed from the shadows.

"Professor Snape," Rowan said, recognizing his outline.

"Miss Bourne," he acknowledged in turn. "The Headmaster has explained to you what we are doing?"

"Yes. He said you are going to go bring my mother here."

"Very well then." Snape stood before her and put his hands on her shoulders. Their weight grounded Rowan, making the midnight adventure seem less unreal.

"I want you to think about your mother's house. Fix it firmly at the very front of your mind."

"You're going to read my mind?" Rowan cried, alarmed.

"It is the only way I can safely Apparate somewhere I have never seen. I promise, I will touch nothing but your memory of your home."

"Would I know if you did?"

Snape looked into her face, at the worry there. She would certainly have thoughts she wouldn't want him to see. Still, he would not lie to her. "Very likely not."

Snape saw some of the tension go from her face. It appeared that the plain truth was the right way to deal with her. He was glad to know she would not have preferred a sugar-coating; he was very bad at that.

"I guess there's no help for it anyway," Rowan answered. She thought hard about her childhood home – its location, its appearance and layout. "Go ahead."

Snape removed one hand from her shoulder to retrieve his wand from its concealed pocket. Gently he touched the tip to her forehead and murmured, "Legilimens," while looking into her eyes.

Rowan felt the barest touch of another mind on hers; then she saw many views of her home through her mind's eye: toddling through the living room on her first baby steps and into Daddy's arms, falling down the stairs, pinching her baby fingers in the front door, playing in the back yard, coming up the front walk on her way home from primary school, hauling her trunk out with her mother, on the way to King's Cross Station, helping her mother in the kitchen on her last holiday home. It all went past in a rush; then it was over and the other mind was gone.

Rowan blinked and looked up at Snape; his eyes were still on hers. It was hard to see his features in the deepening night, but she thought she saw a softer expression than she had found there before.

"I should be back with your mother shortly. Wait here with Professor Dumbledore for us."

Rowan felt a whisper of air on her cheek and, without a sound, Snape was gone. She looked up at Dumbledore in startlement. "How did he go? I thought he would Apparate, but that makes such a noise."

Dumbledore's smile was apparent in his voice, even if Rowan couldn't see his face in the darkness. "Professor Snape is highly adept at Apparition. He can go so slowly, even over a long distance, that the air fills the space he was in, making no more sound than a whisper."

"That must be difficult; why bother?" Rowan asked Dumbledore. She herself had been happy to manage to Apparate with all her body parts intact. Silly details, like noise, were not something to worry about when you wanted to make sure your spleen continued to be an internal organ.

"There is a certain cachet, in some circles, to suit the sound of your departure to your mood." Dumbledore told her with some amusement. "On a more practical note, it is also much less likely to alert those around to your appearance if you aren't accompanied by a crack like a gunshot."

"Oh, I can see how that would be important to a spy."

"I wouldn't try it myself," Dumbledore told her. "I'd likely splinch myself from Scotland to Dover. Perhaps," Dumbledore added, apparently as an afterthought, "you can get Severus to teach you, when you are married."

Rowan blinked up at him and smiled wanly. That actually sounded pretty cool. What a pity she was unlikely to be getting those lessons.

Author's Notes: It is likely Dumbledore is not being entirely truthful with Rowan about not being able to Apparate silently. He does so at the beginning of Book 1. This is my explanation.