Perelandra

Chapter Nine // Perelandra

"Have you ever wondered why Argus doesn't carry a wand? Magic would go a long way towards helping him with his job, wouldn't it?" the former professor asked, stirring a ghastly quantity of sugar into his Earl Grey.

"I suppose it would... But he's a Squib, isn't he?" Hermione asked, her teeth hurting from simply looking at all that sugar.

"He is indeed. Have you ever wondered why Albus would employ a caretaker, especially a Squib caretaker, when the house-elves are more than capable of taking care of Hogwarts?"

"Well... no... I suppose I'd never thought of that."

"Obviously," he said disparagingly. "There is a reason Albus set to you the trial he did. The world is a strange place, Miss Granger, and things are rarely as they seem. I am sure you know that Hogwarts has a 'magical standard' – Squibs and others of little magical abilities are not permitted to study there. It was not always that way, though. Formerly, any child of Wizarding parentage was admitted, as well as those Muggle-borns who showed significant magical ability. However, over the years problems with inbreeding among purebred lines led to Squibs. It was only a matter of time before one was admitted to Hogwarts. I can't remember when it was – a number of years before I started Hogwarts – but a Squib was admitted to the school. He was sorted into Hufflepuff and began his classes like the other first years. However, in his first Transfiguration lesson, his wand rejected him. Do you know what happens when the wand rejects the wizard, Miss Granger?"

"No, I didn't even know such a thing was possible! Mr. Ollivander told me that the wand chooses the wizard."

"And so it does – now. Your experience with purchasing a wand was very different from this young Hufflepuff's. At that time, your wand was chosen for you based on the signs at your birth – the position of the sun, the stars, and a number of other things. The wand itself was not thought to have any part in the choosing. This boy was given a very powerful wand, alder and dragon heartstring. Due to restrictions on underage magic, his first time using his wand was at Hogwarts. The wand, however, recognized that the boy could not handle its power, and it rejected him. In your time in Muggle school, perhaps, you heard of Newton's Third Law?"

"Yes, Newton's Third Law of Motion states that for every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. I don't understand what that has to do with wands and Squibs, though."

Snape took the lid off of the small jar he'd removed from his robes earlier and began massaging the green cream inside into the wounds he'd received from her animated lemon drops. As he worked, he continued speaking. "When a wizard casts a spell, a certain amount of magical backlash occurs – backlash equal to the power required to cast the spell. The wizard's magic absorbs and negates this backlash most of the time. However, when a wizard attempts to cast a spell beyond his abilities, his magic cannot control the entire backlash. It causes pain and discomfort, and takes some time to recover. This is why you start of with such small spells in class," he said, replacing the jar lid and hiding it once more in his robes.

"When a Squib attempts to cast a spell, they receive the full brunt of the backlash. They cannot handle it, and the magic harms them greatly. That is what happened to this Hufflepuff boy. He tried to turn a match into a needle; a spell which is thankfully not too taxing. He spoke gibberish for a few minutes and then lost consciousness. When he came to, he was told that he was not really a wizard and that he would have to leave the school. The boy's family, a well-to-do pureblood family, rejected their son. Having nowhere else to go, he went to Hogsmeade, wanting to stay as close to the magic he was denied as possible."

He paused to take a sip of his tea and then continued. "In Hogsmeade, he found that as a Squib he was a social outcast, and that coupled with the loss of his family nearly broke him. However, the Transfiguration professor, one Albus Dumbledore, never forgot the boy. When he became Headmaster, he implemented the current magical restrictions at Hogwarts. Feeling somewhat responsible for the boy, he brought him here and made him the caretaker. The boy changed his name to Argus Filch and has been at Hogwarts ever since."

Hermione was silent as she thought about the man she'd always considered to be mean-spirited and cruel. He must resent us so much... To be told that you aren't a wizard after you've hungered for magic your whole life...

"No wonder Neville was worried he wasn't magic enough..."

She hadn't realized that she'd spoken aloud until Professor Snape asked her to repeat herself.

"Oh! Well, in our first year, Neville said that he was afraid he wasn't magical enough to come. He told us about his uncle hanging him out a window and then throwing him off a pier to try and get his magic to come out."

"They what? Of all of the irresponsible, fool-minded... I doubt Dumbledore knows this." At her confused look, he explained "Forcing magic to come out that way is very dangerous. No wonder Longbottom is so hopeless. His magic must not be stable."

The Gryffindor in her rose to defend her friend. "He is NOT hopeless. He's the best student in Herbology in our year! If you'd helped him or encouraged him sometimes, he might not have been so bad! He gets so nervous that he's going to fail that he can't function... Professor McGonagall's almost as bad as you are; he's been terrified of her ever since third year... Professor Sprout is nice to him though, and he does just fine in there."

"It is not my job to be 'nice.'"

"And if it was, Severus, I am sure you would have been fired long ago," chuckled Albus, entering the room with Ron and Harry in tow.

"No, instead I was fired for killing the most beloved wizard since Merlin," Snape said dryly.

"Yes, but I got better, so all shall be forgiven. You can be reinstated as soon as this war is done."

"Albus, assuming that I survive this war, there are not enough Galleons in Gringotts to make me teach dunderheads. I loathe teaching, as you well know."

"I think anyone who's ever been in one of your classes knows that," mumbled Ron.

"Mr. Weasley, do not think that by virtue of not being one of my students that you can forget the proper respect due an older wizard."

"Yeah, but by virtue of not being your student anymore, I can choose to ignore you."

"Given that I know approximately 487 ways to poison you, 327 of them being incredibly painful, added to the fact that I could defeat you in a duel with my eyes closed... I would say that would be incredibly stupid, even for you," he said with a grim smile, cracking the knuckles of a long-fingered hand.

"Now, now, Severus, play nicely," the elderly wizard smiled and twinkled, taking his seat in front of the fire. "You have given me a wonderful idea! As you so appropriately pointed out, you could defeat any of them in a duel," here he gesticulated towards the trio, "with your eyes closed."

"I doubt that," snorted Ron inelegantly.

"Care to test that theory, Mr. Weasley?"

**

Thirty minutes later they were in a large clearing in the snow-shrouded wood. Dumbledore drew a circle in the snow with his wand around the two.

"Now, you know the rules. No Unforgivables, no permanent damage. Everything else is fair game. Severus, are you prepared?"

The dark man gave a quick glance around the circle, his expressionless face betraying nothing.

"Yes, Albus."

"Very well. Caecus!" Albus cast a Blinding Hex on him and quickly stepped out of the circle.

"Severus is now totally blind. Ron, are you prepared?"

Ron, who looked supremely confident about fighting a blind man, nodded.

"Begin!"

Ron began shouting curses and hexes, but none of them hit the blinded man. Snape was fluid like quicksilver given form and purpose. A Tickling Hex nearly struck him, but he threw up a shield without a word. After several minutes of this, he smirked.

"Really, Weasley, is this the best you can do? I was hoping you'd get in a hex or two at some point, but this is pathetic."

Hermione was thinking that Ron was doing a pretty terrible job, not being able to hex a blind man, when the loud pop! of Apparition sounded through the clearing.

Ron opened his mouth, perhaps to say something, but he fell gracelessly to the ground. His opponent stood behind him, fist still closed from the blow that had been delivered to the back of Ron's head.

"Severus! I said no permanent damage!" Dumbledore's eyes narrowed and he lost his customary twinkle.

"The damage was to his head, which is probably the least-used part of his body. In any case, Albus, you know that I can judge a blow like that. He'll wake up in a moment with a bloody awful headache, but otherwise fine."

As if on cue, Ron groaned and attempted to stand up.

"Ron, stay sitting down! You might have a concussion! Let me look at your head," cried Hermione, rushing to his side. She tried to remember everything she'd ever read about treating blows to the head, clucking over him like a mother hen all the while.

"Miss Granger, this is really unnecessary. As I previously stated, Weasley has a thick skull. Take this."

He pulled another bottle out of his robes and handed it to the redheaded boy on the ground.

"Thanks, Snape." Ron accepted the potion with a grateful smile. He uncorked it, but paused just as it reached his lips. "What is this?"

"I was wondering if you would ask. That is a considerably weakened version of the Baneberry Potion, and it is mildly toxic. Never take anything without asking what it is, do you understand?"

"Y-y-you just tried to poison me, you bastard!"

"It wouldn't have killed you at that strength; you simply would have been sick for a few hours. If nothing else, you have learned a valuable lesson today, have you not? This poison used fairly often among Death Eaters; you would do well to note its color and smell. They will not be as...," he gave Albus and Hermione a pointed glare, "...nice as I, and typically administer larger doses."

Ron looked at him oddly, but then broke into a broad grin. "Yeah, you're probably right. I won't forget it, but I still think your teaching method could use some work."

"My teaching methods are effective, which is all that matters. Here," he said, handing Ron another bottle out of his robes. Ron looked at it suspiciously. "What is it?"

"A standard potion used for treating minor head injuries. I am surprised you did not recognize it; Madam Pomfrey uses it quite often after Quidditch accidents."

"I thought I recognized it, but given what just happened I figured I would ask." Ron looked around the clearing for a moment. "Hey, where's Harry?"

Hermione stood up abruptly, her eyes joining the others as they visually swept the area. The Boy Who Lived was nowhere to be seen. "There," said Snape, pointing in the opposite direction of the cottage. "Footprints. Just one set, though. He must have wandered off, idiot boy."

Hermione was aghast at Snape's unconcerned tone. "Don't you care? Something could have happened to him!" She started to head in the direction Harry had gone, but a thin hand wrapped around her arm and held her back. She turned to look into Snape's endless black eyes.

"There is nothing in this wood that could harm him, nor can he stray beyond the boundaries we have set," he glanced at the sun, which was ending its trek across the heavens. "Albus, we had better send these two back through the gate before it closes."

She wrenched free of his surprisingly strong grasp. "No! I'm not leaving without him!"

"Miss Granger, he is perfectly capable of caring for himself. If he is not, then it would be better for us to know now instead of in the middle of a battle with Voldemort. You will leave without him."

Albus gently touched her shoulder. "Hermione... May I call you Hermione?"

She nodded mutely.

"This wood is a strange place. It is said to hold the last remnants of the Old Magick, the magic that first begat wizardkind. Over the centuries it faded from the world, until this was the only known place left. No harm can come to him here, and it is entirely possible, given who he is and what he must do, that the magic has called him. He will be fine, but Ron needs rest. Take him to Molly."

"Does she know about you?"

"No, she does not. However, in my will, I left her instructions to care for Severus despite what he had done. She has taken to that task admirably, and she will know soon enough. I ask that you continue to keep this silent."

Ron and Hermione both nodded their agreement.

"Good. Severus, will you escort them back through the gate? Meet me at the cottage this time tomorrow – for tomorrow, your lessons begin."

**

The Baneberry Potion is shamelessly lifted from the HP Lexicon.

Perelandra (a.k.a. Voyage to Venus) is the second book in C.S. Lewis's science fiction trilogy.