Chapters 171-180

A Short-Cut of Death

‘No, absolutely not.’

‘Why not?’ Hermione asked. ‘This crypt would be the perfect solution. It is holy ground! It’s certainly a place of death. But since there’s a baptismal font, it’s also a place of life.’

Minerva agreed. ‘Yes, Severus—why not? It does sound like a sensible suggestion.’

Madame Dubois regarded the Potions Master thoughtfully.

‘Pomet may have been a dunce and never brewed a successful potion in his life,’ Severus muttered. ‘But I do believe he was right about the origin of the Sempiternal Solution. You should Apparate to the White Horse of Uffington.’

Turning to Minerva, he added, ‘And she shouldn’t go alone. Have an Order member go with her.’

‘I should like to come, too,’ Madame Dubois offered. ‘And I want Alina to accompany us. Professor Snape—before you protest, hear me out.

‘I respect the Order’s decision concerning the girl’s direct involvement. But there are Necromantic spells that may help Hermione maintain her connection to you. I know these spells; but on my own, I’m not powerful enough to cast them. Alina doesn’t know the spells, but she has that power.

‘I believe that the reason no one (with the possible exception of the Peverells) ever returned from beyond the Ninth Gate may be due to magical exhaustion after crossing the Nine Precincts of Death rather than the mere act of venturing beyond the Veil. If you can take the short-cut via the Death Chamber of your Ministry, this endeavour may turn out not as perilous as we fear.

‘But a back-up plan never hurts. Mr Weasley and Mrs Petrel can accompany us. If all goes well, it will be nothing but a rather chilly picnic.’

Harry’s face brightened. Severus scowled, but that surprised no one. Hermione was willing to accept all the help they could get.

‘I like that plan,’ Harry announced decisively. ‘Between Ron and Madame Dubois, Hermione, Lois, and Alina should be safe enough. And really, I’d rather have a back-up plan and not need it than the alternative…Minerva, I do believe that this is your decision?’ He looked expectantly at the headmistress.

The lines in her face deepened as Minerva turned to one of the windows. This was not an easy decision. Finally she nodded. ‘I agree with Harry and Claire. Severus—I don’t think this suggestion exposes Alina to unjustifiable risks. Especially if Ron and Ginny accompany them.’

Severus crossed his arms in front of his chest. ‘Yes,’ he admitted at last. ‘I think that is an acceptable solution.’

‘Great,’ Harry exclaimed almost cheerfully. ‘Then that’s all settled. How’s that potion of yours coming along then?’

Predictably, the Potions Master scowled at the overly enthusiastic reaction of the young Auror. ‘The Sempiternal Solution is finished. It needs a few more hours to thicken and settle. It will be ready for use in time.’

‘And do you think it will work?’

Severus glared at Harry. ‘That remains to be seen. Now, if you will excuse me? I should check that thrice-damned potion once more.’

He jerked around and marched from the room. Harry stared after him, looking rather like a kicked puppy. Hermione patted his arm.

‘He’s worried, you know?’ she said in a low voice. ‘About you, and about me.’

Harry frowned. ‘He’s got a very weird way of showing that.’

Hermione surprised herself with a small laugh. ‘Oh, Harry. We can’t all wear our hearts on our sleeves like Gryffindor firsties.’ She paused, then added, ‘Though—come to think of it—in his very own, cantankerous, contradictory way that’s exactly what he’s doing, huh?’

Her stomach sank when she realised that upon her return to this office she would have to bid her husband goodbye.

There was also a thought that kept niggling at the back of her mind. There’d been something strange about Severus’ reaction to her suggestion. He’d looked positively scared. What had that been about? Well, only one way to find out. She went to the door.

‘I’ll see you later, then.’

oooOooo

She found him in the lab, staring at the jar with the creamy, silvery Sempiternal Solution.

‘I know it may not mean much,’ she said, ‘but I do think it’s actually supposed to look like that.’

‘At least the cauldron didn’t explode,’ Severus retorted sourly. ‘Which is good; golden cauldrons are expensive.’

‘Hmm.’ Hermione bit down on her lip and frowned; she wasn’t quite sure how to approach her question.

‘Ask,’ he told her.

‘What?’

‘You want to ask me something,’ he said. ‘I know that frown. Worse, I know that sound—you’re chewing up your lip. Therefore: ask your question.’

‘Right.’ She inhaled irritably but managed to curb her temper. ‘Look, Severus, I couldn’t help noticing your rather vehement reaction to my suggestion. And I know that you actually like churches. While I agree that the White Horse is also a splendid idea, I’m wondering why you reacted that way. Almost as if there was something about the idea of me alone in a church that scared—’ She stopped as her thoughts caught up with her words. She blinked as sudden dread raised the tiny hairs on the back of her neck.

‘Severus,’ she said slowly. ‘Did…did the Church—the Inquisition—ever employ Necromancers?’

His fingers curled so tightly around the backrest of the chair before him that the knuckles stood out.

‘I know it’s absurd,’ he whispered. ‘Preposterous. “The robes. Not the wizards.” Muggles in robes who are not Muggles at all.’

Hermione shuddered as she recognised the words of the warning that poor, dead Colin Creevey had given her husband.

Severus spun around and gripped her shoulders, his black eyes boring into her. ‘I don’t think anything like that is even remotely possible in this day and age. But I also don’t want to be wrong about that. Therefore, I don’t want you anywhere near a church until I come back.’

‘Then you—you actually want to come back?’ she blurted.

‘DAMN IT, Hermione,’ he snarled. ‘Of course I do.’