Chapter XXV: To Spinner’s End and Back

‘Are you certain that you do not mind?’ Severus had asked. ‘I cannot go myself, but I can send an elf.’

‘Of course I don’t mind,’ Morgaine had replied. ‘I need to go to Diagon Alley anyway. I can Apparate from there. It’s no trouble at all.’

She had actually been looking forward to visiting Spinner’s End, but as she walked down the littered street on the afternoon of the last Saturday in September, her cloak tightly wrapped around herself, Morgaine was not sure anymore if it had been a good idea. There was a dull ache making its way from her neck into the centre of her skull, and she was quite certain that the goosebumps on her arms had nothing to do with either the biting wind, or the shadow of the immense mill chimney which seemed to stop any ray of sunlight from finding its way into the narrow street.

Spinner’s End had barely changed since she had been there the first time, apart from there being even more boarded windows and more broken streetlamps now. Of course, Morgaine had not expected the street to be bustling with life, but after having spent the morning in Diagon Alley, the silence that hung over Spinner’s End was almost eerie. It felt as if all the light and any positive notion had been sucked out of the place. For a moment, Morgaine was tempted to pull out her wand and prepare herself to cast a Patronus Charm. It would not have surprised her if there had been Dementors hovering around the corner.

She paused some feet away from the last house of the street, feeling a soft tingling on her skin. Magic, she concluded. Severus’ wards were still in place, six years after his death.

Morgaine bit her lip. She had expected this, but still, it made her feel uneasy. Her mind told her that the wards weren’t supposed to be there. Magic was supposed to vanish with the wizard. Severus’ wards should have been lifted the moment he had died. Them still being in place defied the laws of magic.

The laws of magic. Morgaine suppressed the urge to laugh out loud. According to those laws, Severus’ wards should have disappeared. Should have. Just as Severus should have moved on. But the wards were still in place, and Severus was still at Hogwarts. Nothing was how it was supposed to be.

Morgaine straightened and approached the house, even though somewhat reluctantly. Suddenly, she felt that she really did not want to enter. She did not know what would await her inside. She did not know whether she was ready to face Severus’ past and to unveil some of the secrets he had kept so carefully hidden while he had still been alive. She did not even know what she was afraid of finding.

Her hand already on the doorknob, she cast a furtive look over her shoulder. The street was deserted. If she turned around now and walked away, no one would see her or ask any questions. But she would have to tell Severus why she had not dared to enter his house. And how was she supposed to explain the reasons for her behaviour if she didn’t understand them herself? So she tightened her grip around the doorknob and took a deep breath, tapping first her hand and then the doorknob with her wand. She muttered the incantation Severus had provided her with and waited patiently until she felt the knob turn in her hand. Then she pushed the door open and bravely stepped inside.

Why she even tried the light switch, Morgaine did not really know. This had been a wizard’s home, after all, and she doubted that Severus had ever resorted to electricity to light up his house. And even if he had, the house had stood empty for more than six years now. Of course, the lights would not work now.

‘Lumos,’ she muttered, but the tip of her wand did not ignite until she had cast the spell a second time. It was annoying, but Morgaine did not dwell on it. She was getting used to the fact that any kind of Light or Warming spell took her several attempts nowadays. Now was not the time to try and figure out why this was happening. If she were honest, she did not want to know either. Instead, she closed her eyes and let her mind wander back in time, to the summer before the Triwizard Tournament.

She had returned to Hogwarts a year before because Severus had needed her. It had been one of the most demanding years of her young life. She had not been able to tell him her reasons for keeping away. Dumbledore had make her swear not to tell Severus about their child.

Not that she had had the courage to tell him anyway. He had been in a vicious mood for the whole school year, with one of his childhood enemies – Sirius Black – on the run from Azkaban, and a second – Remus Lupin – teaching at Hogwarts. Severus had snarled and hissed, and Morgaine had kept away, seeking comfort from Remus and crying at his shoulder on those days when everything had seemed to become too much. But no matter how weak she had felt, she had waited in the shadows, and when Severus finally had reached out for her, he had not needed to go looking for her.

But still, they had not parted on friendly terms for the summer holidays. Maybe it had been her fault, Morgaine thought. Maybe she had not tried hard enough to understand Severus’ reasons for hating Remus. Maybe she had not tried hard enough to forgive him that he had let slip the truth about Remus’ condition right there at the breakfast table in the Great Hall. But at the time, she had barely had the strength to keep herself from falling apart. She had still been suffering from what her grandmother had chosen to call post-natal stress, and standing for a whole school year between Remus and Severus – her oldest and her best friend – had taken its toll. She had needed a break. And so she had chosen to go back to Iceland for the summer, and Remus had come with her. He had made sure that she would take her daughter into her arms, and after three weeks he had sent Morgaine to Spinner’s End. He had understood that neither her heart nor her soul were complete without Severus. He had understood from the very start.

She had arrived at Spinner’s End in the middle of summer, a couple of weeks before the World Cup, unannounced, finding Severus in his little herbal garden. He had been so surprised that he had almost dropped the Belladonna he had been holding. She had bought him lunch, and he had invited her to tea. They had spent many evenings talking, and one evening she had just not gone back to the inn where she had been staying. That night, she and Severus had found their way back to each other. And Morgaine knew that he had stayed awake all night just to look at her.

She did not even bother having a look at the garden now. Already when Severus had come to stay at Spinner’s End every summer, it had taken a lot of magic to make anything prosper between the cold brick walls of his backyard, and Morgaine doubted that any plant had survived. Most probably, even the weeds had withered. And dead plants were about the last thing she felt like looking at.

The sitting room, however, was not a cheerful sight either, not even when Morgaine had managed to light the candles in the lamp above the threadbare sofa and had gotten rid of most of the dust. The armchair by the fire had been Severus’ favourite place during his summers. He would have sat there, ploughing through book after book, anything from Potions over Defence Against the Dark Arts to Muggle poetry. He had loved reading. But now his armchair stood empty, and his books had not been touched for years. It was a depressing sight indeed.

Morgaine resisted the urge to pick a book and settle into the chair. She would probably get lost in her memories, and for that, she had no time. In fact, what she had come for could not even be found in the sitting room. What she had come for was upstairs, in Severus’ old bedroom. Not the master bedroom, he had made that very clear, but the room where he had slept when he had been a boy. It had been the only room she had never entered while staying at Spinner’s End. She had felt that she had no right to. And despite Severus having sent her there now, the feeling lingered. This was his room, his past, his secrets. She had no part in them.

The hiding place Severus had chosen seemed almost ridiculous. Actually, it did not feel like a hiding place at all. There was a loose floor board by the window, and all it took was a slight tug to lay his treasures bare.

Why had Severus not used any magic, Morgaine wondered. Had he not deemed it necessary? Had he, when he had hidden his treasures, not dared to use magic? Or had he meant for someone to find them?

The old, battered tin box had once contained Scottish shortbread. Someone, probably Severus, had tried to rid the tin of the tartan label but had not entirely succeeded. Even the price tag was still on. It had been on sale, two boxes for the price of one due to the expiring date having passed already.

Morgaine sat down on the bed and placed the tin on her lap, gnawing at her lower lip. Once more, she felt as if she were intruding on something very private, and she would rather not have opened the tin. But she had no choice. ‘Just take out the Gobstones,’ Severus had instructed her. ‘I have no use for anything else that this tin contains.’

With shaking hands, Morgaine removed the lid.

The first object that was revealed was a letter, bearing a handwriting Morgaine knew only too well. It was addressed to Severus Snape, and Morgaine did not need to open it to know that it was the letter young Severus had been longing for since the day he had been told that he was a wizard. It was his acceptance letter to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, the letter that would enable him to flee the Muggle misery he had grown up in, his ticket to the world to which he truly belonged.

Next, Morgaine found an old, yellowing Muggle photograph, ripped in half. It showed a thin, sallow looking woman with long, raven-black hair. There was no mistaking who this woman was, such was Eileen Prince’s resemblance with her son. In the photograph, she was wearing a long white dress and carrying a bouquet of white roses. And if one looked closely, one could detect the faintest hint of a smile on her lips.

The next photograph was a Wizard photograph, depicting the Hogwarts Gobstones team. All the team members were smiling and waving, except their captain. Eileen looked sullen, and she was scowling despite her holding a trophy in her hands.

There were other pictures of Eileen: in some she was playing Gobstones, in others shaking hands with Headmaster Dippet or brewing potions in what looked like Horace Slughorn’s classroom. Most of the photographs showed just her, and those that would have shown someone else as well, had been ripped in two, just like her wedding picture. Obviously, Severus had only wanted to keep the memory of his mother alive, no one else’s, especially not the memory of his father. In fact, the tin did not contain a single hint about Tobias Snape.

Under the small stack of photos lay a crocheted bag made of emerald green yarn, the bag Morgaine had set out to fetch. Carefully, she untied the silver string and emptied the bag’s contents on the bed with a small gasp of surprise. Whereas the bag was old and worn, the Gobstones were so highly polished that they almost looked like new. They must have been one of young Severus’ most treasured possessions.

After putting the stones back into the bag , Morgaine once more flicked through the photographs, wondering if Demeter would want to have a look at her grandmother. After all, Morgaine had never been able to show her daughter any pictures of her own mother. She didn’t possess any herself, and her grandmother had never shown her any either. But Severus had said that he had no use for anything else that is in the tin apart from the Gobstones. And as much as Morgaine wished for her daughter to learn more about her ancestors, she did not want to defy Severus’ wishes.

She was just about to put the photographs back into the tin when her eyes fell on a dried flower, and Morgaine paused mid-movement, a puzzled look on her face. Why would Severus keep a flower in his tin, she wondered. The only plants he had ever been interested in had been potion ingredients.

Then she remembered. Severus had shown her this memory once, a long time ago. The very first time he had spoken to Lily, the day he had told her that she was a witch, this very flower had sat on Lily’s palm, opening and closing its petals so the colours had reflected in the sunlight. It had made Petunia shriek in horror. And it had given Severus the courage to step out from behind bushes and tell Lily that she was a witch. She had not believed him that day, but had walked away from the scrawny, ill-groomed boy. And Severus, disappointed as he had been that the meeting which he had planned so carefully had gone so wrong, had picked up the flower that Lily had thrown on the ground. He had put it with his other treasures and cherished it for many years.

Morgaine picked up the flower, holding the dry stem between her thumb and index finger, twirling it, not sure what to think or feel. Of course Severus would have kept a memory of his childhood friend. It was the most natural thing in the world. But had Lily deserved it? Had she not treated Severus just like she had treated that flower? Had she not let them both fall and then just walked away, never looking back?

As always, the thought of Lily made something tense up inside Morgaine. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair that the ghost of Lily had haunted Severus for all those years. She had not had any right to. Not after how she had treated him.

Furiously, Morgaine blinked back the tears that were burning in her eyes. Severus had freed himself of Lily’s ghost. He had taken farewell of her when he lay dying on the dusty floor in the Shrieking Shack. He had said so. And Morgaine had chosen to believe him.

Then why was she crying now?

She set her jaw and hastily placed everything back into the tin: the Gobstones, the flower, the photographs and the letter from Hogwarts. The she put the lid back on and stuffed the tin into her bag. She knew that bringing the tin and its contents back to Hogwarts meant defying Severus’ wishes, but for the time being she did not care. For her own peace of mind, she needed to know if Severus had truly let go of his past.

~ ~ ~
She had not spoken to him yet. She had walked straight to the Potions cabinet, had taken out some ingredients and commenced brewing at once. Her eyes were narrowed, and her jaw was so tight that Severus could have sworn that he heard her grind her teeth.

Had Morgaine not noticed him hovering in the shadows, or was she blatantly ignoring him? Severus wondered, frowning. Neither of the two options seemed very likely.

‘How was the house?’ he finally asked, detaching himself from the shadows and drifting into the light so Morgaine could see him.

‘Just as dark and gloomy as ever,’ she replied, not taking her eyes of her cauldron. ‘Somewhat dusty.’

‘That was expected after all those years, was it not?’

‘Then what was the point in asking?’

Severus flinched slightly as Morgaine put down the ladle a little more vehemently than necessary. Whatever was the matter? Morgaine was never snappish, especially not with him. And judging from the shocked look on her face, her own tone had surprised her just as much as him.

‘Sorry,’ she muttered, picking up the ladle again to continue stirring the potion. ‘I didn’t mean to ...’

Her voice trailed away, and Severus gazed intently at her. Her whole body seemed tense, and as he tried to touch her mind he hit a solid brick wall.

‘What is wrong?’ he asked straight out. She would not tell him of her own accord, he knew that. He was also aware that she might not tell him once he had asked her either. But he had to try at least.

He saw her close her eyes and her shoulders slump. ‘Walking down Spinner’s End was like walking into Azkaban,’ she started, her voice barely more than a whisper. And with every world, her face seemed to become more ashen. ‘It felt like being surrounded by hundreds of Dementors.’

‘Then you should be having chocolate instead of brewing a potion,’ Severus pointed out. ‘Certainly, Remus has told you that.’

‘He might have mentioned it.’ The ghost of a smile flitted over Morgaine’s lips. Severus knew how dear Remus had been to her, and him saying something positive about the werewolf always made her smile. But today, the tiny smile was almost immediately replaced with a pained expression again.

‘Chocolate is no remedy against headaches,’ Morgaine stated.

As on cue, the potion turned light blue, and she added a spoon full to a goblet of water. ‘To good health,’ she toasted and gulped it all down in one go.

By the time she had bottled the rest of the potion and cleaned up, she seemed more at ease. At least, the muscles in her jaw seemed to have relaxed. But her mental walls were still up, tall and imposing, fortified against any kind of intrusion. And Severus waited. There was no point in trying to breach them by force.

‘Did Lily play Gobstones?’ Morgaine suddenly asked.

Severus stared at her for a moment, unable to grasp the meaning of her question. Whatever did Lily have to do with Gobstones? And why would Morgaine mention Lily at all?

Morgaine reached for her bag and produced the battered shortbread tin, and placed it on the table where her cauldron had stood only moments ago. ‘I was only wondering,’ she said and took off the lid. Then she retreated to the armchair by the fire, letting the open tin stand in front of Severus.

His Hogwarts letter lay on top, bearing Dumbledore’s slender handwriting. Beneath lay photographs of his mother. Then there was the bag that held his Gobstones and beside it lay …

Severus whirled around, and his eyes locked immediately onto Morgaine’s. ‘Is this why you asked about Lily? Because of the flower?’

Morgaine nodded slowly, her eyes never leaving his, and Severus sensed a small crack appearing in her defensive wall. If he chose his words carefully, she might just let him in.

‘Lily did play Gobstones,’ he began quietly. ‘But never with me. We could not play magical games in a Muggle town. And when we were at Hogwarts …’ He shrugged. ‘Let us say that playing foolish children’s games was not something that was appreciated in Slytherin House at that time.’

In fact, it had been highly discouraged, especially by Lucius Malfoy. Gobstones was a game for peasants, he had declared, and Severus, eager to please and fit in, had never once mentioned that he liked the game.

‘I never played Gobstones with anyone but my mother,’ he went on. ‘It was our secret. We could only play when father was not around. He caught us once, I was twelve. He gave me a black eye and broke mother’s hand. After that, we never played again.’

Slowly, Severus turned back towards the tin. ‘Strange,’ he murmured pensively. ‘The contents of this tin were once my most treasured possessions.’

‘Were?’ Morgaine asked.

Severus nodded. ‘All I have use for now are the Gobstones. I will give them to Demeter on her birthday. Hopefully, she will grow to become the best player in the castle. As for the rest … Did I not tell you that there was no need for you to bring any of it here?’

‘Not even the flower?’

Severus shook his head and concentrated on the flower to make it Levitate out of the tin. ‘Not even the flower,’ he confirmed. It had meant the world to him once. It had been a proof that Lily had been magical like him, that she had belonged to his world, that she had belonged to him.

How foolish he had been.

The white flower drifting through the gloomy dungeon chamber was almost an eerie sight to behold, and as it came closer and closer to the flames, its petals started to gleam red like the setting sun. Then it caught fire.

It was over in a blink of an eye, and once the flower was gone, Severus turned slowly to Morgaine. ‘All gone,’ he whispered.

Once more, ghostly pale eyes searched for a pair of blue ones, and the love Severus could see in Morgaine’s eyes was deep as the pain he could sense in her soul.

‘Tell me, Morgaine,’ Severus asked. ‘Tell me what is bothering you.’

Slowly, Morgaine nodded towards the fire, but her eyes never left his. ‘It hurt,’ she said quietly. ‘Finding that flower hurt almost as much as seeing your Patronus.’

Severus fixed Morgaine with a penetrating gaze. Almost exactly a year ago, Morgaine had been cowering in the very chair she was sitting in now, shaking with tears at the memory of his Patronus. And Severus had been so endlessly sorry. He had had no idea how much the shape of his Patronus had hurt Morgaine. Was she still unable to let go?

‘It is gone now,’ he said. ‘Both the flower and the memory it represented. It does not matter anymore.’

Morgaine took a deep breath, and for a second, Severus feared she would start crying. But when she spoke, her voice was firm.

‘Gone,’ she repeated. ‘You let go of your past.’ Then she gave him a sad smile. ‘I guess the least I can do now is to try and do the same.’

~ ~ ~
Hours later, Severus was standing on top of the Astronomy Tower, letting his eyes wander over the grounds. The lamps were on in greenhouse two. Pomona seemed to be working late. Severus craned his neck and saw her putting a charm on some delicate looking flowers. Judging by her wand movements and the colour of the light that erupted from her wand, it was a Warming Charm.

The windows of Hagrid’s hut were illuminated as well, and there was smoke coming from the chimney. Hagrid himself was outside, covering his precious pumpkins with a tarpaulin and then closing the window shutters.

Severus gazed towards the Forbidden Forest. He could not feel the wind, but he could see the treetops sway in the increasing breeze. He could also see the surface of the Black Lake staring to ripple, and there were dark clouds gathering at the mountain tops. A storm was gathering, the first of that autumn.

Sure enough, the wind was howling around the towers and turrets of Hogwarts castle half an hour later, and the rain was smashing against the walls with a force that made every living creature run for shelter. Every living creature. The ghost, however, was still standing on the ramparts. The weather did not matter to him. He did not get wet, and he did not feel the cold. If anything, he was enjoying the spectacle the storm was offering: the winds were whipping the surface of the lake, making the black water rise; the flashes of lightning illuminated the grounds and the forest, causing the trees to cast the most eerie shadows; and the castle seemed to screech and moan like the Shrieking Shack itself.

Yes, Severus enjoyed the storm. And even if he hadn’t, even if he had still been made out of flesh and blood and could have felt the force of the weather, he would probably still have been standing on top of the Astronomy Tower. He felt as if he had no where to go. He did not want to return to his study, not now that it was empty.

He and Morgaine had talked for hours, about everything and nothing, just as they had when their friendship had been young and blossoming. Every now and then, she had smiled, once or twice even laughed, and she had reminded him of the young girl that had melted the ice around his heart and then stolen it away.

Oh, yes, Severus loved her. He loved her enough to sacrifice his afterlife for her. But was it right thing to do?

Severus sighed. If he were honest with himself, he had known that for a long time that it was not right. Morgaine was still young, still alive. And she was wasting her life in the dungeons, in the company of a ghost. And he himself was not where he was supposed to be either. They were both keeping each other from moving on. Morgaine kept his soul from dying, and he kept hers from living. And Severus knew that Morgaine was just as much aware of this as he was.

Ha had not asked her to stay in the dungeons when she had picked up a stack of paper from his – her – desk and said that she would grade them in her quarters. And he had not opposed when she had mentioned that maybe his old study was a little too dark for her taste after all. And so she had left for the night, letting the plans of moving the Potions mistress’ study to a lighter location hang in the air.

Seeing her go had hurt, Severus had to admit that. And the mere thought that she one day might not return had hurt even more. But at the same time, Severus knew that Morgaine leaving and him staying behind in the dungeons was the right decision. Maybe, hopefully, it was the first step towards freedom.

For both of them.