Chapter XXXIX: Finding the Light Again

Nervously, Severus drifted back and forth in Morgaine’s private study. He felt very much like an expecting father who had been thrown out of the delivery room and now had to wait outside, straining his ears to catch any sound from the other side of the closed door. But the sound he was waiting for was not the crying of a newborn, and the door to Morgaine’s bedroom was not closed either. Still, he didn’t enter, and he barely dared eavesdrop on let alone join the conversation between Morgaine and Demeter. It seemed so very private.

They had left the Headmistress’ office about an hour ago, and already then it had been long past midnight. But neither Demeter nor Morgaine had shown any signs of sleepiness. There was too much to talk about, and, of course, the girl had a million questions. And Morgaine did her very best to answer all of them.

At first, Severus had hesitated to follow when Morgaine and Demeter had left the office. For him, too, the news about Morgaine’s father had come as a shock. And then again, it hadn’t. If he were honest with himself, Severus would have to admit to himself that he had seen the signs for many years. Had he been brave enough, he would have added up two and two, just as Lucius had, and would have come to the same conclusion. But he had not wanted to see the truth. And now, it had been thrown into his face, and he couldn’t turn away from it.

Had the Dark Lord known, Severus wondered. Had he known that he had sired a child? Had he done so deliberately? Had he actively chosen the granddaughter of Albus Dumbledore to carry his seed? What had his plans been? Had he intended to use the child as a Horcrux maybe? The idea seemed at first absurd. But then again, the Dark Lord had been mad. Using a child in such a manner wouldn’t have been beyond him. And tainting the bloodline of his sworn enemy would certainly have been a triumph bigger than any other.

But did it matter now? They would never know now what the Dark Lord had planned. Just as little as they would ever know exactly how much Lucius had known, how much he had guessed and what he had intended to do with his knowledge. And it didn’t matter either. All that mattered now were the two souls in the room beyond that open door.

Severus could hear them whisper, Morgaine and Demeter. Sometimes he could hear a shaking intake of breath, as if one of them was stifling a sob. Other times he could – to his surprise – hear one of them laugh. Most probably, they needed laughter now. That innocent sound did not only drive Boggarts into retreat, but it was also effective to drive away the fear of the dark.

When silence settled over the room, Severus assumed that Demeter had fallen asleep and braced himself to face Morgaine. Surely, she would appear at the door any moment now. And he had no idea what he was going to say to her. Hopefully, she would have something to say instead.

But Morgaine didn’t leave the bedroom. Instead there was yet another whispered question, a question that tore Severus’ heart into a million tiny pieces.

‘What if I am bad?’

He had heard that question before. Morgaine had asked him many years ago, the night when they had discovered her connection with the Dark Lord for the first time. What exactly he had told her then, he couldn’t remember, but he knew that he had struggled to convince her that she was good. He doubted, however, that she had ever truly believed him.

‘Do you feel like a bad person, little one?’

Severus frowned at Morgaine’s response. Wasn’t she – as a mother – supposed to assure Demeter that she was nothing but good?

Demeter, too, seemed confused by her mother’s question, and she did not answer. Instead, Severus heard Morgaine ask a second question.

‘Do you remember what you told me when we were talking about our ability to talk to snakes? What did you say you would use it for?’

‘To do good,’ Demeter answered quietly. ‘Like saving people when they are being attacked by a snake. But, Mother, how will good intentions help if I am bad inside?’

‘Because it is what you want to do, little one. If you were bad inside, you would never even have had the thought of wanting to do good. Do you understand?’

Once more, Demeter didn’t answer, and Severus hoped that she was nodding. His little girl wasn’t bad, just as little as her mother was. And he prayed that they would understand, the both of them.

Another half an hour he waited, half an hour filled with nothing but whispers and the rustling of fabrics. Then, finally, Morgaine stepped over the threshold, carefully and soundlessly closing the door behind her.

‘Demeter’s finally asleep.’ She leaned with her back against the door and closed her eyes. ‘What if I am bad?’ she repeated her daughter’s question in a low tone. ‘No child should ever have to ask such a question.’

Had Morgaine forgotten that she had once asked that question herself, Severus wondered. She had only been a few years older than Demeter then.

‘I think you gave our daughter a very good answer, Morgaine,’ he said. ‘Up in the Headmistress’ office, when you told her to listen to her heart.’

‘I hope it will be enough.’

Morgaine pushed herself off from the door and started making her way through the room, lighting the candles that had been placed on various surfaces. Severus followed her with his eyes. There was no need to light the candles, as the fire in the grate was already burning. The room was both illuminated and warm. Morgaine was just busying herself, and Severus wished that she would have a seat and take a deep breath instead.

‘You did not tell Demeter everything,’ he pointed out after a while when he realised that she would not sit down. ‘You did not tell her what Lucius was really up to in Estonia.’

‘What would be the point of telling her something I don’t understand myself?’ Morgaine asked. She was standing at the window now, with her back towards him, and Severus could see the reflection of her face in the glass. She looked incredibly tired.

‘What was in that potion, Morgaine?’

She named the ingredients, one by one, and told him how she had brewed the potion. At the mention of snake poison and unicorn blood, Severus flinched. ‘A Revival Potion,’ he stated.

Morgaine nodded. ‘I know. And with Melvin’s blood, Lucius added the blood of the father and the devoted servant in one and the same drop. And with Demeter’s blood … Severus, do you think he would have succeeded? Do you think he would have been able to bring back the Dark Lord?’

‘I do not know, Morgaine. The last time this potion was brewed, the Dark Lord was still alive. All he then needed was a new body.’

‘What if the Dark Lord is not truly gone, Severus? What if ...’

‘Don’t even finish that thought, Morgaine,’ Severus interrupted. ‘The Dark Lord is gone. All that is left of him is his blood in your veins. And your blood does not define who you are. I am begging you, Morgaine, listen to your own words. Believe the words you want Demeter to believe.’

He saw her shoulders droop and heard that her voice had become thick with tears. ‘I want to believe, Severus. There is nothing I want more. I will try. I promise I will.’

She turned around to face him, her eyes glistening with tears of which Severus knew that she would not shed them in front of him.

‘Thank you for staying, Severus,’ she said quietly.

‘Were you afraid that I would leave you?’ he asked, stating the obvious. He had seen the look in her eyes when she and Demeter had left the headmistress’s office. Those eyes had been begging him to come along.

‘I was terrified that you might,’ Morgaine confessed.

‘Do you think that little of me?’ Severus knew that he should not ask. It was like kicking someone who was already lying on the ground. But he had to know.

Morgaine shrugged. ‘I would have understood if you had left.’

Severus moved closer towards her.

‘You did not leave me when you found out that I had been a Death Eater,’ he started. ‘Instead, you told me that a friend takes a step closer towards you and holds your hand when everybody else turns their back on you. And that was exactly what you did. You stayed. And I am not going anywhere either.’

For some moments, he just looked into her eyes. They were pleading for him to stay, begging for forgiveness and expressing an endless fear, all the same time.

‘I can see nothing I would want to run away from,’ he said, gently brushing her cheek with ghostly fingers. ‘Knowing – suspecting – who your father was doesn’t change who you are, Morgaine.’

‘And who am I, Severus?’ Her voice was so thin now that he could almost not make out her words.

‘You are the mother of my daughter and the woman I love. You are my best friend, Morgaine. Nothing has changed.’

‘So you don’t care? You don’t care that I am the daughter of the man who destroyed your life?’

‘He also gave me life, Morgaine. He gave me you, and I do not know how I would have survived without you. Now, please, let me be there for you.’

It was the only thing he wanted. Now Morgaine just had to let him.

~ ~ ~
From a distance, Morgaine observed the group of students at the edge of the lake. They seemed to be having a really good time. But then again, they always did.

The extra-curriculum Defence Group that Professor Siguri, the new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher, had set up had been a success from the very start. Students from all four Houses had signed up – yes, even students from Slytherin House – and now they met every Tuesday after dinner to try out spells and enchantments that were not part of the usual curriculum.

The structure of the lessons was simple enough. At the end of every lesson, Professor Siguri would tell the students what kind of spell or creature they would have to defend themselves against the next week, and then they would have the whole week to come up with a suitable defence. At the beginning of their next lesson, they would all share their ideas and then spend the rest of the hour trying out their methods. This week, Professor Siguri seemed to have brought along some imps. Either that, or he had put a Tripping Jinx on the whole class, because the students seemed to be tripping and falling over too frequently for it to be normal. But no one was complaining. In fact, Morgaine thought that she had seldom heard so much laughter coming from the edge of the lake. And she could not even start to describe the joy she felt in her heart about the fact that Demeter was the one laughing the most.

Demeter and Melvin had been some of the first students to sign up for the group, and according to Professor Siguri, Demeter was one of the most diligent. She was never satisfied with just learning one method of defence. Instead, she would always ask for more and practice until not even the foulest creature stood a chance against her magic. And after her lessons, she would always go straight to her mother and tell her everything.

And that was why Morgaine was waiting for her daughter now. The lesson would end in a couple of minutes, and she knew that Professor Siguri would tell the class to read up on Dementors for the next week. And Morgaine had a feeling that Demeter would have many questions on the subject. The girl might not remember her encounter with the guardians of Azkaban, but when she met them again, she might just recognise the cold feeling of despair. And Morgaine wanted Demeter to be prepared.

Sure enough, the girl started bombarding her mother with questions as soon as they had settled in their usual spot under the old oak tree: ‘Mother, what is your Patronus?’

‘My Patronus, little one, was a Wyvern once.’

‘What’s a Wyvern?’

‘A Wyvern is a winged dragon,’ Morgaine explained. ‘It is a fierce and violent creature, but also very intelligent. It’s a cousin of the basilisk.’

‘Sounds strong,’ Demeter pointed out. Then she frowned. ‘What do you mean, your Patronus was a Wyvern once? Has it changed?’

Morgaine shrugged. ‘I haven’t produced a Patronus for a long time. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.’

‘You need a happy memory to produce a Patronus, right?’ Demeter asked. ‘Don’t you have one?’

Morgaine flinched. A happy memory? By the gods, she would have to dig deep to find one among all the shadows in her mind. But surely, she should be able to find one. She had to. For the sake of her sanity, she had to.

Fortunately, Demeter didn’t seem to have noticed her mother flinching. ‘I know I will probably not be able to conjure one, but I’d like to try,’ she declared enthusiastically. ‘Please, Mother, will you help me? Will you teach me how it is done?’

Morgaine nodded. Of course, she would help her daughter. She would do anything to help Demeter learn Light magic.

‘What you need first is a happy memory,’ she explained, ‘the happiest you can come up with. A memory so powerful that it makes you feel as if you can fly. A memory that makes you so happy that it feels as if your heart is going to burst.’

Demeter tried. For half an hour she stood by the edge of the lake, her face screwed up in concentration, saying the incantation over and over again. But as she had predicted, nothing happened.

‘Don’t be discouraged, little one,’ Morgaine consoled her. ‘Your magic isn’t fully developed yet, and no one can conjure a Patronus on their first attempt. In a couple of years, when you have practised and your magic is stronger, you will be able to produce a Patronus. I am sure of that.’

Demeter looked slightly disgruntled, but she didn’t argue. ‘I would very much like to see one, though,’ she said instead. ‘I have read that just looking at one creates a warm and fuzzy feeling inside you. Please, Mother, won’t you try? For me? Please?’

‘Who am I to resist those puppy eyes?’ Morgaine smiled and ruffled her daughter’s black hair. ‘I will try, little one. But I can’t promise you anything.’

For some moments, she just stared at the wand in her hand. Birch, she thought, and closed her eyes. She and Severus had fallen in love under a birch tree, and under that very tree, she had also learnt to love her daughter, the daughter that now meant the world to her. She had to do it. She had to be able to cast the charm. But all that came from her wand was a silvery vapour. No Wyvern, no shape at all.

But Demeter seemed nonetheless impressed. ‘I want to try again,’ she announced, stubbornly putting out her chin. ‘I don’t care what you say about me being too young.’

‘Then concentrate, Miss Snape.’

Demeter looked a little shocked as the ghost of her father appeared out of thin air, but Morgaine didn’t even bat an eyelash. She had sensed him a while ago. He couldn’t sneak up on her anymore.

‘Come on, Demeter,’ Severus said encouragingly. ‘Make your father proud.’

Once more, Demeter screwed up her face and concentrated so hard that Morgaine could almost hear the girl’s brain working, and for a moment, she considered putting an end to the exercise. What was the point in Severus encouraging Demeter to attempt a spell that was far beyond her abilities? The girl would only be disappointed. But she never had a chance to say anything. Demeter had already spoken the incantation, and to everyone’s surprise, a silver vapour erupted from the tip of her wand, lingering for a few seconds and then disappearing into nothingness again.

‘I did it! Mother, did you see? Father, did you? Merlin’s beard! I can’t believe it. Oh, Mother, Father, thank you. Thank you so much!’

‘What are you thanking us for, little one?’

‘I used a memory of you two,’ Demeter explained in a tone that suggested that her parents were somewhat slow on the up-taking. ‘Well, not really a memory, but an image of you. The way you look at each other. It always makes me so happy to see the love in your eyes.’

She tried once more and produced another vapour, but when her third attempt failed, Morgaine didn’t let Demeter try anymore. Instead, she sent her to Gryffindor tower. Curfew was approaching, and even being the Potion mistress’ daughter didn’t justify being out in the grounds after hours.

‘You helped her, didn’t you?’ Morgaine asked Severus after Demeter had bid them goodnight and returned to the castle.

Severus nodded. ‘A bit,’ he confessed. ‘But I have no doubt that she might just be one of the youngest students to conjure a proper Patronus. She has it in her. So do you.’

Morgaine just shrugged.

‘Try,’ Severus urged her. ‘Try, Morgaine.’

‘Please, don’t make me, Severus.’

‘I will not force you, Morgaine. I just think conjuring a Patronus will be a good remedy.’

‘And if I fail again?’

‘You won’t.’

She gave in, and once more, Morgaine contemplated her wand. She had done a lot of good with it, she had to admit that. And just because Lucius had had it in his possession for a couple of days didn’t mean that it was tainted now. Just as little as being the Dark Lord’s daughter made her a dark witch. This was her life. Her magic. Her choice.

It was just a vapour at first, not quite as pale as Demeter’s had been but a vapour after all, and feeling discouraged, Morgaine considered giving up. But then she felt something. It felt like the warmth of the spring sun on frostbitten cheeks, like the caress of a mother and the kiss of a lover, all at once. And her mind filled with images she had not seen for a long time.

Hogwarts, seen through the eyes of a fourteen-year-old girl, who felt as if she were finally coming home.

A light-blue potion that captured the Potion master’s curiosity and eventually his heart.

An armchair by a crackling fire in the dungeons, a chessboard and a steaming cup of tea.

A pair of obsidian black eyes that looked at her with a warmth they held for no one else.

A dark-haired baby girl reaching out her little arms towards her Mother.

And a ghost who stood firmly by her side and promised to wait for her.

Tears welled up in Morgaine’s eyes, and as she felt the ice around her heart melt, she once more cast the incantation.

‘Expecto Patronum.’

She merely whispered, afraid that talking aloud would chase the images away. But they stayed, attached themselves firmly to her heart, and the serpent rose majestically into the air, proudly baring its fangs before wrapping itself protectively around the woman and the ghost that were standing by the edge of the lake. Then it dissolved into thin air, leaving Morgaine with tears on her cheeks and a smile in her eyes. And Severus took her hand, squeezing it so tightly that she truly believed that his hand was made out of flesh and bones.

‘Welcome home, Morgaine of the Lake,’ he said softly. ‘Welcome home.’