The Everlasting Day

18

It is not in the stars to hold our destiny but in ourselves. - William Shakespeare

Erytheia Snape had been staying at Hogwarts for just over two weeks when it first happened.

It may have happened before, but there was far too much going on around her for her to have noticed much about anything else. Everything else was so strange too...and new and exciting...

* * *

After that night at the church, the people she had come to know as Sirius, Lupin, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had all been taken to one of the strangest places she had ever seen in her life other than Hogwarts - St Mungo's Hospital. Of course, Malfoy, Crabbe and Goyle had been taken to the secure wing straight away and she hadn't seen them later, and she dearly hoped that she never would again. But she had been permitted to follow her father as he had accompanied Lupin and Sirius up to the emergencies department where a team of medical wizards and witches fussed over them for several hours, particularly Sirius who had turned the colour of wet chalk; a stark contrast to the blood that had soaked through the sheets covering him.

Erytheia didn't think she would ever forget the sight of him...she had never seen so much blood in all her life. Neither had her Aunt Ariadne, judging by the look on her face and her heart-rending screech of horror as she'd seen Sirius being taken into a private room. It had taken several cups of tea and much reassurance from her father before her aunt had eventually stopped sobbing and crying for long enough for her to be introduced.

She had often heard her father talking about his sister and had seen a few photographs of her at home, but, as Ariadne hadn't been on speaking terms with her family for over twelve years, Erytheia had never expected to meet her. She had liked her aunt very much, despite the terrible fear for Sirius that had drained all the colour from her face and the puffiness that surrounded her eyes. She knew how her aunt felt - after all, Sirius had saved her life. Goodness knows what would have happened to her if he hadn't stopped Malfoy.

Sirius had remained at St Mungo's for a week afterwards and Erytheia had accompanied her father, her aunt and Lupin every day when they'd gone to visit him. She'd felt as though it was her duty to do so. Besides, she liked Sirius as much as she liked her aunt. Although she'd been wary of him at the church, she soon came to realise that not only was he very good-looking for an older man - she was quite jealous of her aunt Ariadne - but he was also great fun to be around. He made her laugh; he told her outrageous stories about the things that he and Buckbeak had gotten up to while they'd been on the run from the Ministry; he told her about his days at Hogwarts with the other Marauders and he even told her about Harry. Erytheia had very much liked the sound of him. From the things Sirius told her, she thought that she and Harry would get on very well - they both had the same stubborn disregard for rules, especially if they didn't make sense to them personally; a love for adventure; a habit of getting into trouble; being too curious for their own good, not to mention independence streaks a mile wide. She looked forward to meeting him as soon as Sirius was allowed to bring him back to Hogwarts.

Lupin had been wonderful with her too. She simply couldn't understand why people were afraid of him, even knowing that he was a werewolf. She found him fascinating and she nagged him constantly about every gory detail of his transformations until even Sirius had begun to roll his eyes, raise his hands in the air and walk off in defeat as the word 'lycanthropy' was mentioned for the billionth time. Lupin didn't have quite the raucous, mischievous sense of humour that Sirius had, but she liked him very much for different reasons. He had taken her on a guided tour around Hogwarts, showing her everything from the topmost Astronomy Tower to the dungeons and from the Quidditch Pitch to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, at every step answering all her questions with the inexhaustible patience of the teacher he had once been. And there had been many questions, because Erytheia had never seen a place like Hogwarts in all her life. She thought it was the most wonderful, exciting, strange and frightening experience she had ever had and she wished more than anything that she hadn't been born a Squib so that she might have had the chance to come here to such a beautiful old castle instead of having to go to the stuffy, run-down, cash-starved Muggle comprehensive school she attended.

But she also appreciated her father's reasons for wanting to protect her - she understood them now more than ever...having been face to face with the evil that had touched him so long ago. The evil that had robbed her of her mother and put those dark shadows beneath her father's eyes...

* * *

Her mother was on her mind as she sat by the edge of the lake on a particularly beautiful August morning, skipping stones across the glassy surface of the water. She wondered if her mother had ever sat here, on this spot...if she had ever skipped stones like this...if she had ever seen Hogwarts and marvelled at it the way Erytheia did...

And if she had been in any pain when she had died...terrific, incredible pain such as that which had touched Erytheia at the church...

For the first time, she had experienced just a taste of how different her life might have been had her mother lived. She had never yearned for her fathers' or grandparents' abilities, nor had she ever experienced a burning desire to see the world her father lived in. He had always told her how dull it was, how much he hated it, how tediously dim-witted the students were, how much he preferred to be there, in her world, with her. She understood that now too. She understood his fear...his deep resentment of the magical world that had robbed not only his daughter of her mother, but also himself of a dearly loved wife. No wonder he had always seemed so lonely...lonely in a way that she was far too young yet to fully appreciate. He needed her within his world far more than even he realised, especially now.

And she needed him more than ever now too.

Everything he had ever done to protect her, everything her mother had done...all the sacrifices they had made...and it had all been for nothing. The dark forces that her mother died to save her from had found her at last. She knew that they would use her to hurt her father who had betrayed them not once now, but twice.

But it was too late to worry about it...nothing could change that now.

She sighed as she picked up another tide-smoothed stone and ran her finger over its silky, damp surface before angling it towards the water. It skipped once, twice, three times...casting ripples in its wake over the golden surface of the lake that mirrored the fire of the rising sun above the dark, brooding silhouettes of the mist-draped mountains in the distance.

Then it boomeranged around in a wide arc and began to skip back towards her, landing with a heavy thud beside her.

She only realised that her mouth was hanging open when her throat began to feel dry. She closed it, licking her cracked lips as she stared down at the stone. She swallowed thickly and looked around, half expecting Sirius, Ariadne, Lupin or even her father to leap out from behind a tree and exclaim, 'A-ha! Gotcha!'

But no one did.

'Sirius?' she called hesitantly. 'Ha ha, Sirius...come on...you can come out now. It wasn't funny... Remus?'

But still no one came. Her voice echoed back to her from the valley walls.

She shook her head in disbelief. It couldn't be. It was ridiculous. Maybe the stones and the very water around the lake was magical too...maybe it was just a game that the landscape liked to play on Squibs and Muggles to scare them off from the ramshackle ruin that they would see if they were to happen across Hogwarts. She could see it, yes, but that's only because her father was there...because she'd been brought there by others...

She'd eaten too much for breakfast that morning...that's all. Too much eating could do that to you, she thought reasonably. Wasn't that what Mr Scrooge said to Mr Marley's ghost in 'A Christmas Carol'? She remembered reading that book a while ago...a bit of undigested beef...made you hallucinate.

But she hadn't had any beef.

There was nothing else for it. She picked up the stone again, scratching her initials into the slime that slicked its surface, just for her to be sure, should it return to her again, that it was definitely the same stone. She stood up, angled the stone to the water again and threw it. It skipped again, in ever decreasing arcs. Once...twice...three times...then skittered around in a semi circle and skipped once, twice, three times back towards her, hitting her squarely in the thigh.

'Ow!' she exclaimed, rubbing her leg. She fell back down onto the grassy slope, picked up the stone and threw it over-arm into the water where it landed with a deep, echoing plop. It didn't return to her again. 'Holy sh...' she murmured, staring into the water as the cascading ripples finally stopped. 'Sirius! If that's you, I'll...I'll...' But she couldn't think of anything strong enough to do to him. Besides, she wasn't so sure it was him anyway. It didn't seem his style somehow. He'd have been only too happy to claim the responsibility, and the credit.

She sat and gazed at the lake for a while, still expecting the stone to come hurtling back towards her, but it never did. She wanted to throw another stone, just to see one more time, but she was half-afraid that if she did, nothing strange would happen again and she knew that if it didn't, then she'd be disappointed. At least now she had the fluttering of excitement stirring within her and she wasn't ready to let that feeling die off just yet. So, she picked herself up, brushed the bits of grass from her jeans and ran back up the slope towards the castle.

* * *

'Dad!' she panted as she practically fell through the doorway to his chambers.

Snape was sitting in his armchair beside the roaring fire - which was necessary down in the damp chill of the dungeons even in summer. He had been reading and sipping from a glass of Firewhisky as she came blustering in, but he still smiled warmly at her. 'Ah, Eryl...so nice of you to knock,' he teased as he put the book and the glass down on the table beside him and gestured for her to sit down.

'Sorry...but there's something...something just happened and I...'

'All right, Eryl. Calm down. Catch your breath. Everything's all right, isn't it?'

She nodded just to reassure him that Hogwarts wasn't under attack and that aliens hadn't just landed on the Quidditch Pitch - she was powerless for a while to do anything but nod as she wheezed and panted, bent over with a stitch in her side, trying to catch her breath. Snape just sat there, smiling patiently at her while he conjured her up a glass of pumpkin juice and a cauldron cake.

'What's that?' she managed to say eventually, her nose crinkling as she looked apprehensively at the orange liquid.

'Pumpkin juice,' he replied, 'try it. It's good for you.'

Her nose was still crinkled as she carefully sniffed the glass, then took an apprehensive sip. In about two more seconds, she had drained the glass and was asking for a refill.

'Now then, are you going to tell me what's wrong?'

'Yes...sorry...well, the thing is...that...er...' Now she had to tell someone else about it, it just seemed too ridiculous to even mention. She was being paranoid...she had eaten too much at breakfast...she hadn't slept enough last night...

He sighed. 'Eryl, you are going back to school next week if I have to drag you there myself, so if this is another attempt to win over my good nature, then I'll...'

'No, it's not, Dad...honest.' She had tried, and succeeded, several times over the past month to get her father to allow her just one more week at Hogwarts, just for her to spend some time with him...because it had been ages since she'd seen him last...and she was still terribly upset over what had happened at the church...and no, it had absolutely nothing to do with her wanting to spend more time with Sirius...or more time riding Buckbeak...and she had no interest whatsoever in staying around for the Triwizard Tournament...and even less interest in the Quidditch World Cup... even though Remus had taken her for a ride on one of the school's broomsticks and it had been one of the best experiences of her life...

'Well then?' he prompted.

'You're going to think I'm being stupid,' she murmured, losing her resolve rapidly as she bit into the cauldron cake. 'It doesn't matter.'

Snape shifted onto the edge of his seat and took her hand, rubbing his fingers gently over hers. 'Eryl...angel,' he said affectionately, his free hand slipping beneath her chin to raise her face to his, 'I've never thought anything you had to say was "stupid" and I most certainly have never said any such thing to you. You've never been afraid to talk to me before. Has something changed?'

'I hate it when you call me that,' she pouted stubbornly.

'Angel?'

'Yeah. It makes me sound like a...well...like I'm still five or something.'

'Eryl,' he sighed patiently, 'I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong.'

She rolled her eyes, took another bite of the cauldron cake and chomped on it moodily for a few seconds before replying. 'I...well...I was sitting down by the lake and I...er...I started throwing stones across the water and...'

'Ah,' Snape nodded, anticipating her, 'it's a squid.'

'What?'

'What you saw in the lake was a Giant Squid. It's nothing to be afraid of, he won't hurt you. All the same, I shouldn't go provoking him if I were you.'

'No...no, that's not it,' she said irritably, shaking her head. 'I know a bloody tentacle when I see it...'

'Language, Eryl,' he chided seriously.

She puffed out a weary breath. 'Sorry. But it wasn't anything I saw, it was something that happened. I was throwing stones across the lake and...well...it turned around and came back to me. Landed right beside me in the grass. Like a boomerang.'

'Like a what?'

'Oh...' she sighed impatiently, 'it doesn't matter. It's like a bent piece of wood that Aborigine Muggles use for hunting...but anyway...this stone just turned around on the water and came back to me. I thought I was seeing things, so I threw it again, and it came back again, only this time it hit me in the leg. It really bloody hurt too; damn thing caught me right in the thigh.'

His eyes narrowed, his eyebrows knitting together in a frown. 'I tolerate much from you, Eryl, but I will not tolerate the use of bad language. There is no excuse for it and you have been raised better than that.'

'All right, all right...I'm sorry...but what about the stone, Dad? How come it just shot back at me like that? Is that something that normally happens around here?'

Snape sucked in a long, slow breath, steepling his fingers beneath his chin as he turned away from her towards the leaded glass window. He couldn't see the lake from there, just the crimson smudges of cloud veiling the rising sun as it climbed through the azure sky. After a while, his hands moved to cover his face as he rubbed his eyes and turned back to her.

'Has anything strange like that ever happened to you before?'

'No,' she replied flatly. 'Why, should it have?'

'No, no...' he said, as though trying to reassure her, but his words and tone belied the concern that still furrowed his brow. 'Would you be willing to try something?'

'Like what?'

Snape pushed up from his chair and glided across to his desk, his long robes billowing out behind him. He unlocked his bottom drawer with his wand and pulled out a small, hand-carved statuette of a dog; a Labrador, by the look of it. He put it onto the desk.

'Hold up your hand for me, Eryl.'

'What for?'

'Do you always have to question everything, child? Just do it for me...please.'

She sighed, but did as she was asked.

'Now I want you to say, very clearly, "Accio Fenrir." Can you do that for me?'

'I suppose...ass...what?'

'Accio, Eryl,' he corrected, a little more sharply than he had intended. 'Accio Fenrir.'

She groaned with resignation and said lazily, 'Accio Fenrir.'

The small wooden dog shot across the room into her hand as though it were tied there by a piece of elastic.

'Bloody hell!' she gasped, sitting up straight, gripping the statue as though she had never seen anything like it before. 'What just happened? Did I do that?'

'Yes,' Snape said carefully, pushing the drawer closed, avoiding her eyes. Not to mention her language. 'I rather think you did.'

'You're joking! Wow! I did that? I made it come to me like that? You didn't do it? You're not humouring me, are you?'

'No, Eryl, I'm not.' He didn't seem to be even one tenth as excited by this as Erytheia was. He actually seemed depressed. He came back to his chair beside the fire and sighed, leaning forward, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger.

'What's wrong, Dad? Isn't that what was supposed to happen? Was it supposed to blow up or something?'

'No. It did exactly what it was supposed to do. Better than it was supposed to.'

'So why are you acting like someone's just died?

When he looked up at her, his skin seemed to have turned an even whiter shade of pale. His eyes were like the entrances to two dark, bottomless chasms; colourless, empty, devoid of any feeling that might once have lived there. Except, possibly, unfathomable, heart-rending grief.

'That statuette belonged to your mother. She bought it because it reminded her of our dog, Fenrir. He was a very beautiful animal and your mother was very upset when he died...another victim of the Dark Lord's wrath...' Snape closed his eyes and sucked in another shuddering breath before continuing. 'I have tried so very hard to protect you, Eryl. Your mother and I...we talked for days and days when we found out that we were expecting you...we'd already made such terrible mistakes and...and all we wanted...all she wanted, more than anything else, was to make sure that you never suffered for them.'

'I know that,' she murmured, fidgeting with the wooden dog, running her fingers over the knots and the cracks in the varnished coating. She didn't much like hearing about her mother. Not like this. For some reason, she felt a heaviness bearing down on the centre of her chest when she heard her father speak of her - a weight that made her want to cry, even though she wasn't entirely sure of the reason for it.

'We prayed and prayed that you would be born without magic, so that we could hide you were the Dark Lord would never be able to find you and use you to hurt us.'

'I know, Dad...please don't...I...I don't like to hear about this...you know I don't...'

'I know, Eryl...I'm not telling you this to upset you. I'm telling you because now it seems as though we were wrong - wrong to believe that we could keep you from this world; wrong to believe that we could protect you; wrong to wish as hard as we did for you to have no magical ability. It left you alone and unable to defend yourself when they eventually found you, as they were always bound to do. We were naïve...so terrified for you... It's my fault...I convinced your mother than it was the right thing to do...to hide you with my parents. Maybe she'd still...maybe...if I hadn't...she'd still be...'

Erytheia looked up when she heard her father's voice trailing off. Silent tears were slipping over his pale cheeks and his hands were clasped together in his lap as though he didn't know what else to do with them. He looked so small, somehow...so vulnerable...so very alone.

She had never seen her father cry. Never, not in nearly fifteen years. Not at anniversaries or birthdays or Christmas. Not even when they visited her mother's grave. Never. A searing pain lanced through her heart as she slipped from the chair and knelt in front of him, laying her head in his lap, encircling her arms around his waist.

For a moment, he stayed where he was, rigid, his breaths coming in staccato, silent sobs, but then she felt him leaning over her, enfolding her in his arms, his fingers smoothing over her hair as he held her.

'I'm sorry, Eryl,' he wept, 'I'm so sorry. I should have been there for you when you needed me. I let you down. I let your mother down...'

'No you didn't...'

'I miss her so much.'

'I know you do. It's all right...it's not your fault, Dad...'

'Yes, it is,' he cried, inconsolable. 'Malfoy took you because I wasn't there...because I was arrogant...I was stubborn...'

'No, you weren't. You and Mum did what you thought was right; you weren't to know how things would turn out. He would have come eventually anyway, you told me that. I don't blame you and neither would Mum. It's all right...please don't cry...I'm still here, I'm all right...you have me...you'll always have me...I love you, Daddy.'

His arms tightened around her as he pressed a tender, heartfelt kiss into her hair. 'I love you too, Eryl,' he whispered.

She held on tightly to her father for as long as he seemed to need her to. It had been a long time since she had hugged him like this and now she felt guilty that she had never been more demonstrative with her feelings towards him. He seemed so aloof sometimes, so...hard. Although she had never doubted that he loved her, she had never particularly felt the need to hug him or kiss him or reassure him that she loved him too. Perhaps she needed to acknowledge that she'd been wrong too. Perhaps she really did need him as much as he needed her.

Eventually, his dry sobs ceased and he released her with another soft kiss to her forehead as he wiped away the tears from her face that she hadn't even been aware she had cried.

'Your mother always said you were special, Eryl,' he said, smiling, caressing her heart-shaped face as though he were seeing it for the first time. 'I should have realised just how much.'

'What do you mean?' she asked, sitting back on her ankles.

'I don't know what triggered it...perhaps it was the Crucia...' He couldn't bring himself to say it. He screwed his eyes tightly closed and shuddered as the image faded away. 'Perhaps it was the curse Malfoy used...or perhaps it was your thoughts of your mother, your desire to remain here...Dumbledore will know more about that than I. But it would seem as though you're not quite as non-magical as your mother and I thought you were.'

'Really?' The excitation in her voice was unmistakable and Snape couldn't help but smile at it. He reached out, smoothing his hand over her spiky hair. He had never seen her dark eyes shine so bright.

'It would seem so, Eryl. Perhaps we should try something else.'

'Yes!' she exclaimed eagerly, getting to her feet. 'Like what? Can I use that Accio spell again?'

'Here,' he said, handing her his wand, 'try this first.'

She put the little wooden dog down on the table and tentatively accepted the wand as though he had just handed her a bar of gold or a ring set with hundreds of the purest diamonds. She stared at it, turning it over and over in her hands, running her fingers over the sleek mahogany. Her father had never let her anywhere near it before; it was the greatest honour he could ever have bestowed on her.

'Thank you,' she managed to choke out.

'It won't be designed for you, of course. The wand usually chooses the wizard...or witch.'

'I'm a witch? Wow,' she chuckled, 'Jonathon will think that's hysterical. He's been telling me I look like a witch ever since I started wearing eyeliner.'

Snape suddenly stopped smiling and raised an eyebrow. 'And who is Jonathon?'

'A friend, that's all. Just a friend. From school.'

'Ah. Yes,' he said, obviously wanting to know more but reluctant to ask. Erytheia grinned at his awkwardness. 'Well then...let's just try something simple to start of with. Just to see what you can do.'

He bundled up some old parchment into a metal bin and put it in the centre of the stone floor.

'Now, Eryl, listen. You need to point the wand directly at the parchments and say "Incendio". Say it once, without the wand first.'

'Incendio,' she repeated. 'Is that right?'

'Excellent,' Snape smiled. 'Now point the wand at the base of the parchment and say it again. "Incendio."'

She nodded, raised the wand that shook a little in her hand and said in a firm, clear voice, 'Incendio!'

Blue sparks spat from the end of the wand for a while and then, just when she was about to lower it in disappointment, a beam of light shot towards the bin which instantly burst into flames.

'Oh, wow!' she exclaimed, jumping up and down on the spot, 'I can't believe it! I did it! I'm a witch! I'm a witch, Dad!'

'Evanesco,' he said, waving his hand over the flames. The bin and its burning contents disappeared as Erytheia flung her arms joyfully around his neck. He laughed as he embraced her, holding her tight against him. 'I know you are. A very promising one, too, by the look on it. Not everyone can do that charm the first time. Your mother would be so proud of you.'

He held her for a little while until his back couldn't take the strain anymore and he had to put her down. Her enthusiasm had yet to abate though.

'Show me something else! What else can I try?'

'Calm now, Eryl. One thing at a time. I think perhaps we need to speak to Dumbledore first. Perhaps we can see about getting you enrolled here for next term.'

'Really? You can do that? I can stay here?'

'Well, I can't promise anything until I speak to Dumbledore, but I'm going to do my best. And you would have much catching up to do, of course, but I am willing to tutor you. It would be wonderful to have you here, I admit.'

Erytheia's smile couldn't possibly have grown any larger than it was in that moment.

'Then lets go see him! Right now! Oh, Sirius is going to think this is great! And Remus! Aunt Ariadne will be so surprised when she sees what I can do!' she said as Snape followed her out of his office and into the corridor, watching her with a bemused, affectionate and very proud expression on his once sallow face. Whether it was Erytheia or whether it was the breakdown of a barrier within himself that had caused it, he didn't know, but when he caught sight of his reflection in one of the windows along the corridor, he could have sworn that for the first time in more than fifteen years he had some colour in his cheeks and light within his eyes.