The Talisman of Monguk

Chapter 14: The Masquerade

The Bat Wing Ball was the social event of the season. Held annually in late January at the mansion of Madam Graves, the dance was a masquerade ball. It attracted every pureblood wizard family of social standing in the country. Thus Severus Snape was delighted when Lucius Malfoy secured him an invitation.

Snape arrived dressed all in black, a black mask covering his face. He was greeted at the door by a uniformed page, who announced his arrival. He entered the ballroom and descended the sweeping marble staircase. The expansive room was decorated in baroque style with marble pillars, arched windows, intricate friezes, and carved panels. Exquisite tapestries lined the walls. A fresco depicting a moonlit evening was painted on the ceiling. Elaborate gold and crystal chandeliers hung down, lit by actual fairies. An orchestra was assembled in the corner, but had not yet started playing.

As the party had already begun, the room was filled with witches and wizards dressed to the nines with elaborate feather masks. Dignitaries, government officials, and socialites milled about with cocktails in their hands, talking amiably. Conspicuous among them was Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, with his trademark lime green bowler hat in his hand and a matching lime green mask.

Snape surveyed the crowd, looking for the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy was impeccably dressed with a mask of silver and green. He carried his serpent-headed cane, betraying his identity. Beside him stood his wife, Narcissa, dressed in an elegant black gown with a mask of raven feathers. Her usual sneer was replaced by a rare smile tonight, perhaps because there were no inferior people around to spoil her mood. Snape crossed over and greeted them. To his delight, the Malfoys took him around and introduced him to various others of importance in the room.

While they were conversing with their hostess, Madam Graves, something caught his eye. A handsome gentleman with silvery hair escorted a lady down the marble staircase. She wore an exquisite off-the-shoulder gown of crimson crushed velvet. On her ivory neck was a conspicuous ruby necklace the color of her full red lips. She wore a mask of red and black feathers. Her jet-black tresses were curled in tight ringlets and swept up on her head. She was strikingly beautiful.

Snape stared at her in spite of himself. As he and the Malfoys mingled among the crowd, he stole glances at the captivating young woman. He watched her greet the minister and Madam Graves. She seemed to know them well. When the music began to play, the lady and gentleman moved to the dance floor and began to waltz. He watched her gracefully whirl around the floor with her partner. When the waltz ended, the orchestra began a slow tango. Snape saw his opportunity, excused himself from the Malfoys, and approached the couple.

"May I cut in," Snape said with a bow.

The lady nodded her consent. The gentleman handed her over to him. Snape took her in his arms and they began to dance.

Snape felt a strange affinity for the tango, although he eschewed all other forms of dance. Perhaps the struggle for domination symbolized by the dance attracted him. Or perhaps he liked the feeling of power when his partner gave the appearance of resistance, then melted into submission to his will. The two staccato steps followed by the sweeping slithery stride came naturally to him. And he was a master at those abrupt head jerks, favored by professional dancers but rarely seen among novices. He had perfected that move in the classroom, turning suddenly to cast his withering glare at errant students.

Snape and the lovely lady cut a dashing figure on the dance floor. They glided in a counter clockwise direction around the room in 4/4 time. They executed progressions, promenades, and turns, all punctuated by the sharp head snaps and quick footwork. When the music ended, Snape lowered the lady into a precipitous dip and then slowly lifted her in his arms back to her feet. Rapture lit her face.

"You are a wonderful dancer," she gushed.

"Thank you. I had an inspiring partner," he replied.

Not surprisingly, another gentleman approached her for a dance.

"Perhaps later, Fredrick," she answered him. Then turning back to Snape, she added, "I wish to speak with this gentleman further, if he desires it."

Snape extended his arm to her. She took it and walked off the dance floor with him. Fredrick just stood there flabbergasted with his mouth hanging open.

"Do you come to these events often?" Snape inquired.

"In truth, I avoid them whenever possible," she confessed. "I only came tonight because my mother fell ill at the last minute. She insisted that our family send a representative, so I agreed to accompany my father."

"The gray-haired gentleman is your father?"

"Yes."

"Then can I assume that you are...unattached?"

"I am," she replied with a demure smile.

Snape could hardly contain his delight.

She asked, "And you, do you attend these events often?"

"No. A friend of mine arranged for my invitation."

"That explains why I've not seen you before. I can guess the identity of almost everyone else in the room," she replied, surveying the crowd. Then she turned to him and smiled. "It seems that I was fortunate to meet you here tonight."

Snape returned the smile. "Can I bring you a drink?"

"A glass of wine would be lovely. Thank you."

As Snape moved off to fetch the drinks, Lucius Malfoy intercepted him. The lady overheard fragments of their conversation. She caught the name of the black-clad stranger.

"Severus? Could it be?" she mused. She surveyed his angular movements across the room and familiar mannerisms. "Of course, that's unmistakably Severus Snape. How could I have been so blind?"

The lady was none other than Ravena Hawkins. Since that disastrous December day at the Three Broomsticks, Snape had barely spoken a word to her. Instead, he ignored her whenever possible, as though she didn't even exist. At first, his behavior baffled her. But she eventually concluded that the invitation had been a ruse and that his failure to appear had been intentional. She could not fathom why he was being kind to her now. Could this be another cruel jest? Or could it be that he did not recognize her? She determined to find out.

Snape returned after a few minutes with her drink. She swirled the wine in the glass, took a sniff, and then raised the glass to her lips. She considered her next move. Snape watched her over his own glass. She smiled invitingly.

"It's too crowded and noisy in here for my taste. I happen to know that Madam Graves owns a lovely conservatory. Would you like to see it?" she suggested.

"I'd love to," Snape replied, obviously pleased.

He gave her his arm and they strolled off together toward the conservatory, talking as they went. The conservatory held an expansive indoor garden. There were paths weaving through the plantings, benches for sitting, and fountains. They strolled along the paths and stopped in front of a fountain featuring a dragon spewing water from its mouth. They sat on a nearby bench.

"You are such an enchanting creature. I must know who you are," Snape ventured.

Thinking quickly, Ravena replied, "But a mystery is so much more enticing, don't you think?"

He looked unconvinced.

"I know," she added. "We'll make it a game. I'll tell you something about myself. Then you must tell me something about yourself. But we cannot use our names. Agreed?"

"Agreed. You first."

Ravena thought for a moment and said, "I come from a prominent family. We are related to the Malfoys through my mother's side. Your turn."

"I am a professor at Hogwarts," Snape said.

"Impressive," she replied, raising her eyebrows.

Snape's chest swelled with pride.

Ravena continued, "I have a friend who just joined the faculty there. Do you know Ravena Hawkins?"

At the mention of Ravena's name, Snape's face fell and he frowned disagreeably. "Yes, I know the woman. We do not get along."

"Oh, such a pity," Ravena replied with a sigh. "We are very close, she and I. Some might say that we are soul mates."

Snape looked at her with surprise. "Oh no, milady, you are nothing like Professor Hawkins. You are as different as the sun and the moon."

Ravena could not suppress her laughter. "What makes you say that?"

"I do not generally speak ill of my colleagues and I certainly do not wish to offend you. Perhaps it would be best if I say nothing."

"But your demeanor gives me reason for doubt. Perhaps I am the one who is deceived about her. If I am mistaken in her, isn't it best to know the truth?" She gave him a pleading look.

Snape considered her for a moment and then relented. "If you insist, I'll speak plainly. I find her to be duplicitous, arrogant, and sharp-tongued."

Ravena blanched, but then hurried to cover her rising anger. She forced a look of shock. "And is she really so disagreeable toward you?"

"She is! She imagines herself so clever with her witty barbs at my expense, but her jests have no art, no subtlety to them," he said, the irony ringing in his voice.

"And her criticisms of you, they are undeserved, I presume?" she inquired, raising her eyebrows.

"Naturally! I try to be fair-minded toward all of my colleagues. If I offer an occasional criticism, it is only for their benefit."

Ravena would have been offended, had she not been so amused by the absurdity of his statement. She bit her lip to suppress her laughter. "And have you told her how you feel?" Ravena asked, feigning innocence.

"Of course, but she is so haughty that my words make no impression on her at all. I have resolved to ignore her."

Ravena felt a pang of remorse. She had heard enough. "Let's not talk of this any more. It would be a shame to waste such a pleasant evening on unpleasant talk."

As the evening wore on, it became increasingly clear that Snape was taken with her. He spoke such kind words to her, praising her beauty and charm. Judging by his words, she was quite certain that he did not know her true identity. When the clock struck midnight, the lateness of the hour startled her.

"Oh no! I really must go. Thank you for a wonderful evening," she said, rising to her feet. Then she ran off down the path with Snape in close pursuit.

"But I still don't know your name," Snape called after her.

"Ask Ravena. She'll know," she shouted over her shoulder.

Her father was waiting for her in the ballroom. He held her cloak in his hand, a worried expression on his face. She apologized to him, hastily thanked her hostess, and left without looking back. Snape watched her go with despair. Narcissa Malfoy, who was standing nearby, took notice of him.

"I never did get her name," Snape said.

Narcissa just laughed coldly and replied, "Didn't you know, Severus? That's Ravena Hawkins. Her mother is Lucius' cousin."

All the color drained from Snape's face. Rage surged through him.

* * * * * * * * * *

The next day, Ravena was back at Hogwarts. She sat in her office, working on her lessons for the week. She looked up from her work and idly fingered the red and black feather mask that she had been wearing the night before. She had recently returned from her parent's house and had not yet seen Snape. She wondered how she would break the news to him that she had been the woman behind the mask. She was considering several possible scenarios, when she heard a knock at her door. She hastily stuffed the mask in her desk drawer.

"Come in," she said.

The door burst open and Snape swept in. He strode over to her, his face pale with suppressed fury. He leaned over her desk.

"What is the meaning of your deception last night? Do you take some perverse pleasure in trifling with my affections?" he hissed through clenched teeth.

"I was not toying with you. And can you blame me for keeping quiet, when you spoke the first kind words to me that I've heard from you since I arrived?" she insisted.

"Ha! So you admit it! What do you take me for? One of your fawning admirers that you can abuse for your amusement?"

"I did no such thing! I had every intention of telling you who I was, until you called me those awful things. Even then, I continued dropping hints all evening. It's not my fault that you were too blind to see through them," she protested, rising to her feet.

"So I am blind, am I? Was I blind that afternoon when I saw you flirting shamelessly with those Lotharios in the Three Broomsticks? I'll bet you couldn't wait to humiliate me, when I walked through that door," he raged.

"Is that what you think happened? That I'm some sort of temptress, a siren who lures men to her, only to destroy them mercilessly?"

"I KNOW WHAT I SAW," he bellowed.

"Well, you saw wrong! I did not invite those three boorish louts to join me. For your information, I was trying to get rid of them."

"Do you really expect me to believe your lies?" he hissed.

"They are not lies! That is the truth! You're the potions master. Get some Veritaserum, if you have it. Or better yet, I understand that you are skilled in Legilimency. Go ahead. I give you permission. I dare you, if you really want the truth." Her eyes flashed angrily. She drew herself up to her full height, facing him with defiance. She took hold of his wand tip and pointed it at her own chest. "Go ahead," she said, bracing herself.

He clenched his fist around the wand and hissed "Legilimens!"

The events of that December day flashed through Ravena's mind. She relived the arrival of the three men, her rebuffs, the hex, and Hagrid's rescue. Snape saw them too.

Then her thoughts flashed to another day some fifteen years earlier. She was a seventeen-year-old girl at Durmstrang. She was crying and pleading with a man, a professor, to let her go.

"Enough!" she yelled, knocking Snape's wand away with her arm.

The anger had drained from Snape's face. His expression was unfathomable.

"Now, get out of my office," she demanded, straining to master herself.

Snape turned and fled the room, slamming the door behind him. Ravena sank down in her chair. She buried her head in her hands, sobbing.

* * * * * * * * * *

That night, Lupin and Angela sat in the kitchen of headquarters at Grimmauld Place. They sat side by side with their heads bent over a book. They were reading Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet.

"What's this business about a palmers' kiss? Is that some Muggle thing?" Lupin asked.

Angela giggled and replied, "No, it's not a Muggle thing. It's a poetic thing. Now tell me what's going on in this scene."

"Well, Romeo has come to the party in disguise and sees Juliet. He fancies her and he's talking to her."

"He's doing more than talking. He's wooing her and he's using the imagery of pilgrims to do it. Here, let me explain. When a pilgrim prays, it looks like this." Angela put her hands together with palms touching and bowed her head as if in prayer.

She continued, "Now give me your right hand." She took Lupin's right hand and pressed her left palm to it. "Romeo has taken Juliet's hand like this. Now read the passage again from the beginning and see if it doesn't make sense this time."

Lupin began reading Romeo's lines. Angela read Juliet's lines. They continued reading the scene in this manner, until Lupin abruptly stopped.

"'Let lips do what hands do. They pray,'" he repeated. He smiled and then said, "Ah, praying...Now I understand." Then he leaned over and kissed Angela.

"Not that I'm complaining, but Romeo doesn't do that for another two lines," she protested with a smirk. "But you do 'kiss by the book.'"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that you kiss expertly."

With a chuckle, he put down the book and they began to kiss. But a minute later, he pulled away.

"What is it?" she asked.

He snatched up the book again and appeared deep in thought. "Praying," he muttered under his breath. His jaw fell open. He dropped the book down on the table. His chair tipped over with a clatter as he stood up.

"That's it!" He pulled out the parchment on which he'd copied the map symbols.

"What?"

"I think I know where to find the instructions for these symbols," Lupin said with a broad grin.