In Search of Sirius: The Land of the Living Dead

Chapter One: Essence of Mag Mell

Harry was breathing hard. He was cowered in a corner of Snape's dungeon, watching as the Potions Master slowly turned round and round and peered mistrustfully into the shadows. Snape then stretched out his arms and groped along the walls as if he suspected that, somewhere in this room, lurked Harry Potter in his invisibility cloak. Harry swallowed silently and sank lower to the floor.

This worked. Snape's fumbling arms went right over his head. Finally, with a snarl of rage, Snape swung around and swept out of the dungeon.

Harry let out his breath in a relieved sigh, and gingerly followed in his wake. He was heading for the Room of Requirement, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him. Everything should now be ready. He was going to get Sirius back! Excitement fizzed along his veins as he ghosted quietly along the familiar corridors.

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"Albus! I must speak with you!"

Dumbledore looked up from the piles of papers on his desk and peered over his half-moon glasses. Snape was looming over him with a dramatic air.

"Messages from the Ministry every other minute," he sighed, pushing the notes in front of him to one side. "I'm thinking about moving into the Owlery. Yes, Severus, how may I help you?"

Snape delicately removed a piece of fluff from the sleeve of his robes.

"It's that Potter boy."

"Harry? Ah yes, Severus. What has been doing to upset you now?" (Apart from breathing, Dumbledore silently added to himself.)

"He takes liberties, Albus. I have warned you of this on a number of occasions -"

How true, thought Dumbledore. "Yes," he agreed patiently. "I know. But I'm sure you did not come here simply to tell me that, Severus. What in particular has he been doing to draw down your wrath?"

Snape's black eyes sparked. "He has stolen something. Yet again, he has broken into my Potions store -"

"Your Potions store? Are you sure it was Harry, Severus, and what is it you suspect he has taken?"

"It must have been Potter. Only Potter has an invisibility cloak. Why you persist in letting him retain such a dangerous -" He coughed. "Yes, well. The other reason I am convinced the thief is Potter is because of what was taken."

Dumbledore made an encouraging movement with his hand. Snape paused before he continued.

"I am afraid, Albus, you will find this news disturbing. The ingredients missing are those needed for the final touches in brewing Essence of Mag Mell."

"Mag Mell...?" Dumbledore sat up. "Have you checked to see where Harry is now?"

"No," Snape snapped, flaring his nostrils. "Funnily enough, I have better things to do than chase around the castle after that wretched Potter boy - even though he seems to think this ought to be everyone's primary business in life."

"Then there is no time to lose." Dumbledore strode to the door. "I would appreciate it you would accompany me, Severus. I may need you."

"Certainly, Headmaster."

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The noisy chatter in the Gryffindor Common Room died down in surprise when Dumbledore made his entrance through the portrait of the Fat Lady. It stopped altogether when the inhabitants of Gryffindor registered that their Potions Master was sweeping behind him.

Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Do not be alarmed. I wonder, has anyone seen Harry recently - Harry Potter? I need a word with him."

"He went out, Headmaster," piped up Colin Creevey, who could normally be relied on to have a good idea of Harry's whereabouts. "It was quite a while ago, actually, and he had Ron and Hermione with him."

Snape twisted his lip sardonically. Naturally, Ron and Hermione would have been with him. Granger and the youngest Weasley boy were almost as bad as Potter himself. Only almost, of course.

As they strode back along the corridor, Snape saw that Dumbledore was looking rather pale. Snape let out his breath in a grumpy sigh. Normally, he enjoyed other people's discomfiture. On the whole, he found it a more acceptable means of indulging his spleen than mayhem, torture and murder. (That was part of the Dark Lord's trouble: he had no sense of perspective.) However, Dumbledore inspired him with a feeling not so very distant from what might in anyone else be termed affection. Dumbledore, he knew, had a curious attachment to Potter. Far too trusting, Dumbledore, he thought to himself: not without irony. He was very aware that others shared this point of view entirely, except it was with respect to himself.

The words were out before he knew what he was saying.

"We will need to check out the castle and grounds thoroughly, of course. But I suppose, if you wish me to, I could always go in after them - should it be necessary."

Dumbledore stopped in his tracks. "My dear Severus. What a very generous offer. Have you undertaken this journey before?"

Snape shook his head. No-one in their right minds would make this journey unless absolutely obliged to, or unless they had Potter's apparently unshakeable belief in his own invincibility.

"It will be dangerous." Dumbledore warned.

"I am aware of this."

"How will you find them?"

"I shall follow the trail of destruction, chaos and the blundering good fortune of fools. At the end of this path, I have no doubt I will locate Potter and his friends."

"Severus, I will be deeply in your debt if you do see fit to undertake this task."

Snape shrugged indifferently. His inner thoughts, however, were something along the lines: Have you gone completely out of your mind? (which must be much tinier than you have always supposed.)

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Peculiarly enough, this was just what Hermione was thinking. She knew Harry would not have been able to brew this potion on his own. It was far too complicated. It was, she thought (not without a trace of smugness) something that only real adepts could hope to bring off.

Adepts and thieves. She shuddered to contemplate Snape's reaction when he noticed that his precious Potions Store had been raided yet again. Harry and Ron were blithely convinced that even if he noticed someone had broken in, he would not realize for what purpose. Hermione was not so sure. She suspected the dark glitter in Snape's eyes betrayed a powerful intellect. It would not be impossible for him to put two and two together....

"Don't be silly, Hermione," Ron had said sweepingly. "How could anyone realize what we are up to just because we've taken a couple of random ingredients? We managed to get most of the stuff in Hogsmeade..."

"Because," Hermione had explained patiently, "if you know what you are doing, these are not random ingredients. They are always used in potions to do with resisting death. Snape could quite easily guess what potion we want to make..."

"Yeah, but how?" Ron demanded. He did look a shade uneasy.

"How?" Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "Harry has spent the last two months either not talking at all or talking about Sirius, and you want to know how Snape will guess which particular death potion we are interested in?"

"Yeah, well - " At that moment, Harry returned; Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and shut up. This was pretty much par for the course over recent weeks.

"I got them," he said triumphantly. "Bane's bane, Wolfshead, and Concentrate of Sea Onion!"

"Oh good," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Right, give them here."

The Potion they had been brewing was so dark it seemed to absorb colour from around it. Wreaths of mist breathed from its black surface. Hermione took the herbs, now chopped into the recommended sizes and shapes, and one by one she added them to the brew. She intoned the proper incantations. The mixture slowly turned from the dullest of blacks to what looked like liquid starlight.

"Wow, Hermione!" said Ron.

She did not bother to reply. She took out the three bottles she had spelled earlier, filled them to the brim, and silently passed them to her two friends.

"Now," she said. "We need to go stand in the light of the full moon by the edge of still waters. Harry - " She hesitated. "Harry, are you really sure this is such a good idea?"

"Yes," he replied mulishly. "But you don't have to come. In fact it's probably better if you don't.. I mean it will be a risk... I don't want you getting hurt..."

They had been through this argument so many times that Harry was not surprised when neither Hermione nor Ron took the slightest bit of notice. Hermione and Ron had both been very reluctant to aid him in this latest enterprise. However, both had been equally adamant that if he was going to do it, he would not be alone.

"All right then," Harry said, trying to sound a lot more confident then he really was. "Off we go!"

They slipped quietly out of the castle through one of the secret entrances revealed to them by Fred and George. The moon was full and bulbous. They were heading for the shores of the lake; there, they would take the potion.

And enter, they hoped, into the Land of Mag Mell: otherwise known as the Underworld. Or at least, Harry hoped this. Hermione and Ron were both prey to rather more mixed emotions.

Chapter Two: The Shores of the Dead

"You know," Ron muttered conversationally as they scurried through the night. "I really do think this is the dumbest thing we've ever done."

"We're trying to find Sirius!" Harry snapped. "How can you call that dumb? ARE YOU SAYING-?"

"Shusssh!!!" hissed Ron and Hermione in unison.

They reached the lake. The moon cast a shimmering circle of light across its black surface. It was so still. Still as death, thought Hermione slightly hysterically. Wasn't that what people said?

A noise from behind startled them. They turned, wide-eyed: two tall figures could be seen, striding in their direction.

"Quickly!" urged Harry.

The three picked up their potions bottles, looked at each other, and raised them to their lips.

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"I think I see them," Snape said suddenly, lengthening his stride. "Albus, do you..?"

"Yes..." They picked up their pace with the help of a speed-spell, and cursed the ancient charms which made it impossible for people to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts.

It could only have been moments later when they arrived by the lake. But it was too late.

They had gone.

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It was as if they had been thrust under tonnes of icy water. Flattened by it, pummelled by it, they were propelled backwards and downwards: unable to move or see or speak or breathe.

Just as their lungs were burning so fiercely it seemed they must surely drown, they broke the surface of a stormy sea. They did not have time to ask how this could be; they barely had time to take a breath. Plunging towards them across the spray came a herd of white horses. Their nostrils steamed with white foam; and their eyes churned like whirlpools in their heads.

Ron, Harry and Hermione were frantically treading water, still panting for breath.

"Grab - a - mane," Hermione gasped suddenly, reaching towards one of the horses as it flew towards them.

Both startled and puzzled, Ron and Harry nevertheless thew out their arms to do as she said. The horses slowed as they passed to allow them to catch hold. Harry scrambled on to one of their backs with surprising ease. Ron, though was floundering, his freckled face turned upwards in alarm. Harry grabbed him with a desperate hand and thrust him at one of the creatures, which obligingly paused whilst Ron found his seat. It seemed as if the creatures wished to be ridden. It was a better reception committee than Ron and Harry had hoped for.

But Hermione was waving frantically at them. One hand was firmly entwined in her horse's flowing mane; with the other, she had removed her school tie, and was now yelling some charm or other. The tie wound itself into her mount's mouth as if it were reins.

"Place - ment - charm!" she was shrieking.

Still at a loss, Harry and Ron followed her lead. It was more difficult. The horses seemed to have gathered what they trying to do. They bucked and plunged. Only the hours of Quidditch practice on broomsticks enabled the two boys to keep their seats as they removed their ties and performed the charms.

The horses immediately calmed down. Hermione had yelled something at hers; it seemed to be obeying, for it was skimming across the waves towards a distant shore.

"Follow that horse!" both Ron and Harry told their own mounts. The horses did so, their ears flat back and their eyes rolling furiously.

All three were dumped unceremoniously on the shore before the white horses highstepped away.

Ron groaned. "Oh my. What a ride. Hermione, what was all that about?"

"Those weren't horses, Ron," Hermione said. "They were kelpies. You know, kelpies? Don't you ever listen in class?" She did not seem to think this question worthy of an answer, for she carried straight on with her explanation. "Kelpies are water demons. They lure people into riding them, then take them away to the bottom of the sea."

"And, and then-?"

"They eat you."

Ron and Harry gulped rather. Still, thanks to Hermione, they had survived this first part of their travels. Looking around, they saw a featureless shore flanked by great black cliffs. A light mist hung over the landscape. While it was not exactly dark, it was not what you would call bright and sunny either. It was a steely light, bright, but hard and grey at the same time.

"Um - now what?"

"I suppose we try to find a path," Harry replied. He stood up resolutely, and began to head for the break in the cliffs he could just make out ahead. With any luck, there would be some means of climbing to the top there. Hermione and Ron shrugged; this plan was as good as any other.

They had not gone far when a figure loomed out of the mist.

It was tall, very tall, and shrouded in a grey cloak. However hard she stared, Hermione could see no sign of a face within the darkness of the hood. Involuntarily, they all took a step backwards.

"Why do you disturb me?" the voice demanded. It was a liquid voice - musical, yet somehow dangerous all at the same time.

"Er," Harry stuttered. "I'm sorry, sir, er, ma'am. We have no wish to disturb you..."

The being laughed. Or at least, that seemed to be the best way of describing the noise it made. It reminded Harry of water whispering over stones.

"Then what do you propose to do, my young travellers? Without my aid, you will simply wander this shoreline forever. Is that your desire?"

"No. We're - we're here to look for my Godfather!" Harry blurted.

"Your Godfather? Is he one such as you, from mortal realms?"

"Yes - only, only he died...."

"Then," the voice whispered. "He is not here. This is the Land of the Living Dead. It is not the mortal resting place."

"Yes, but," Hermione interrupted in a trembling voice. "He did not die a normal death. He fell through the Veil..."

"The Veil? You speak of Great Mysteries, small one. But if he fell through the Veil, it may be you will, after all, find him here...."

The figure rustled, as if pausing for thought. Then it spoke again.

"I will give you three gifts for free. One for each of you, as a reward for taming the kelpies.

"Firstly: you shall not kill. Hear me, mortal ones. If you kill within the realms of Mag Mell, your fate will pass beyond the writing of the gods. This does not, of course, mean that those who dwell in this place cannot kill you.

"Secondly: take no food and consume no drink from these lands. If you do, this will be your home forever. Perhaps you do not mind this destiny. So it has been for some of your kind.

"Thirdly: remember, everything has a price. Everything. You may only use what is truly your own, and what you take but do no pay for, you will forfeit in the sacrifice of your living flesh."

The being turned. As it began to glide away, Harry suddenly called after it.

"Please! Please, could you help us a little more?"

"What wish you, mortal?" the shrouded figure breathed.

"What direction do we need to go? How do I find my Godfather?"

"Direction? There is no such thing as direction in the Land of Mag Mell. However, it may help you find what you seek if you first approach the Three Seers."

As it left, its sliding laughter came to them on the breeze.

Hermione frowned. There was something about this advice she found deeply disturbing....