The Way Back to Daylight

Author's Notes: See the Prologue. Also, huge thanks to affleway123 and Lunafan for reviewing! I really appreciate it.

Night and day lie open the gates of death's dark kingdom:

But to retrace your steps, to find the way back to daylight--

That is the task, the hard thing.

- Virgil, Aeneid, VI. 128-130 (Oxford World Classics Ed.)

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Chapter Four

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Remus opened the door to find Sybill jewellery-free, dressed in khaki trousers, hiking boots and a loose, chequered shirt. She held a cigarette in one hand, and was fixing her tightly-wound hair with the other. At her feet lay a pile of clear-plastic grocery bags, filled with an assortment of fruit and vegetables: everything from artichokes to zucchini.

"... Sybill?"

"Were you expecting someone else?" she asked, taking a long drag and blowing a perfect smoke ring.

"Er ... well, no. It's just ..." If only Minerva McGonagall could see you now, he wanted to say, but she wouldn't have understood. "It isn't important."

With a tight-lipped, impatient frown, Sybill dropped her cigarette and crushed it into the cottage's gravel pathway. "Are you coming with me then, wolf?"

"Yes," he replied, without hesitation. "From the moment I touched the bough, I knew I'd do anything to follow you through the Underworld. There's someone I need to visit, you see, to make sure he's all right, and -"

"Look, I'm not here to chat," Sybill cut in. "And I'm not going to guide you through the Underworld; you can forget about that." Remus opened his mouth to protest, but Sybill continued. "Yes, yes, I guided Aeneas. But in those times, the future of your absurd civilisation was at stake. This is only a minor prophecy. I'll take you to the gates, but you'll be travelling alone from there."

Remus reflected on this for a moment. On the one hand, an experienced guide would be welcome; on the other, Remus wasn't sure he could endure much more of Sybill's company. He decided not to argue with her, as he'd already accepted his low chance of survival; and, perhaps most importantly, he didn't want to introduce her to Sirius.

Sybill was glaring at him, expecting a fight, but he just shrugged and pulled on his backpack. It was a huge burden, almost half his size, but it only weighed as much as a woollen jumper.

"I'm ready," he said, as the pack fastened automatically. "Where are we off to?"

"You'll see when we arrive," she replied.

"Must you always be so mysterious?"

"It isn't mystery," she snapped. "I just can't be bothered explaining." She bent down, scooped up the full-to-bursting plastic bags, and handed a few to Remus, "Here."

He opened one and looked inside. As well as the fresh produce, there was a packet of gluten-free chocolate biscuits, a bottle of Italian mineral water, and a bag of 'oven-roasted' pistachio nuts.

"Thank you, Sybill, but my pack is full of supplies," he told her, trying not to sound frustrated. "Besides, even charmed, this fruit wouldn't last more than a few months."

"Oh, this isn't for you," she sniffed. "Honestly, do you think I'd buy these chocolate-coated macadamia nuts -" she pulled out a box, dangling it before his eyes "- for just anyone?"

"I suppose there's no point asking -"

"You'll see when we arrive."

With that, she transferred all of her bags to one arm, then grabbed his wrist with her free hand. Remus took one last look at his rented front garden, with its ragged, weedy lawn and gnarled rosebushes, before Sybill's Apparation swept him away.

---

"We're still in England, then?" asked Remus.

Sybill smirked at him, shaking a fresh cigarette from her pack. "No, we're in Timbuktu. Looks amazingly like the English countryside, doesn't it?"

They were standing in a dandelion-infested meadow, shaded by a copse of oaks and beeches. Nearby was an abandoned apple orchard, with trees drooping under the weight of bird-pecked fruit, making the air stink of fermenting apples and hum with bees.

Ordinary green fields rolled to the horizon in every direction, except one; to the west was a hill, tall and bare, that would block the sun as it set. At first glance, it looked smooth and ovoid as an egg, but closer inspection revealed deep, even ridges in its surface. They resembled the steps of a South American pyramid, but they hadn't been built from the rock; they'd been carved, with painstaking precision, by the Celts.

At the peak of the hill stood a rectangular stone tower, obviously constructed more recently. It stuck out like a lone needle in a pincushion: Christianity's attempt to plant ownership over ancient, deep-rooted beliefs, as futile and out-of-place as America's flag on the moon.

"The Glastonbury Tor," said Remus. He'd only seen it in photographs, but it was unmistakeable. "My family made plans to holiday here, when I was six."

"You went to the seaside instead?"

Remus turned to her, with a faint smile. "I was bitten by a wolf."

He wasn't expecting comfort, but he was taken aback by her total lack of expression. It was as though he hadn't spoken; she didn't seem to care at all, one way or the other. He didn't mind, exactly; he'd just been interested in seeing how she felt. Sybill was human in many ways, but Remus wasn't sure to what extent. Did she experience anything but anger and frustration? Was she truly nothing but Apollo's reluctant instrument?

"So, what do you know about the Tor?" she asked.

Remus shrugged. "I've read several research papers about it; no major works, but enough to understand that it represents many things, to many different traditions. It was once surrounded by water and marshlands, and known as the Isle of Avalon in the time of Merlin. However, the Celts knew it first as the entrance to their afterlife, Annwn, and later as the hollow hill, the doorway to the realm of faerie. In reality, it doesn't possess any magical properties; it was analysed by a team of Ministry of Magic researchers in the eighteenth century, who uncovered nothing except a deserted goblin nest."

Sybill snorted and shook her head. "Those closed-minded fools."

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Isn't anyone capable of lateral reasoning these days? No one can think for themselves anymore." She took a jerky, irritated puff from her cigarette. "Listen, there are many ways to climb the Tor, but there's only one way to climb through it."

Remus frowned, puzzled. "I'm sorry; I'm not following you."

"The thing to remember is, the Tor is both a hill and a valley," Sybill explained, in a too-patient voice. "The Tor is both inward and outward. That's what everyone's forgotten. Well, except me. I can lead you through the Tor valley, to the banks of the River Styx: the boundary between two worlds."

At that, Sybill turned towards the Tor and began striding across the meadow, stooped by the weight of her rattling grocery bags.

Remus hurried after her. "Are you sure this is the quickest way?"

"Why wouldn't it be?" she asked, sharp and brisk, without sparing him a glance.

"Sirius...my friend, he fell through a veiled archway in the Department of Mysteries. I assume it leads directly to the Underworld."

"No one can pass through the veil and remain alive; not even with the bough," said Sybill. "There are seven entrances to the Underworld, scattered around higgledy-piggledy, and the veil isn't one of them. It's just a short-cut, or an open window; a passage straight to the final judgement."

Remus followed her across the grass, his eyes on the Tor, but all he could see was Sirius falling backwards through the archway; that split-second, that knowledge of loss.

---

Sybill didn't speak as they walked, remaining silent even when they reached the cool, dark shadow of the Tor. A dirt path wound to the right, but Sybill ignored it; she strode straight up the slope, taking the most difficult route. Remus followed, at first easily mimicking her hurried pace, but soon lagging behind, panting with a pounding heart, an ache in his under-exercised legs. He didn't complain; after years of bone-cracking, skin-tearing transformations, he had a high threshold for pain.

Half an hour passed. Remus kept expecting to reach the peak, but it still seemed several yards ahead of him, not quite within reach. He tried to think about the prophecy, to untangle its meaning, but he was too exhausted. Instead, he focused on Sybill, urging himself to keep up. Her tall, frail body was drooped like a dying dandelion, her hair escaping from its bun in wisps; but her legs continued their brisk steps.

After an hour, sweat had beaded along Remus's hairline, pooling above his lips and chin. Every so often, he took gulps of water from his wand, but nothing was enough to quench his thirst. Although they were walking in shade, he could somehow feel the sun on his face and the back of his neck, and even the tips of his ears. Soon, there was nothing but sweet-scented grass and Sybill, and blinding golden light from the west.

A few minutes later, Remus was stumbling down a rocky path choked with thistles and dark-leafed weeds. Though their ascent had never finished, they were now descending into a wide, wooded valley. Sybill was almost sliding down the slope, moving sideways with delicate, certain strides. The sunlight had faded, leaving the sky a pale, cloudless pinkish-yellow, the colour of under-ripe peaches.

"Quickly, now," Sybill called. "It'll be easier if there's some light to see by."

Remus slipped and stumbled several times, grazing the palms of his hands as he steadied himself. He was distracted by the lack of birdsong and insect-buzzing, and by a cloud of black smoke that poured up from the trees, further along the edge of the valley.

In the Aeneid, he recalled, the River Styx flowed far beneath the ground; the only way to reach it was through a gloomy, smog-spouting cavern. He'd been hoping the Tor entrance was different, but as they drew closer to the foul-smelling smoke, he realised it was definitely issuing from beneath the earth; there wasn't any fire.

"Come on, come on," urged Sybill, still several paces ahead.

They'd almost reached the floor of the valley, and were surrounded by wind-stunted trees at the edge of the wood. Already, the sky had turned pale mauve, bruised with indigo and blue, and a dozen stars had appeared. Remus's robes kept entangling in blackberry brambles, while Sybill's trousers gave her an advantage.

By the time the entrance came into view, Remus was panting, his pulse thudding through his head. Sweat itched behind his ears and across his back, and the edge of his robe was ragged. He swayed on his feet, staring at the cavern; midnight-dark, surrounded by sharp grey rocks. It gaped like the mouth of a shark.

Maybe I was mad to consider this, he thought. What kind of man is happy to walk off the edge of the earth?

In front of him, Sybill emptied her grocery bags onto the ground, arranging their contents in a disordered pile. She beckoned him over, then scowled when he hesitated.

"What, are you going to slink away with your tail between your legs?" she taunted.

In answer, he walked over and held out his bags.

"Good," she said, grabbing them. After scattering their contents onto the pile, she pulled out her wand. "Vinomenti," she cried, and a jet of red wine spurted from the tip, soaking over the food.

"Oh," said Remus, understanding. "Don't we need oxen, or at least a black lamb or two?"

"I'll have you know that the King and Queen of the Underworld are happily vegetarian, and have been for a few hundred years. They no longer accept sacrificial animals; not even fish."

"Vegetarian?"

"Oh yes," said Sybill, calmly setting the pile alight with a wordless spell. "The smell of burning flesh grows tiresome, you know. And the bloodstains are terribly difficult to wash out. Quite disgusting."

"What about the smell of burning plastic?" Remus muttered, as he shielded his nose with a handkerchief.

"Shush," said Sybill; then, in a louder tone, declared, "We dedicate this sacrifice to Pluto and Proserpine, glorious rulers of the sunless lands; to the Furies, guardians of Tartarus; to the Earth, mother of us all; and to Hecate, the dark half of the moon, the darkness in every human soul."

"Hear, hear," added Remus, who'd never been particularly religious.

The smoke was sickeningly bittersweet, clotting in his throat and lungs. Between the smog from the cavern and the spitting fire, the cool evening air was the only relief. He had to turn away to cough, trying to hold down the contents of his stomach.

"It's done," said Sybill, and doused the fire with a flow of wand-water. "Coming?"

Once again, she walked away before he could respond. His eyes flickered to the cavern: the yawning, smoke-spewing blackness in the valley wall.

"You don't have to, Moony," said Sirius, from beside him. "I mean, why bother?"

"The prophecy," Remus replied, eyes still fixed on the cavern.

"We both know that's not why you're doing this."

"To see you, then," Remus admitted. "That's what I've wanted most, all these years without you. Just to see you. To know you still exist."

He waited for a reply, and when none came, he caught up with Sybill. Without a glance back at the summer night, he followed her into the sunless lands.

---

More Notes: My knowledge about the Glastonbury Tor comes from:

- McMillan, Atasha, Magical Mystery Tor: Legends, Folklore and strange experiences around Glastonbury Tor, http://www.glastonburytor.org.uk/mysterytor.html

- The National Trust Glastonbury Tor Conservation Statement, February 1999:

http://www.glastonburytor.org.uk/conservation.html

- The Wikipedia entry on Annwn, at http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Annwn