The Way Back to Daylight

Author's Notes: Thanks to my reviewers and to cursedinsanity for an excellent beta! See Chapter One for full notes.

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 Seven

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"Cerberus," said Remus, putting the sandwich down.

"I'm sorry?"

"I just remembered; I wanted to ask you about Cerberus."

Remus paused, gathering his thoughts, but his mind wasn't on the three-headed dog. Why would Minos suddenly want to harm him? And what had the sandwich smelt like? If it was poison, he wasn't familiar with it.

"It puzzled me when Cerberus didn't appear," he said. "I offered him food, but there was no sign of him. It was disturbing - I thought he'd leap out at any moment."

"Oh, he's not what he used to be," Minos replied, with a wave of his hand that scattered cigar ash across the desk. "He isn't immortal, you know, and lately he's been falling asleep on the job. The King is looking for a replacement and he's terribly upset. I'm afraid we'll have to put old Cerberus down."

Remus couldn't care less, but managed a frown of concern. "Oh ... well, that's a shame. Lucky for me, though, I suppose."

Minos nodded and finished the last of his brandy. Remus struggled not to stare at the sandwich, and he sensed Minos was doing the same. It seemed ridiculous to be so concerned about a peanut butter sandwich, but neither man could help it; between them, the sandwich sat as though about to explode.

Perhaps it is about to explode, thought Remus, agitated.

"Well, I'll be off," he said, getting to his feet. He tried to smile, but only managed a slight curve of his lips. "Thank you so much for your time."

Minos raised his eyebrows. "You don't want to finish your sandwich?"

Remus shrugged as he pulled on his pack. "I'm quite full," he replied, patting his stomach. "I'd best be on my way."

"Very well."

Relieved, Remus produced a genuine smile. Minos returned it, but his eyes had changed; they'd grown blank and dark, inhuman, like the piercing glare of a raven. His grey hair was streaked with black, and there was something sharp about the tilt of his mouth.

Remus turned and walked quickly to the door. He slid his hand into his robes and clasped his wand, though he doubted magic would be any use. This was Minos's opportunity to attack, and there would be no way to bribe or trick his way out. If Minos decided to kill him, it would happen in a heartbeat. He would find himself staring down at his own lifeless body.

By the time he reached the door and took hold of the knob, Remus was shaking. Then he remembered what Minos had told him: I only judge the dead. Maybe Minos wasn't able to directly attack the living? That would explain the subterfuge with the sandwich, Remus realised. If Minos could have killed him outright, he would surely be dead already.

"Have a safe journey," Minos called. His voice was like the caw of an angry bird, hard and grating.

"I'll do my best," Remus replied, without turning his head.

As he stepped out of the room, pulling the door shut behind him, he was relieved to find himself in the corridor he'd entered from. He'd been expecting Minos's two brothers to jump out at him, but he couldn't see anyone.

Still cautious, Remus pressed his back to the wall and took out his wand, retracing his steps as quickly as possible. Down the corridor, down the stairs, to the right, then to the left, then to the right again. He opened a door, expecting to find the entrance foyer, but there was just another corridor lined with blank doors. Thinking he'd missed a turn, he went back a little and tried again, but there was still no sign of an exit.

"Bastard," he muttered, understanding.

The courthouse had become a maze, though there was little point trying to solve it. This was a trap, not a labyrinth, and Remus would be stuck until he ran out of supplies and died of starvation. Minos wasn't able to murder anyone, but he was free to change the shape of his own house. Defeated for the moment, Remus took off his pack and leant against the wall, wishing he'd brought a few bottles of Firewhiskey.

"Minos?" he called. "I've obviously upset you, and I'm truly sorry. Please let me out of here so I can fulfill this blasted prophecy."

There was no answer.

"I know you can hear me," Remus continued, raising his voice even louder. "At least tell me what I did to offend you."

He wasn't really expecting a response. When none came, he thought for a moment, going through his options. Apparation was at the top of the list, but the idea made him wary. Apparating in the Underworld seemed a risky venture; everything was fluid and unstable, shaped by his ideas and beliefs. He could end up anywhere, stuck in anything, or even splinched in an unusual way.

Of course, he thought, it might not be possible to Apparate.

He closed his eyes and probed the courthouse for anti-Apparation wards. A few seconds later he flinched, clutching his head, as the wards repelled his magic. They weren't like the ones at Hogwarts, but Remus had felt them before, in various secret enclaves around the world; they were the kind that splinched you into pieces so tiny, you would appear to disintegrate. He could try to unlock them, but it wasn't worth the risk.

What else was there to try? His second option, he decided, was to explore the rooms behind each of the unmarked doors, in search of someone or something that could help. After slinging on his pack and tucking his wand into his pocket, he threw open the nearest door.

There was nothing behind it. Outer-space, maybe, but there were no stars or galaxies, just darkness without air or movement. Remus pushed the door closed and strode over to the next one. It was the same, but this time he thought he heard whispers, very faint, echoing out of the airless void.

"Like the veil," he whispered. He remembered what Sybill had told him about the veil: it led directly into death. These portals had probably been set up by Minos in the hope that Remus would pass through, just as Sirius had fallen.

Remus slammed the door. "Let me out of here!" he shouted, staring around at the straight, corporate design of the grey walls and ceiling.

He thought the corridor seemed narrower than before, and wondered if claustrophobia was affecting him, or whether Minos was using the courthouse to swallow and devour him. He panicked for a moment, pale and panting with his forehead pressed to the wall. Then it came to him: a third option.

Remus reached deep into his pocket and drew out the golden twig, still wrapped in two handkerchiefs. With shaky hands, he peeled them away, then clutched the twig to his chest and felt its warmth spread through him. The sensation was just as it had been in the British Museum, only stronger; his whole body seemed to glow with light and peace.

He knew what he needed to do. "Proserpine," he muttered, "look into my mind if you need to, but please believe me. I've come to see my lover and fulfill a prophecy. Grant me safe passage."

His feet left the ground. For a moment he floated, immersed in a golden heat that felt like love. In those few seconds he forgot everything: the lycanthropy that had brought him countless hours of agony, and years of solitude and poverty; those first nights without Sirius, when he could hardly breathe and couldn't sleep; all the battles against Voldemort and all the losses; and finally, knowledge of his own mistakes and misdeeds.

Then he landed on his feet, at an awkward angle that jarred his knees and sent him sprawling with an "Oof!" His face and palms grazed against the ground, his head connecting with a crack, and for a moment he blacked out.

---

It was dark twilight, but when his vision adjusted he could see well enough. Brown, broken pine needles mixed in with the white stones of a path, and gnarled tree roots further off. He knew he was in a forest from the smell, resin and a carpet of rotting needles, but there was none of the usual animal musk. He could smell something else, though: old human blood, stinking like rain-soaked, rusted iron.

Remus flinched as he scrambled to his feet. He was exhausted, with pain in his joints and behind his eyes. Looking at his surroundings, he steeled himself for the sight of the dead, or at least of their blood, but there was only the forest, towering dark pines that blocked out most of the light. He stared up at the few patches of sky; no stars, and it seemed as though the sun had just set.

Up ahead, the path wound between massive black trunks. It was thin, sparse and looked in danger of petering out, but the white stones reassured Remus, reminding him of his mother's favourite fairytale about children lost in the woods.

Before continuing, he reached into his pack and pulled out a slim vial of Invigoration Draught, draining it in two swallows. He wiped his mouth, already feeling much better, and watched as the vial filled itself up with another dose. Sleep was what he really longed for, but it would have to wait; there was Minos to consider, and the threatening smell of blood. Anything could come crawling out of the dark woods, and Remus didn't want to put all of his faith in the golden twig. It had saved him once, but there was no guarantee that Proserpine would be generous a second time.

He checked through his other supplies, worried that Minos might have taken something, but his rations seemed to be in order and he still had his books. Frowning thoughtfully, he looked through the Aeneid until he reached the part about Minos, then flipped further. He'd forgotten the next section, but it came back to him as he read.

"Aeneas journeys into the forest of mourning: the home of those whose despair holds them back from heaven and hell," Remus muttered, summarising as he scanned the text. "He meets his lover Dido, who committed suicide when he abandoned her...but what does she do? She refuses to speak and -"

Something rustled and Remus glanced in the direction of the sound. He thought he saw someone walk between the trees, pale-faced in a long black cloak, but it was only a glimpse and he decided his tired brain was playing tricks on him. He closed the book and slid it back in his pack; in a few moments, he was walking down the path at a brisk, quiet pace, with his eyes and ears focused on the forest.

---

After he'd walked for a long time without seeing anything, Remus's mind wandered to his conversation with Minos. He wanted to understand the situation, but there was too much that didn't make sense. He tried to convince himself that Minos had been planning something all along, and had only appeared charming at first because he'd wanted to hear about the prophecy. This would have made a tidy explanation, but it didn't ring true: Minos hadn't started behaving oddly until Remus had mentioned Sirius.

How could Sirius have left such a negative impression? It wasn't as though Minos was a Hogwarts Professor, who would always remember how the eldest Black boy turned the Slytherins pink on Valentine's Day. To Minos, Sirius should have been nothing more than another angry, arrogant, shouting soul, one of the thousands that passed through each day. His death had been unusual, but surely there were many strange, magic-related deaths occurring all the time. The veil itself, according to Sybill, was a passage straight to final judgement, and Minos might not have even noticed the difference.

Remus shook his head and rubbed the crease between his eyes. He didn't understand and he wasn't going to understand, but maybe he'd be able to ask Sirius. Aside from Minos, Sirius was the only one who'd know, and perhaps be willing to boast about it as though he'd pulled a spectacular prank. The thought made Remus smile.

He'd grown hungry, so he stopped and reached into his pack, pulling out a crisp red apple. As he ate, he thought about the sandwich he'd left in Minos's office. It hadn't been flavoured with poison or tainted in any other way: otherwise he would have picked up a foreign scent, separate from the peanut butter and bread. But if nothing had been added, what had changed? Maybe something had been taken away.

Remus chewed thoughtfully, staring out through the trees, until he understood what the sandwich had been missing: its vitality. Minos had drained the life from it, turning it into the food of the dead. If Remus had eaten it he would have been trapped forever in the Underworld, like Proserpine with her pomegranate: a cold existence between life and death, in darkness, without the touch of anything but gods and demons.

Probably best not to dwell on it, Remus thought, suppressing a shudder.

He finished his apple and dropped the core onto the path. He doubted it would decompose, but at least it would add some novelty to the dreary woods. Adjusting his pack, he turned and resumed trudging along the path, dreaming of a hot cup of tea, crumpets and some morning sunshine.

Then he froze, staring, his pulse pounding.

Severus Snape was standing a few yards ahead, right beside the path. Dressed in dour black robes, with jaundiced bony features and lank hair covering his ears and forehead, he looked as he had his whole life, down to the sneer on his thin lips. He was staring at Remus with contempt in his eyes, but behind it was pure sorrow and pain that made Remus's heart clench.

"Severus?" he whispered, walking closer.

Snape kept glaring and didn't say a word. There was thick, crimson blood dripping from his chest, leaking down over his black robes and onto his thin white hands. He wasn't breathing, but that wasn't surprising; he'd been dead for years, since the last battle against Voldemort. In the end he'd been hailed as a hero after saving Harry's life, but no one had known for certain where his loyalties had lain.

Remus had always pitied Snape, but he'd tried to hide his feelings, knowing from experience how much crueller pity could be than hatred. Despite this, at school he'd never tried to stand up for Snape or help him in any way. He'd been afraid to damage the few friendships he'd made, and of being just as isolated and pitiable as 'Snivellus'.

In the end they'd both spent much of their lives as lonely, impoverished men, neither of them handsome and both proud in their own ways. Remus had often thought about apologising for his inaction at Hogwarts, knowing how his help and support might have kept Snape from the Death Eaters. He'd also known how little his apology would mean to Snape, coming from a werewolf. Snape's fear and loathing of dark creatures was ingrained, and there was nothing Remus could have done to change that.

Even so, he'd been given one last chance to apologise and offer his help, and he wasn't going to let it slip away. He opened his mouth to speak, but Snape turned his head, looking over his shoulder. Remus followed his gaze.

In the woods, leaning against a tree, was a tall, fair-skinned man with black hair, and grey eyes that gleamed even in the gloom.

---

"Far below a furry moon
Our purposes crossed
The weird divide
Between our kinds

The silver leaves of ailing trees
Took flights as we passed so long ago
But a short time I know"

- The Shins, Weird Divide

---

Notes: The pine forest is actually: "The vale of mourning...a region where those consumed by the wasting torments of merciless love haunt the sequestered alleys and myrtle groves that give them cover; death itself cannot cure them of love's disease." (Aeneid, p. 170, Oxford World Classics Edition)

Here is a description of Dido: "Amongst them, with her death-wound still bleeding, through the deep wood was straying Phoenician Dido." (Aeneid, p. 171, Oxford World Classics Edition)