All Things in Time

Chapter 2

Into the Panther's Lair

Into a strange wood where shadows loom,

Innocent feet fearfully tread.

White doe moves onward despite the gloom,

No chance to flee what lies ahead.

He waits, as silent as the night,

Master of stealth, cunning, precise.

His prey he lures, just out of sight,

Trespassers here must pay a price.

Too late she sees the shadows shift,

Wide doe eyes meet piercing stare.

Under this spell, her thoughts he sifts,

Can't escape the panther's lair.

Professor Snape had escorted the young lady to her chambers. She still seemed quite weak, and he had decided to enlist the help of a house elf to look after her until she was feeling herself again. He surely could not be bothered with such tasks. He needed to speak to the headmaster about this stranger. She might not be all that she seemed. Firstly, Muggles could not generally see the castle. To them, it should appear as merely a pile of ruins. But why then, did she seem to fear magic so entirely? Even the simplest things caused her great distress.

He strode down the hall to the headmaster's office, robes billowing out behind him, touching the air around him like the kiss of the night sky. He was full of purpose. If Lyssanne was here to harm him, or Dumbledore, or even the wizarding world at large, it was up to him to discover what she was about and how to stop her. What stranger turned up in the Forbidden Forest so near midnight without some business at Hogwarts? His steps quickened in time with the thumping of his pulse.

"Bubble gum ice cream," he said to the gargoyle at the entrance of Dumbledore's office.

He spoke with such clarity and determination that the entrance sprang open and the moving staircase carried him to the top twice as fast as it normally did.

Once at the top there was no need to knock. Dumbledore had been expecting him and the door opened efficiently before him. He stepped into the office, his strides covering the distance to Dumbledore's desk in a matter of seconds. He sat without being asked, thus saving the old man from speaking.

"She is hiding something," he told the headmaster without hesitation.

"Of that fact, I am quite aware. And, I am deeply interested in what it is she is hiding," Dumbledore replied.

"I could perform Legilimency on her," Severus suggested in a silky tone.

"I am not sure if that will be necessary," Dumbledore said thoughtfully.

"She lies," Professor Snape said rising to his feet. He began to pace the room, walking a few strides, then turning, his robes a whirlpool of darkness. "Her homeland does not exist. I have studied lands, and customs of other cultures, and magical practices; and I tell you there is no such place!" He stopped pacing and stood facing Dumbledore, waiting for a reply.

"I do not doubt your abilities, Severus," Dumbledore said leaning forward in his chair. "I cannot imagine why the girl would tell untruths about the land from which she came and how she happened to arrive here, at Hogwarts."

"She does not tell untruths."

One of the portraits was speaking now. Neither of the two men had seen him watching them, intently listening to the conversation. Severus turned to face the wall of portraits behind him.

This particular wizard was wearing blood red robes that appeared to be made of velvet. There was elaborate gold embroidery around his neckline and about his wrists. Severus had never paid attention to this particular portrait. He was clearly a Gryffindor and a quite powerful one at that. His hair was blond, despite his clearly aged and wrinkled face, and it sat against his head in tight curls. His green eyes twinkled brightly as he peered at Dumbledore. At least he had a very long beard, Snape thought; otherwise he would look too much like Gilderoy Lockheart.

"This land the young Miss speaks of was quite prosperous at one time." The former headmaster paused. "But that was long ago and it has been nearly five hundred years since I last heard talk of it."

Severus remained skeptical.

"I see," said Dumbledore. "Thank you for that information, Augustus. It is much appreciated."

"Anything to help the headmaster of Hogwarts at a time of need," Augustus said dramatically.

"Well - " Dumbledore began.

Augustus cleared his throat. Dumbledore shifted his gaze away from Severus to return on Augustus once more.

"I suppose you would like to know more about that land and how it was saved from an evil which attempted to dampen its every day?"

"I am not sure we are in need of such information," Severus said coldly, his stare piercing the portrait where Augustus sat quietly. "We are only concerned with matters involving the girl. I hardly have time for a history lesson, nor am I interested in any lesson which you will be teaching."

For a moment there was silence, then Augustus spoke.

"Yes, the tale is long but I assure you it is not dull." He placed his hands in his lap. "I am not offended that you do not want to hear me speak of the past. Few souls are willing to spend the time listening to these tales. Someday they will all be forgotten, and the girl will be a memory. No one will be left to listen. No one will know of her struggle."

"What struggle?" Snape snapped impatiently.

"I believe you shall need to discover other means of gleaning that information, since you are unwilling to hear my tale of long ago," Augustus said before he closed his eyes and slept.

Severus tried repeatedly to get the man to wake in his portrait and give more information. His attempts - which included name-calling, threats, and later pleading - were unsuccessful.

"I believe we might have a tool which can give us some valuable information," Dumbledore said finally, reaching for one of the many instruments on his desk.

The thing was rather fragile-looking and sparkled silver in the candlelight. Severus had not seen this particular tool used before. Without saying a word the headmaster tapped his wand on the small instrument which suddenly began to jiggle and tinkle. Wisps of green smoke rose in lazy spirals from a silver, wand-like projection on the top. The amount of smoke that issued from the tiny point of the instrument gradually increased. Soon a proper cloud of green smoke had formed in midair. Dumbledore was eyeing it curiously and muttering what seemed to be sounds of recognition under his breath.

Suddenly the cloud split into two masses of smoke. One, to Dumbledore's right, began to grow a darker green. Soon it was so dark it resembled the leaves of the trees in the Forbidden Forest at night. The cloud on Dumbledore's left became lighter in color, like clovers kissed by the sun. Snape did not know what these two clouds could mean. He thought, for a moment, that he saw figures moving about in the smoky images, but he could not be sure.

"Very interesting," Dumbledore said once the smoke had disappeared and he had returned the instrument to its place.

Severus folded his arms across his chest and waited for an explanation. He got none.

"Exactly what is very interesting?" he asked, sounding almost as though he were addressing one of his students.

"She holds a great deal in her hands. The past is the way it is because of her. We can not send her away; but we must discover what is so important to her, as I cannot see it myself."

"Then I shall perform Legilimency?"

"Yes, I now believe that to be the right course of action."

"I do not know what she is hiding, but I sense something odd about her. Even so, what could be so important in her head? She is almost an ordinary muggle, fainting at the word of magic. I hardly think she will be willing to stay here for long. She fears us more than most wizards fear dementors." Severus returned to his seat.

"She must stay. She must prepare for whatever this battle may be," Dumbledore said firmly. "Her people are depending on her. Everything waits for her return. Mistakes must not be made. Merlin knows I've made too many already." He rubbed his beard introspectively; remorse showing clearly on his wrinkled face.

"But, she is unfit to defend her people from whatever their troubles are. She is weak, fainting at the slightest thing."

"Ah, but she would appear weak to some," Dumbledore said leaning forward. "I suspect other matters are at hand. She was nearly on the verge of collapse when she arrived here. But, it was not because of her weaknesses, nor was it exhaustion from fear." The old man paused in thought. "I suspect a dark force is affecting her. We must help her to move onward. You can help her, Severus. You are much alike."

It appeared as though Dumbledore was finished talking. Snape was furious inside, like a cauldron bubbling more vigorously with each passing second. Why was it that he had to be the one to help her? She was the foolish one who had slipped forward in time, leaving her people and unfinished business behind. But Dumbledore had hinted that perhaps she had been sent here by some dark force. Could that be true? And, if it were true, would that dark force come looking for her? Would Severus be putting himself in danger by helping her? Besides that, how could the Headmaster think that he, Severus, and this Miss Caelestis were remotely similar? Had the old man crawled out of his head entirely?

As he left Dumbledore's office he became more curious about what the girl was thinking. He was eager to break into her mind. Her thoughts would not be secrets much longer.

***

Lyssanne jumped when she heard the knock at her chamber door the following morning. Her surprise was not due to sleep, as she had been awake for some time - most of the night, to be exact. She simply had not heard anyone approach.

Indeed, Lyssanne was surprised she had closed her eyes at all. Not only was she in a strange place, attempting to sleep in a bed unlike any she had ever seen, but what she had learned of the castle and, more importantly, its inhabitants, had been unsettling to say the least. And before she could even think to examine the rather odd furnishings of her chamber, a creature more at home in some dark legend had popped, quite literally, out of thin air. Lyssanne still marveled at her decided lack of reaction to that event. She supposed her senses had been so saturated with the shocking and strange that she had simply been unable to do anything but stare in horror.

Lend your mind to shock and horror and they shall visit you, Lyssanne thought as another, more insistent, knock jolted her from her reverie. Hurrying to open the door, she found Professor Snape, once more dressed entirely in black, waiting in the corridor.

"Good morning, Miss Caelestis," he said, as though he'd rather be someplace else.

"Good morn to you Mil- um- Professor," she replied as cheerfully as possible considering who, and what, this man was.

"If you are ready," he said, as though the alternative would be intolerable, "we shall take breakfast in my office. There seem to be several things which we need to discuss." He waved a hand, indicating that she was to proceed as he held the door for her.

They walked a short distance to the end of the corridor. Lyssanne followed the professor around a large statue of a dragon, whose outstretched wings almost entirely concealed the entrance to an ancient-looking stairwell. They began to descend a curving flight of stone stairs that seemed to lead into the very center of the earth. A thick blanket of dust lay atop the steps as if attempting to warm a cold, unyielding bed. The fading light from above cast an eerie glow upon the sparkling particles floating about their feet, creating the illusion that they were walking among starlit clouds. As they at last reached the bottom, Lyssanne observed the dank, dark stone walls and insubstantial light produced by torches in wall brackets. A growing sense of dread washed over her as she followed the professor down the shadowy corridor. The moisture glistening on the stone walls, the muffling of all sound as though they had entered a tomb, and the barely-breached darkness could mean only one thing; they were in a dungeon.

Instantly, Lyssanne's mind was flooded with images from old stories she had heard as a child - horrible stories of torture and other unthinkable atrocities committed in just such a place. However, she had no time to ponder what fate might await her, as her escort stopped so abruptly that she nearly collided with him. He turned to a door on their right and spoke some incomprehensible phrase. Snape opened the door and once again indicated that she should precede him. A fire burned in a corner of the room. The walls were lined with shelves, which held jars whose contents Lyssanne did not wish to contemplate. She noticed two covered trays and a shallow stone basin, whose contents shimmered in the firelight, atop a large, scarred desk.

"Sit," her host said abruptly, gesturing to a chair opposite his desk.

In one fluid motion he removed the covers from the breakfast trays, sat quietly in his chair and lifted his goblet to drink.

Lyssanne wondered briefly why they were to dine in such an inappropriate place as an office. Surely such customs must seem improper, even to those who followed such dark pursuits as sorcery. Pushing these thoughts aside, she gazed hungrily at the sumptuous food before her. It had been so long since her last meal, but did she dare eat this? She could feel the professor watching her and unwillingly looked up at him.

"The food is not poisoned, Miss Caelestis," he stated, his words dripping with contempt. "I can assure you, had I wished to cause you harm, I would have done so while we were still in the forest. I would not have brought you here had I thought it better to do otherwise."

His words did make sense, she supposed. Still, she cringed inwardly at the casual way he had mentioned precisely when and where he could have harmed her if he'd wished. Even though he had seemed genuinely affronted by her suspicions, Lyssanne got the impression that, if crossed, this man was capable of almost anything. She must be especially cautious in his presence, choosing her words and actions as carefully as picking her way across snake-infested stones.

"Forgive me," she said a bit shyly. "It was not my wish to offend you, Professor." She truly hoped she had not greatly insulted him; for, to cause another the slightest grief was a thing she could not bear.

As they ate, he began asking her questions.

"What year were you born?" he asked pausing after resting his fork on his plate.

"In the year of our Lord fourteen hundred sixty-eight" Lyssanne answered matter-of-factly.

"So that would make you exactly how old? I do not believe my arithmetic abilities are adequate for such an equation," he said. His voice made Lyssanne shiver.

"I have lived twenty-eight years."

"I see. And what sort of work have you applied yourself to in these twenty-eight years?"

"I have charge over the children of Llytlesby," she said with renewed confidence. "I direct their learning and community responsibilities."

"I should like to see how one would go about influencing another's sense of responsibility. There are, most certainly, several students who attend this school, who could benefit from such lessons. For those select few, I have found, only physical restraint and laborious activities slow their progress with regard to rule breaking. Yet, their sense of responsibility suffers little alteration."

"Oh," Lyssanne breathed, trying to keep her face devoid of the horror welling up inside her. Surely the man must jest, though humor, even of such a dark kind, seemed completely out of place with such a man. But could these people truly be so cruel? Were there, even now, children confined behind one of the doors she had seen down the dungeon hallway, strapped to some horrid device, awaiting who-knew-what? Were errant students forced to do slave labor for childish misdeeds?

Lyssanne shuddered inwardly, knowing that she could never countenance such acts. She rarely spoke a harsh word to anyone, let alone one of her precious charges. How could anyone harm a child? It was the same question she had asked Funestra, but this time Lyssanne held her silence.

Lyssanne was dragged away from her thoughts as the professor's icy voice reached her ears.

"How was it that you became educated enough to endure such a daunting task? Surely your village is not large enough to hold a university within its boundaries, yet you claim you have not left it in your lifetime."

"No, Llytlesby is a small peasant village. The only university in all of Lastarra is near the palace in Vishta, and only the highest nobility are admitted. Friar Thinsby, who was once clerk to the king, instructed me in letters when I was quite young, then later in mathematics, history, and some languages. He claims he has no head for science, but encouraged me to read anything and everything of interest. Friar Thinsby has a great collection of volumes and often receives more as gifts from the nobles he once served."

A sudden wave of apprehension passed through Lyssanne's heart. Had she revealed too much? Would Friar Thinsby now be in danger? No, she silently assured herself, Professor Snape hadn't even heard of Lastarra. Surely he would not attempt to harm anyone there.

"What an interesting education you have received. At this school it would not be enough to sustain a professorship. However, it is fascinating to hear you speak of the kindness of others. Their charity is immense no matter how poor their provisions to you might have been," he said with a sneer.

He stood without further comment and removed the breakfast trays briskly. When Lyssanne took a second look at where they had been, they were no longer there.

Following his cue, Lyssanne stood as well, thinking it was now time to leave this place. Before she could take a step, however, the professor was blocking her path. He stood between her and the desk. He was entirely too close - and too tall, but her legs were against the chair behind her, allowing no retreat.

***

"Miss Caelestis," Severus said coldly, drawing out her name in a low hiss as he stepped forward to get a closer look into her eyes.

Clearly his customary intimidating manner was affecting her. Perhaps it was working too well, as she looked up only slightly. She was gazing at his throat as if it were his throat speaking to her rather than his lips.

The girl took in a shuddering breath and whispered shakily, "Yes?"

When she still hesitated to meet his eyes, he placed a finger beneath her chin and lifted her gaze to his. As he did so, he surreptitiously slid his wand from the sleeve of his other arm. He must act quickly before she had the chance to avert her eyes, as was her custom. She could not know; however, that once the spell was cast, she would be incapable of looking away. Swiftly Severus mumbled the words that would lock her gaze to his and reveal all he needed to know.

As the spell took hold, his first impression was that he had been mistaken in his earlier assessment. This was not the mind of a gifted liar. In fact, he doubted that she was capable of convincingly telling the smallest untruth. Entering her thoughts was as simple a task as walking through the open doors of Hogwarts into the bright sunlight. There were none of the natural barriers the mind erects automatically to guard its secrets. Well, there was one, but it was fragile and would be easy enough for him to breach.

Scenes from her life began to flash before him. She stood gazing sadly upon two graves, those of her parents judging from the family name etched into the crude markers. One seemed fairly new and bore the date, November 1, 1482. She appeared considerably younger than she was now, perhaps in her early teens... Colors swirled as a new scene took shape. Slightly older now, she leaned against a tree with a look of pure delight as she read from a tattered book... She was sitting on a hillside; her eyes alight with joy as she gazed at the children surrounding her. The attention of each child, whether toddler or teen, was focused intently upon her as she favored them with a radiant smile... She knelt in the grass in front of a small cottage, clutching her head between her hands, in obvious agony...

As Severus pushed past the thin barrier, which held her one secret, he realized that this memory was quite recent. She was dressed in the same garment in which he had first seen her. The memory came alive in such vivid detail that he could actually sense everything as she had felt it - the mixture of dread and determination as she faced a dark-haired woman in an elegant black gown, the searing pain in her arm as part of a well-concocted potion made contact despite her attempts to dodge it, her shock as she watched a healthy tree turn to ash, the sensation of falling rapidly through darkness, and the frightening sense of unfamiliarity as she fell to the ground in the Forbidden Forest.

"Finite Incantatem," Severus whispered, stepping away from her.

The girl sank into her chair, looking fatigued and a bit disoriented. As he turned his back to her in order to place the memory of what he had just witnessed into the headmaster's pensieve, Severus mused that she was probably wondering exactly what had just happened to her. He turned to face her once more and caught a fleeting glimpse of her eyes before she looked away. The accusation and fear he had seen there told him that she was well aware of his intrusion into her thoughts. While she might lack experience in a great many areas, Severus thought she more than made up for it in intelligence. One thing troubled him, however. In that brief moment when their gazes had met, he realized that the spark of hope, which he had found to be ever-present in her royal-blue eyes, had diminished to near nonexistence.

"Are you feeling ill, Miss Caelestis?"

"I-I uh -" she was at a loss for words.

"Perhaps you could benefit from this?" He stepped forward holding out a goblet of water.

She took it reluctantly. Her hands were shaking violently. Her mistrust was palpable, though he couldn't blame the girl for her misgivings, especially now that he had assaulted her mind.

He watched her expectantly. She raised the goblet, bringing it closer to her lips, but did not drink from it.

"Something happened that I cannot explain."

"Yes, many mysterious things seem to occur within these castle walls." He crossed his arms, his lips a thin line. "Water," he emphasized the word and gestured to the goblet, "will help you to feel more...normal."

She took two small sips and did not speak.

"Perhaps I should take you to your chambers so you can rest for the remainder of the day. I believe you have had a long and eventful journey." He extended a hand to help her to her feet. He would have preferred if she had risen on her own but she seemed incapable of doing so. "The house elves will bring you lunch, and then you will be expected in the Great Hall for dinner."

She made no comment as he led her down the hall to her rooms.

He opened the door to her chambers and she stepped inside. He entered just behind her, only following a step or two.

"If you should need anything inform the house elf who will check on you periodically." He turned to leave and, without looking back, added, "I must warn you against wandering the halls, as it is quite easy to get oneself lost." He stepped over the threshold and made to pull the door closed behind him.

"Um, Professor...Sir?"

He wondered what she could want from him. Doubtless, something that could be provided by the least of the house elves.

He turned in the doorway to face her but did not re-enter the room.

"I know this is not quite a proper request, but as I...I have no one else to ask - "

"Go on Miss Caelestis, I don't have all day," he said impatiently.

"Can you...would you be so kind as to tell me where I might find a chamber pot?" she asked shyly.

"We do not use such things," he said matter-of-factly.

She looked entirely shocked and stood quite still.

"Have you not investigated the restroom, or was it unfavorable?" he asked, well aware of the sarcasm dripping from each word.

"What is this room you speak of? It is not rest which I am seeking."

He grew agitated. Was the girl so daft that she had refrained from using the facilities since her arrival last night? Bursting into the room he glided across it in a few fluid strides. He grasped the knob of a quite plain door and pulled it open with such force that it would have crashed against the wall if he had paused long enough to release the knob from his grasp.

"This room," he said gesturing into the small room beyond the door. "Surely you have seen one similar?"

"No," she replied, apparently still quite confused.

"It is called indoor plumbing. We, that is to say, everyone, have been using it for several hundred years." He emphasized the word several as he turned to look at her.

"And what is this plumbing?" she asked quite seriously.

"You know the water that runs from taps, it spills forth from pipes in the walls!" He grew increasingly impatient and perhaps even a bit angry with her.

"Water indoors? No buckets or pumps?"

"Certainly not."

Perhaps the graves in her vision were not new after all. The dates were not a mistake and just maybe Dumbledore was right about her date and place of birth. Yes, it was even clearer that this girl was of the distant past. A past which Severus had only read about. Some things would need explaining to her.

"And what is that chair, some sort of...of converted chamber pot?" the girl asked.

"Yes," in the mirror his face appeared very angry and frustrated, his cheeks reddened. "One would sit, and carry out...certain tasks, and then push the lever," he demonstrated and, when the toilet flushed loudly, the girl's hand flew to her chest to clutch at the fabric of her gown. "And the water and...things are taken away in pipes." At the shocked look on her face he quickly added, "Different pipes from the ones that bring the water to this room."

"I see," said Lyssanne, obviously fascinated. "I have read of the engineering feats of the ancient Romans, Greeks, and Egyptians. I even heard rumor from a traveler that the king of Crete has something similar to this chair...thing. Yet, I have never come upon such a room as this. The castle is a most wondrous place and I feel so deeply honored to be your guest."

"As I cannot waste such a precious thing as time, I will leave you to your fascination with water pipes and your musings regarding honor. Good day, Miss Caelestis." And with a swish of robes, he did just that.