The Trail of the Black Star

************************

Cusco, Peru

25 June, 10:21PM

The flight was uneventful and thankfully short. He sighed with dismay as he gazed at the craggy peaks and moonlit jungles that swathed the mountains in velvety darkness. Finding an orchid in that would be like finding a demiguise in a fog bank. Plan D was sounding better and better The leggy brunette who had insisted upon staring at him the entire flight had brushed her lips against his cheek as they left the plane and handed him the number for the hotel at which she'd be staying. There were a thousand promises in her breathy voice and smouldering eyes. Severus promptly tossed the napkin into the bin as soon as she was out of sight. It wouldn't do to have distractions, and finding the orchid was his primary goal. He had precious little time as it was.

The June air was cold, which made a certain amount of sense at an elevation of 3,400 metres. So this was Cusco, the former seat of the Incan Empire and doorstep to Machu Picchu and countless other no-doubt fascinating ruins. He suppressed a yawn. After recent trips to India, China, Italy, Egypt, Pakistan, Thailand, Mexico, and Texas, he'd seen enough examples of man's hubris to last a lifetime. The grandeur and complexity of the natural world was far more interesting.

He hailed a cab and was able to direct the driver to the bed and breakfast in the Artists' District that was owned by an acquaintance of Filius'. She turned out to be an English witch of indeterminate age who reminded Severus strongly of Professor Sprout. She had decorated her home with Incan carvings and textiles that might have been quite attractive had she not crammed every available space with them. He greeted her tersely, but she was nonetheless glad to see him, having expected him two days earlier. She ushered him into the sitting room where she conjured up some tea. It was not quite to Severus' exacting specifications, but it was a marked improvement over restaurant teabags.

"It's such a shame you missed the Festival of the Sun. That's what everyone comes to see," she said, pouring him a cup. "Still, there are so many beautiful examples architecture in the area and so many charming neighbourhoods. You'll be wanting to see the ruins tomorrow, no doubt. Milk or sugar?"

"No ruins, no milk, and no sugar." He took the cup she offered and inhaled deeply. Young black tea leaves, a dash of rose hips - and was that coca? The old bird spiked her tea with coca leaves! She had gone native.

"Then you're here to see the churches? They're quite impressive, and the pulpit of San Blas is just spectacular. Quite a diamond in the rough."

"No."

She went on as if she hadn't heard him. "The mix of architectural styles here is quite fascinating, I'm sure you'll find. Everything old is built on top of something even older, even the churches! Naturally, a city that's been around for so long has many stories to tell. I told Filius in a letter last week that Cusco is as old as Hogwarts and has far more history in its own way. But of course, I've lived here for so many years that I know almost all of them!"

Severus grunted in response, hoping to end the conversation and get some sleep as quickly as possible.

"So, what brings you here, Professor? Work or pleasure?"

"Work, Ms. Rose."

"Oh, tosh, call me Vidalia. And it's so nice to see a young man like yourself so devoted to being a professor!"

Severus pursed his lips. He started teaching because it was part of his informant deal with Albus and he only tolerated it now for the use of Hogwarts's state-of-the-art facilities and for summer holidays. He was a Potions Master first and foremost, and it irked him to be known by the more general title, "professor." Albus' lax attitude toward modes of address had always irritated him. Of course, Severus had been in no position to insist on being called "Master" when Albus hired him. He also had no desire to talk to Ms. Rose about it.

"Quite. If you will excuse me, Vidalia, I've a number of things to do tomorrow."

"Of course, of course. Your room is up the stairs, the second door on the right. The WC is across the hall. What time will you be waking tomorrow?"

"I will require breakfast at four."

"So early? I must make sure you get some more of my special energizing tea. I get it from an expatriate American who lives in the District. He's quite a character. But heavens! We should both be in bed! I'll put the lights out down here. Good night, Professor."

"Vidalia."

His bedroom was positively Spartan compared to the haphazard knickknack décor of the other rooms, to his great relief. He didn't fancy trying to fall asleep with grotesque faces leering at him from the shadows. After stowing his gear in a highboy that had been garishly painted with native birds, he allowed himself to relax on the bed. Reflecting on the tedium of the past day was more than enough to quickly put him to sleep.

***************************************

12 Km Northeast of Aqsaywaman Archaeological Park, Peru

26 June, 6:57AM

The sun rising in the cloud forests of the Andes was a spectacular sight. However, Severus was in no state to appreciate it. His breath was coming in ragged gasps, and he was feeling decidedly queasy. The potion he had taken was having only marginal effect. He should have known better than to use an altitude potion invented by a Dutchman. What did the Dutch know of altitudes above sea level, much less the Andes?

His guide was a crafty-eyed Muggle named Puquio, who had been recommended with a sly wink by Vidalia. Puquio had conveyed to him in broken Spanish and English that he knew the area well and no qualms about helping collectors obtain rare species from areas protected by the government.

"But what about the park officials?" Severus had asked.

Puquio slung an automatic rifle over his shoulder and grinned.

Severus's hand hadn't left his wand since.

Severus had insisted on accompanying Puquio into the park, since he had had only a vague description of the orchid he was looking for. The document from which he had learned of the orchid's existence was a 19^th century translation of a translation of an Incan poem, and the details were sketchy at best. But Puquio was adamant that if the orchid existed in the park, he could find it. He even hinted that he had seen an orchid that was completely black. Severus was doubtful of this claim. He hoped he wouldn't have to help jog Puquio's memory. His services were exorbitantly expensive as it was. Puquio's unctuous persuasions had finally ceased after a very firm, "I'll know it when I see it" in a tone that would have sent first years scrambling to remove themselves from his presence.

Fortunately, Puquio seemed to know where he was going, and he had not yet attempted to rob or shoot Severus. While the man seemed to have a knack for finding the steepest and most relentlessly uphill trails, he also had a knack for locating exquisite specimens of the local flora. He'd already found some breathtaking -and not just because of the smell- Pleurothallis apthosa that Sprout would probably sell her mother to have. Puquio harvested a young plant and stoppered it in a glass flask with deceptive ease, presumably for another collector. That would fetch a tidy packet, if he knew the right place to sell it.

None too soon for Severus' aching lungs, Puquio sat down heavily on a fallen tree and pulled out a leather water skin. He indicated for Severus to do the same.

"We rest here now. Trail is muy steep ahead."

Severus' stomach lurched. If what they'd done already wasn't muy steep, he wasn't sure he could make it much further without depositing Vidalia's hearty English breakfast and energising tea behind a tree. The language barrier kept Severus' tongue in check, and he certainly wasn't about to open his mouth unnecessarily. He nodded at Puquio and joined him on the tree trunk, dribbling water from his own flask on his forehead. The surface of the metal was viscid from the cool, damp air.

Severus wasn't sure whether to blame the heavy vegetation or the lingering morning mist for the unpleasantly moist conditions. Puquio had warned him that there would probably be rain in the afternoon, and he had brought a Muggle waterproof in case the resisting charm he'd placed on his jacket wasn't sufficient. The sudden silence unnerved him. When the sun began to come up, he thought he'd go mad from the increasing levels of birdsong. But the birds had quieted gradually, leaving the trees steeped in a pregnant silence. A sudden breeze stirred the thick foliage and sent the mist swirling around their feet. Severus felt his hackles rise. From wary look that darted across Puquio's features, he was put off by the unnatural quiet, too.

Severus caught his eye. "What is it?"

Puquio squinted, struggling to think of the word in English. "Puma." He suddenly unslung his rifle and fired a shot into the air. The report sent a few birds up into the canopy shrieking into the skies overhead and echoed through the trees. "That will scare it off."

"You fool, you'll bring the authorities down on us in an instant!"

Puquio's smile would have been reassuring if it hadn't displayed both rows of teeth. "We move. Now."

Severus had the nasty feeling that Puquio would leave him for the notoriously trigger-happy park rangers if he didn't move quickly enough. He was about to issue a general threat against doing so when Puquio grabbed his arm and shushed him.

"Escuche!"

He heard it. He thought it was the wind at first, but it was far too rhythmic. Was it the sound of breathing? No. It sounded like wings. Giant wings. But the wingbeats sounded like they were coming from far overhead, above the canopy, and they were too loud to be a bird, even a condor. Oh no. It couldn't be- He thought very quickly back to his Care of Magical Creatures classes for something helpful. He vaguely remembered something about hovering before diving down upon their-

"GET DOWN!" He yelled at Puquio as he threw himself to the ground and rolled into a depression underneath the tree trunk. Puquio joined him just before a thunderous cracking of branches came from overhead. A whoosh of air and an angry shriek signalled that three metres of angry Peruvian Vipertooth had just lost the advantage against its favourite prey.

Severus barely had time to pull out his wand before the dragon had wheeled around in the air and attempted another pass. He aimed at the charging dragon and bellowed, "STUPEFY!"

The spell glanced off the dragon's coppery scales and sailed harmlessly into the trees. Fortunately, the dragon was surprised enough by the spell that it sailed over their shelter instead of landing and attacking. This was their only chance.

Severus could cast an invulnerability spell on himself, but that wouldn't help Puquio. If he told Puquio to run, the Vipertooth would chase him down as soon as he realized that Severus was inedible. The only way was to get between the dragon and Puquio and put up such a fight that the dragon would forget about the guide. It certainly wasn't a winner as far as plans went, but it would have to do. He pointed his wand at himself and murmured, "Contego."

Instantly, he was enveloped in a globe of faint blue light. He jumped out and waved his arms at the approaching dragon. It roared and flew at him, jaws open wide. Severus braced for impact.

"Cuntur Inti!"

Severus almost spun around when he heard the voice behind him, but the dragon was a more immediate threat. A golden beam shot from somewhere to the left, and hit the dragon in the chest. It froze in midair, and shrieked in frustration. Immediately, another spell came.

"Stupefy!"

The red beam hit the dragon squarely in the face. It collapsed heavily to the ground.

Severus spun around and found himself face to face with an Amazon. She was tall and wore a kind of red tunic that left her muscled arms exposed. Powerful legs were encased in soft leather leggings, and she wore heavy belt adorned with what appeared to be teeth. She held a wand in each hand, and both were pointed at him. Her skin was darkly tanned and wild tendrils of hair framed the stormy look on her face. She was a vision of strength. She was magnificent.

And before he had time to process that information, she cursed him.

It wasn't a particularly nasty spell, just a petrifying curse. He felt the protective globe around him absorb the spell's magic, and it began to glow more brightly.

She looked rather surprised that her spell had failed, but immediately put up her own protective spell. Very clever. She'd placed them on equal footing, essentially creating an impasse. It was impossible to take offensive magical action with the invulnerability spell in place, even with two wands. Good. He'd rather resolve this matter without casualties.

But the Amazon had different ideas. To Severus' great shock, she ran at him. Hard. The full force of the collision threw him to the ground and knocked what little breath he had left forcefully from his lungs. Unable to process any action other than getting air to his brain, he dropped his defensive shield. With a rasping gasp, he instinctively threw himself to the left as another petrifying curse sizzled past him. She had dropped her defensive spell in another attempt to subdue him and was nearly on top of him. Well, he thought with a smirk, she was in for a surprise if she thought he was just going to lie there for her.

He was about to send a disarming spell her way - not expecting it to disarm her, but rather to gauge her reaction time - when a gunshot cracked from behind him. The woman crumpled to the ground with a cry of pain and surprise. He forced himself to stand and found Puquio's rifle aimed at him. His eyes were wild, and beads of sweat stood out on his forehead. He gestured to the wand in Severus' hand with the barrel of his gun.

"P'ajpaku," he growled. "You are like her. I leave. You follow and I shoot." He looked over his shoulder as if he meant to leave, but paused and gave a predatory smile. "Your wallet. Now."

Severus didn't think twice before summoning the gun and bashing Puquio into unconsciousness with the butt. That miserable crook wasn't worth wasting offensive magic on. He glanced at the stunned dragon. He wondered if it would have left him alone he'd let it eat Puquio.

He walked over to where the injured witch lay. Odd, she didn't appear to be bleeding. From the way her wands lay in her hands, he suspected that her unconsciousness was an act to draw him closer and put him off his guard. He wasn't about to fall for that. With a couple of whispered words, he summoned both of her wands and tucked them into a pocket. Her eyes snapped open and she glared at him. She quickly pulled a knife with a wickedly serrated blade from her boot.

He sighed impatiently. "Woman, cease these detestable histrionics. I am going to keep you from bleeding to death, that is, if you can refrain from attacking me for a few minutes." He hoped she spoke English. He didn't know the Spanish word for 'histrionics,' much less the proper word in the native dialect.

His words had the desired effect. She automatically lowered her eyes and her hands to her side. Then, just as quickly, she raised her head and she met his eye. He saw recognition register, and then horror, then disbelief.

"Professor Snape?"

He was immediately on his guard. "Who wants to know?"

She grinned; an expression that made her appear very young. "Let's see if I can refresh your memory, sir." She released her abundant curls from their bindings and scrubbed her hands through them until her hair resembled a brown shrub. She then waved her arm eagerly in the air.

She paused at his look of confusion. "Nothing? Well, we'll try again, then, shall we?"

He was quickly losing what little caution her use of his name had generated. "I fail to see the point of playing charades when you've just been shot. Now be quiet and let me examine you."

She rolled her eyes. "Professor, I'm perfectly fine." She pulled up her tunic enough to show him the enhanced dragonhide vest that was hidden underneath. There was an indentation on the left side of her ribcage. "I'll probably have a bruise the size of a mango, but as you can see," she jumped to her feet. "I'm well enough."

The no-nonsense tone of her voice brooked no opposition, and he wondered briefly if she was related to Minerva McGonagall. Could she have been a student of his? He studied her for a moment, trying to picture her ten years younger and skin several shades paler. Oh no. But there was no mistaking that bossy voice and untameable hair for anyone else.

"Granger."

"Oh, well spotted," she replied gleefully. "I had no idea I'd changed so much as to stump you, even for a moment, Professor."

He was willing to tolerate the attentions of blonde librarians, exchange smoky glances with leggy brunettes, and play dangerous games with glorious Amazons in the rainforest, but he'd buy a Revere cauldron from Mundungus Fletcher before he'd willingly banter with Harry Potter's best friend. "Stop calling me 'professor' you silly girl. In case you hadn't noticed, I'm no longer your teacher."

"Perhaps if I had my wands the balance of power that which normally exists between two adults would be restored. Don't you agree, Professor?"

She was already grating on his nerves. But she had a point. He tossed the wands at her. To his annoyance, she caught them both. She pocketed them and regarded him shrewdly.

"Now the question remains; what am I to do with your friend?" She walked over and shoved Puquio unceremoniously with her foot. "Protocol mandates that I immobilize and notify proper authorities. Tempting. Puquio has quite a reputation with the rangers, you know, and it would be quite a notch in my belt to bring him in."

She hadn't changed a bit. She was still an over-confident chit with a gift for getting on his nerves. "And what if I were to refuse being subdued," he asked, invoking his silkiest tones. "What would your protocol mandate, then?"

She blinked in surprise, but quickly recovered. "For heaven's sake, I wasn't threatening you, Professor," she said with exasperation. "I was talking about Puquio. And really, that heavy-handed threat was far beneath the level of sophistication with which I had previously credited you."

She was lecturing him on the art of conversation! Unbelievable! He made an inarticulate noise of outrage, but she continued on blithely.

"Then again, I suppose it must come as rather a shock to meet me in the middle of a forest in Peru, so I will excuse your previous slips, provided you keep a civil tongue in your head. Now, are you finished with your impression of a guppy at feeding time, or do you need a moment?"

He closed his mouth, which had been jumping between open and closed, and glared.

"Good." She surveyed him from head to toe and tossed him a vial of pearly green liquid from her belt. Apparently there was more to it than just dubious fashion sense. "First things first. You look like death warmed over. That should help ease the altitude sickness. You'll be needing all your strength if we're going to find whatever it was you hired Puquio to help you find."

"I must have misheard you, Miss Granger, because I thought I hear the word 'we' escape your lips. My being here is none of your concern."

"Oh, I beg your pardon," she said with false courtesy. "Did you have someone else in mind to hold your hand and guide you back to civilisation? Do you know someone else who is both familiar with area and foolhardy enough to help you? Well?"

His scowl could have soured milk.

"I thought not," she said in a satisfied voice. "Now drink your potion." He hesitated. "For goodness sakes, it's not going to kill you. Honestly, I don't know why I bother, sometimes."

He swallowed the potion with a grumbled, "I don't know why you bother, ever," noting the unfamiliar wash of flavours. Almost instantly, his breathing eased and the nausea evaporated. He felt warmer and better than he had since before coming to Peru. He was about to give her a grudging backhanded compliment when he realized that she had walked over to the unconscious dragon and prised open one of its eyes. Before he could protest, she had deposited several drops of a scarlet liquid into one eye, then the other. The dragon did not stir. She dribbled a fair amount into its nose, which produced a red vapour when the dragon exhaled.

She shot him an impish smile and tapped her wand into a soft patch under the dragon's foreleg. It awoke with a start and shook its head in an uncannily human gesture. When its eyes focused on her, it let out a surprised snort, spread its wings, and tore up through the canopy in terror.

Well, that was certainly different. Rather than give her the satisfaction of being visibly impressed, he commented, "It seems as if you really did learn nothing at Hogwarts, Miss Granger."

"How do you mean, Professor?"

"Stop calling me that," he snapped before he could stop himself. He felt like adding "twenty points from Gryffindor," but it undermined the point he was trying to make. "And what I mean is that one would think that after seven years, Miss Granger would have taken the school's motto more to heart."

It wasn't the answer she had been expecting, but the flash of confusion was quickly replaced by amusement. The slip merited comment, especially considering his face's traitorous response to her laughter. He had very nearly smiled. It wouldn't do.

"Feeding time for the guppies again, is it?"

She had recovered herself, though her cheeks were still pink. "Profess- I mean, sir-. Oh hell, what am I supposed to call you?"

"Severus, I suppose. Though," he added in a bored tone, "if you must insist on calling me by an academic title, you may call me Master."

She snickered. "The day I call you 'Master' is the day you call me 'Master.' If you can bring yourself to set aside years of habit, please call me Hermione."

Before Severus had a chance to comment, a loud groan came from behind him. Puquio was regaining consciousness.

The girl rubbed her side and glared at Puquio. "It's rather a shame the rangers only give rewards for captures and not kills."

She slung Puquio's rifle over her shoulder and cast stupefy and mobilicorpus on him in rapid succession. When the body was vertical again, Severus noticed that the man was bleeding. The side of his face had been abraded, either hiding from the dragon or when he fell. Hermione tutted at the scrape and pulled another vial of potion from her belt. She dabbed a few drops on to the scraped area. She shrugged at the questioning look Severus gave her.

"It needed to be cleaned. Merlin knows what's got into it by now. I'm sure he'd love to wake up in prison with a face full of parasites or pus. Of course," she said, returning the vial to her belt, "my mother always said that abscess makes the heart grow fonder."

"Remind me never to let your mother work on my teeth."

She pretended not to hear and began walking, while Puquio bobbed like a balloon on a string behind her. Still the soft spot for the helpless, or the temporarily helpless, in spite of her mercenary bluster.

She glanced at him impatiently over her shoulder.

"Are you coming, or aren't you?"

He crossed his arms. "I understood that civilisation lay in the opposite direction."

"It is, but I'm not about to leave you or Puquio here alone. The Stayaway Solution that I used on the dragon only lasts about twenty minutes. You're just going to have to put up with me for a while yet. Besides, I have use for a Potions Master, if you're willing."

Ahah. "So holding my hand back to civilisation isn't a purely altruistic gesture on your part? I'm shocked."

"Really, Severus," she said reproachfully but with a definite gleam in her eye, "would you have agreed to hear me out any other way?"

*****************************