The Trail of the Black Star

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6 km Northeast of Cusco

28 June, 9:30 am

Two disillusionment charms later, Severus found himself, luggage in pocket, astride Granger's clunky broom, wearing a pair of linen trousers expertly transfigured from a pair of Tino's jeans. Given Granger's talents, they should retain their current shape until he was safely back in his dungeons. They were flying toward Cusco at a conservative speed. In other words, Severus was half tempted to seize control of the broom and show Granger that going over half the broom's top speed would not cause the world to end.

He managed to control himself- just barely- because the view from the air was spectacular; alternatively starkly striking outcroppings amid lush green forests. He occasionally caught flashes of Incan ruins, which resembled nothing more than stone skeletons half-buried in the forest.

Far sooner than he would have liked, the forests and mountains gave way to the valley over which Cusco sprawled. As they descended into the greying stuccoed outskirts, Severus felt the part of him that openly admired Peru's rugged beauty close. It was time for business.

He followed Hermione into an alley where she shrunk her broom and he surreptitiously removed the wrinkles from his clothes and untangled his windblown hair. Pomade was far superior in its wind-resisting ability. Once the disillusionment charms had been removed, they walked out into the narrow street, where refuse from the Festival of the Sun was still visible in the gutters.

They did not speak as they wove through the busy streets, but it was a comfortable silence. Hermione seemed to know the way, and it wasn't more than twenty minutes later that they found themselves across from the sunbaked facade of the San Agustin Hotel. A welcoming Union Jack flag waved in the window: the British Consulate.

Fortunately, the British Magical Consulate was only one plaza away from the Muggle one, in the stone bowels of Santo Domingo, another grand church that had previously been an Incan the temple of the sun. Hermione spoke with the dour-looking door warden in Spanish, and he led them into a small waiting room. Severus felt a rush of fondness upon viewing a foreign edition of The Daily Prophet alongside Le Monde Magique and Deutsche Zauberzeitung in the paper rack. He had nearly begun flipping through the Prophet when the door to an adjoining office opened and a white-haired witch stepped through the door.

She was sympathetic but brisk; ushering Severus to a seat and handing him a pile of paperwork to fill out for a portkey back to England. She left a large, official-looking owl with him so that he might submit his paperwork directly to the Peruvian Ministry. She assured him that he would be able to leave that day, but it might be a few hours before approval came through.

When the witch had bustled back into her office, Severus turned to Hermione.

"I suppose there is no reason for you to stay while I fill this out," he said with his usual tact.

"Perhaps not. But would it bother you if I stayed?"

"You're not still on about dating, are you?"

She held up her hand defensively. "For Heaven's sake, Professor. I understood you perfectly last night. But if you have a few hours, I can show you the market where I pick up most of my potions ingredients and cooking spices."

"That will be unnecessary. I wish to remain near the Consulate in order to expedite my exodus from this wretched country."

She looked slightly crestfallen.

"Still, I am sorry to miss the market. It has been quite some time since I encountered so many ingredients that I had never come across in my reading."

The amendment made her smile. Good. It suited her.

"I will keep you posted on any further progress I make with the potion, of course."

"I would expect nothing less, Miss Granger."

"Well, thank you for helping me."

"You're welcome."

She turned to leave, but stopped, as if undecided on which way to go. She eventually faced him, cheeks aflame.

"Professor, I know what you said about not wanting to date me, but, given your taste for brief assignations, I hoped you might allow me to kiss you goodbye. No strings attached."

"Miss Granger, I find that of all the phrases in the English language, the two that are most likely to bring trouble are 'oops' and 'no strings attached.'"

Before he had a chance to formulate his next sentence, she had pounced on him. Again, he marvelled at her ability to channel that formidable intellectual focus into something as simple as a kiss. Quite an impressive feat, really. Still, she had initiated the kiss without permission, and when she released his lower lip and he had regained his thought processes, he scowled at her.

She could have passed for penitent had there not been quite so large a twinkle in her eye. "You didn't say no, sir."

He managed to hide his smile under a sneer. "Wasn't there somewhere else you needed to be, Granger, preferably in another hemisphere?"

"At your side for eternity, my dear Professor," she replied. He shooed her out the door, and, and she did leave, but not before shooting him a million-candlepower grin on her way.

Severus sank into his chair with a shake of his head and began filling out the form at the top of the pile. He turned when the door behind him opened suddenly. Though he half-expected it to be Hermione, it was the Consul.

"Did you need any help with the forms, dear?"

"No, I've only just started."

"Has your daughter gone, then?"

He managed to force out a reply before the pause became awkward. "Yes, she's gone."

"Such a lovely girl. You must be very proud."

"Oh, yes. Very proud," he responded absently.

"Well, let us know if you need anything."

"I will, thank you."

It was definitely for the better that he was leaving as soon as possible. Better for all parties involved, even if the girl was too silly to see it.

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Magical British Consulate, Cusco

28 June, 11:58 am

By the time Severus had finished filling out the towering stack of forms and sent them off by owl, the Consul and most of her staff had left for lunch. The guard grumpily informed him that all government offices, including the one in charge of processing his paperwork, would be on lunch until about 2pm.

Silly him for getting his hopes for a speedy departure up, he thought darkly. He mentally kicked himself for not accepting Hermione's offer for a tour of the magical markets. He might have learned something. Well, he made his bed, he supposed that he should lie in it. Grabbing the book of Incan poetry from his satchel, he flung himself in a chair and began to read.

He was surprised to find that Hermione had marked up the book considerably, and more than just the poem they had been working from. When had she done this? Some of the annotations were cross-references to other literary sources and historical events. But what deeply impressed him were her line-for-line possible back translations of the potion source poem that filled several pages of parchment.

More than anything, Severus wished for a copy of Hermione's Quechua-to-English potions ingredient book and a wider Spanish vocabulary.

He sat immersed in her notes, allowing each etymological possibility and subsequent line notes to swim around his consciousness before going on to the next version. The girl had an incredible knack for multilingual wordplay, which was necessary for making the requisite leaps from cat tooth to corn and from papa to potato.

He read through the four radically different translations, a couple of times each. There were, of course, a few lines of the ingredient list that had stumped her, but that was hardly her fault, and ultimately unnecessary. However, the penultimate couplet seemed to have perplexed her the most. It was one to which he hadn't paid much attention, mostly because it had nothing to do with the potion itself.

She had translated what was originally:

"Eternally shall all recall his fight

Where omens dwell with stars of darkest night."

to

"And evermore will all who hear recall

Acoya-Napa's rise and final fall,"

In spite of the thematic clarification, and, in Severus' opinion, superior word choice, she seemed to have been unhappy with her first effort, and had underlined the word 'stars' emphatically with her pencil. Apparently, she wished to retain the reference to the constellation of Acoya-Napa and his lover. The next translation contained the following substitution:

"And those who gaze upon the starry light

Shall understand the greatest wrongs from right."

Severus found this a bit trite, but it was no better than the next.

"This tale, reflected in the stars above,

brings all its lessons, both of war and love."

Apparently, she didn't care for it any more than he did, because it was barely legible underneath her dark Xs and scribbles.

Her final effort was nearly indistinguishable from the original. Only one word had changed. She seemed to have given up.

"Eternally shall all recall his fight

Where omens dwell with stars of darkest light."

She had written a list of "omens" in the margin, including floods, lightning, comets, meteorites, aurora borealis, the birth of an albino leopard, and earthquakes. Rather lazy of her not to have incorporated them into couplets of their own. It would have been most amusing to see her rhyme "albino" with anything. Perhaps 'Where dark stars dwell with great cats painted white?" Still, he had to admit, she'd done a remarkable job in the time she'd had.

As he mulled over a few mildly amusing rhymes for "lightning strike," he had a curious sensation, quite like the natural phenomenon he was attempting to make light of.

By changing "stars of darkest night" to "stars of darkest light," she had changed the record of the tale from the field of astronomy to that of botany, in obvious reference to the pain potion's active ingredient. But could the place 'where omens dwell' be somewhere not in the firmament, but a more terrestrial location?

He sat upright in his chair. Illapa. A temple of Illapa. It made perfect sense. Not only were lightning and thunder considered omens of fortune, but the god himself figured centrally in the myth as the destroyer of Acoya-Napa.

Vidalia's jovial invitation to call upon her expert knowledge of Incan architecture rang in his ears. Severus didn't know what he expected to find, but he instinctively felt it was important.

He quickly gathered up his belongings and pulled a map from the display of tourist attractions. Good. He wasn't far from the Artist's district where Vidalia lived.

As he left the Consulate, he chided himself for getting excited over what would likely turn into a dead end. But as he scowled fiercely at a group of small children who ran by him as he hailed a cab, he had to admit that this current investigation was much more interesting than staring at the Consulate walls for the next two hours.

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Home of Vidalia Rose, Artist's District, Cusco

28 June, 1:30 pm

"Professor! What a pleasant surprise! Come in, come in! You're just in time for tea!"

Severus allowed himself to be ushered into Vidalia's garishly decorated sitting room, which was even more colourful than he remembered on account of the bright sunlight. Severus sat in a squashy armchair while Vidalia bustled around the kitchen. She entered with a pot of interesting-smelling tea and a large plate of cucumber sandwiches and tea biscuits.

Severus eyed the profusion of refreshments with dismay. He didn't want to stay any longer than necessary.

"My dear Mrs. Rose, I regret to say that I have already eaten and that I cannot stay long." His stomach chose this moment to rumble loudly. He continued over it. "But I wished to take advantage of your expertise of Incan architecture," he sighed, "as well as your excellent company."

Vidalia smiled at him in a motherly way as she handed him a cup of tea. "Very well, Professor. Feel free to have a wee nosh while I get my book.

There were only three sandwiches remaining by the time she returned, to Severus' mild embarrassment. They were excellent, as were the chocolate biscuits and the small buttery ones with marzipan decorations. This time, the tea contained no coca, to Severus' relief.

"Now," said Vidalia, refilling his teacup, "what sort of architecture were you interested in?"

"In my studies, I came across a reference to omen worship. I recall that you mentioned a number of area churches were built upon the temples of the Inca. I had hoped that you could tell me which temples still exist. Of course," he went on in a bored voice, "I have no interest in visiting them on this trip, but I must confess, my curiosity is quite piqued. I shall likely require quite a bit of time in the Hogwarts library before I am able to make much sense of it, I'm afraid."

Vidalia looked at him thoughtfully.

"What sorts of omens?"

"Perhaps earthquakes. Fires. Lightning. Anything the Inca might have worshipped."

"Well, let me see. I can't think of any temples to earthquakes or fire, but I'm certain one of the churches was once a temple for Lightning. Oh drat, which was one it? Santo Domingo, perhaps?"

He hoped that it wasn't, as that was also the home of the Magical British Consulate. She consulted her book of book and newspaper clippings. Severus was mildly surprised to note the distinctive typeface of Index Infusia on several entries as she flipped past. He continued decimating Vidalia's supply of tea biscuits.

"Ah, here it is! 'Modern Cusco has largely retained its original layout design. The city, named 'The Navel' of the Inca empire was built in the shape of a leopard, which is closely associated with the Lightning and Thunder God, Illapa.' Oh this is a bit of good news, Professor!"

"Why so, Vidalia?"

"Because what was once Illapa's temple is now the church of San Blas. It's quite an easy distance from here, and its pulpit is so lovely, I should so love to see it again. Oh, this is so exciting! I can take you there in a matter of minutes!"

Concealing his conflicting emotions behind a sip of tea, Severus held up a hand. "There is no need to concern yourself, Vidalia. I must return to the Consulate as soon as possible. However, I shall be sure to keep you informed of my studies on your local church, should they ultimately prove to be of interest."

"Oh yes, of course. I'm sorry for going all a-flutter. Would you like some more tea?"

Severus glanced at his still-full cup. "No thank you, Vidalia. I must be going. You have been a most gracious hostess."

"You're welcome, Professor. Have a safe trip. Are you sure you won't see San Blas before you go? Even if not for research, the pulpit is one of the most impressive pieces of folk art in the world."

"No thank you, Vidalia. A pleasant day to you."

"And to you too, Professor. I hope you'll come stay with me again on your next visit!"

As soon as he was out of sight, he ducked into an alley to consult his map. He could hardly believe his luck. San Blas was the next plaza over! Not wishing to take any chance of offending Vidalia - she was an acquaintance of Filius's, after all- he quickly transfigured his clothes into a Muggle disguise. He modelled the false moustache on the CHUMP who had stolen his trousers. He pulled the large straw hat down over his eyes and began the uphill walk to the church.

From the outside, San Blas looked no different than the rest of the churches in Cusco; mud brick walls partially reinforced by brick around the entrance. A large stone bell tower stood beside it, obviously added on much later. The inside was dominated by the pulpit Vidalia had mentioned. The thing was elaborately carved of cedar and was surrounded by truly mediocre paintings of religious scenes and personages.

A number of tourists were blithely snapping holiday shots, completely oblivious to the dirty looks given them by the worshippers. Still, there were far too many Muggles present for him to do a very thorough search. Concealing himself behind a statue of some saint or another at whose feet a skull had been placed, Severus shot a stream of smoke from his wand.

At the sight of the smoke, the church staff quickly ushered everyone out of the building. Severus knew he had very little time before the fire brigade arrived, and cast a general revealing charm on the space. Nothing happened.

Cursing himself for the worst kind of fool, he realized that the spells to reveal any secrets hidden in the church were likely Incan in origin. This is what happens, he thought furiously, when one gets into the habit of following around excitable Gryffindors. But wait, the girl had opened the concealed stair into the treetop pathways with a tap of her wand. Feeling exceptionally foolish, he began tapping his wand on sections of the floor and wall, mentally commanding them to open.

The minutes crept past, and Severus was beginning to despair of finding anything, when he saw it. On a flagstone against the eastern wall, a tiny five-pointed star had been carved. With a quick glance over his shoulder, Severus tapped his wand on the carving and held his breath. The flagstone slid silently into the wall to reveal steep steps, barely high and wide enough for him to squeeze through. Throwing a glance over his shoulder, he lit his wand with a whisper and descended into the darkness.

As soon as he had cleared the aperture, he tapped the flagstone again. It slid obligingly back into place, sealing the way behind him and enveloping him in darkness. When he lit his wand, he could see that the stairs were pitted granite, and very steep. He could not see the bottom in the dim wand light. Picking his way down the stairs, he noticed that the air was not only cooler below, but it was also moist. It also smelled far better than he expected of a space that very well could have been forgotten for 400 years.

At the bottom of the stairs was a rectangular chamber with lightning-bolt reliefs carved into the walls, as well as a large statue, presumably of Illapa, against one wall. Two corridors branched off in opposite directions. The corridor leading off to the right had collapsed, leaving open a space a few centimetres wide. From the strong smell of rats and long decay that emanated from the hole, Severus was quite sure that there was nothing of interest to him there. The Inca had practiced ritual human sacrifice, after all, so it was only natural that there would be evidence of it in a temple.

He brightened his wand light, and examined the corridor on the left. When he drew close, he gasped in delight. The wand light revealed an elaborate stone frieze in which had been captured the first part of what could only be the story of Acoya-Napa and Chuqui-llantu.

Heart beating faster, he made his way down the corridor, following the friezes. There was Chuqui-llantu's father; the Sun, gazing disapprovingly at Acoya-Napa tending his llamas. Next was Acoya-Napa and the dragon, locked in a struggle from which only one would escape alive. Here was the artist's representation of the Moon Goddess presenting the orchid to Chuqui-llantu, and the maiden herself creating the potion to save her lover. And, of course, a large panel of Illapa throwing down lightning bolts to thwart Acoya-Napa's ill-conceived coup.

Severus tore himself away from the friezes long enough to note that the air was definitely moister here, and he could distinctly make out the sound of rushing water. Very strange.

At the end of the corridor was a large wooden door, upon which was carved a reminder to whomever entered to extinguish his or her light. In spite of his rush of excitement, he had to snort with amusement at the note that whomever disregarded the notice would be tied to a tree and left for the dragons. He considered carving a similar pictoral warning on the door to his private storeroom to discourage any unauthorized potions brewers. The sound of water was much stronger.

He almost turned back, afraid of what he would probably not find, and terrified of what he might. Ultimately, he was unable to find any scrap of caution to offset his wild curiosity. Pulling himself together, he extinguished his light, took a deep breath and tapped his wand on the door, which swung open.

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