The Ghost Maker

The Ghost Maker

     So it was that Severus Snape began one of the strangest walks through Hogwart's castle on which he had ever been. The Morg Portan walked silently at his left where he could watch her every move, wand at the ready. Despite the fact that Snape held her wand- his first condition for his acquiescence- the creature's bloodshot eyes took in her surroundings with a kind of fearless removal. It was not a rash, dignified courage to be sure but a habitual attitude that the rules here, or anywhere, did not apply to her.

    The dungeon corridors were vacant, an abrupt change from moments ago. Odd, the stone passages were even cooler than before and no one was taking advantage. Perhaps Hagrid was more perceptive than he appeared and had taken it upon himself to evacuate the area.

    The cold followed them up from the dungeons and as Snape navigated to the Headmaster's Office he concluded that it radiated from the body at his left. Inevitably there were students about in the above ground passages, however, most appeared as backs of heads moving amiably in the opposite direction. The few faces Snape saw held glazed eyes lacking the rabid curiosity the young always displayed for strangers.

    Whispers seemed to follow with the cold. They became progressively louder though Snape never saw the whisperers. "Fizzing Whizbees." Snape suspected that Dumbledore secretly delighted in making the professors feel utterly foolish with his confectionary passwords before admitting them to his office. As the spiral staircase slowly revealed itself the cold doubled, cutting through Snape's robes to run down his spine beneath. The Morg Portan swayed on her feet, mimicking the motion of the stairs before gracelessly colliding with the wall. She slid a few inches down the gray stones before coming to her senses. Just when Snape had decided he would have to tow her along with a spell, the dark creature lurched to her feet, more than ever resembling a badly animated corpse. The rough stones had scraped away patches of skin from her face as if the flesh clung there feebly. Blood welled up in the abrasions and Snape half expected to see the sharp angles of her bones exposed.

    "Go on," she rasped. When Snape looked back- not trusting the creature even in this state- she clung to the railing, holding herself up as the short flight turned slowly upward,

    As always, chatter came through the door of the Headmaster's Office, voices currently debating the merits of Aurors and Quidditch stars long dead. "Enter." Dumbledore's voice called, cheerily omniscient. The old wizard was pouring a third cup of tea when Snape entered the round office. "Professor." Dumbledore handed Snape a cup. "To what do I owe this visit?"

    Snape was about to ask if it wasn't a bit warm for tea when the Morg Portan entered the room and the temperature dropped. "To whom, Albus. To whom."

    "Indeed."

The woman dropped uninvited into an arm chair and listlessly accepted a cup of tea. "I presume you have a reason for revealing yourself at Hogwarts." Dumbledore clearly knew what he was speaking to yet his tone lacked the disdain Snape expected.

    "I do, Headmaster." The men had to lean in to hear her whisper. "A death to come."

    "She spoke of a student's death Albus and demanded an audience with you."

    "If that is meant as I assume, there is nothing I can do."

    Snape nodded in agreement. According to the old lore, once a name was given there was only one inevitable end. "Which is why I was reluctant to bring this creature but she insisted and I acted on behalf of the students."

    "I understand Severus. Why have you come, Miss Iac-"

    "Please." The word came with the force of steel on stone. "A death to come. Mine."

    "That is of no con-" Dumbledore cut Snape off, not with a word but with a much more compelling silence.

    The old wizards face took on the tiredness Snape had seen too much of late. When he finally spoke his voice was odd in way Snape remembered all too well. It was filled with compassion at a time when anything but cold refusal seemed imminent. "You should have come sooner," he said, "before it came to this."

    "You knew I wouldn't." Her voice was flat but there might have been remorse there.

    "What is it you think I can do for you?"

    The spelled teacup in her hand had been steaming stubbornly but it presently lost its battle and extinguished with a final puff. Lacey ice crystal immediately started to coat the liquid. "Somneratus." A crack opened and spider webbed across the surface of the delicate cup, the woman didn't seem to notice the liquid running over her hands.

    "That is one of the most dangerous potions known to the wizarding world." Dumbledore spoke as if he had both dreaded and expected the answer.

    "Not to mention the difficulty." Snape had a sneaking premonition of the role he would be expected to play as he was already seeing agreement in the headmaster's eyes.

    "I know the danger."

    "There is great danger to the maker and it is not a formula I trust my abilities to prepare. Your plea should be to Professor Snape." Dumbledore took the cup from her skeletal fingers.

    "It's your word I have not his. I-I trust you Headmaster." The word 'trust' seemed to pain her.

    "I want no part in this Albus." He spoke looking directly at the pitiful creature that was beneath pity.

    A hint of life came back into the slumped form- anger- but the voice held only hopelessness. "None of the others could do it either."

    A Slytherin to the bone and no stranger to manipulation, Snape was unmoved. "Likely these others simply did not want to. It's difficult, not impossible." Somneratus was unlike any other potion in that its side effects vastly out weighed the benefits. Katrina Socket, professor of Muggle Studies once equated it to a narcotic called Heroin. "and I see no reason that the vile stuff should ever be brewed, its hardly worth the potion making practice and doesn't have the remotest life saving property."

    "Severus is right. Brewing the potion would only buy time. Without an antidote there is no hope...." This last was directed at Snape.

    Not for the first time Snape wondered if Dumbledore could see through walls and skulls like Moody. He felt his jaw working and rationalized his words later by telling himself he had spoken on behalf of the art of potion making, "I have developed a serum of sorts. And I suppose it does need testing. But I lack the Headmaster's sympathy for pleas especially when it comes to risking my own person. However, I will hear bargains."