How I Spent My Spring Holidays, By Prof. Severus Snape

Chapter Seven: The White Wand

Although the ominous tone of Dumbledore's words did not escape me, my attention was nearly wholly absorbed by the slumbering serpent. "That snake," I said softly, "it isn't -"

"It's a spoil of war," Moody cut across me. He slammed his walking stick on the polished floor angrily before adding, "From the battle of the Forest of Dean."

"Speaking of which, Alastor," Dumbledore said, his voice now politely conversational, "Poppy sent word just this morning that Remus may yet make a full recovery. She hopes he'll be out and about again by the summer."

"That's more than we can say for Tonks," Moody growled.

At these words, Hagrid gave an enormous gulp and drew a large spotted handkerchief from his pocket. I feared that he was about to erupt into one of his embarrassingly uninhibited bouts of sobbing. Dumbledore may have been thinking along the same lines, because he took Ravenclaw's wand from the half-giant's still outstretched hand and said gently, "Hagrid, if you want to see to that dragon, you may leave us now."

While Hagrid departed and Dumbledore placed the wand next to the sleeping snake, my mind raced. What in Merlin's name was the battle of the Forest of Dean? I had been informed of no such battle. True, my contact with the wizarding world had been minimal during the time I had been entrusted with Draco's care. But surely I was the Dark Lord's most competent and perceptive servant. What business did he have to be waging, and losing, battles without me? And, after the battle - after the loss of his most precious pet - how was it that the Dark Lord had not summoned me back to his side to regroup his forces and redirect his strategy? I simply could not believe that my master could snub me in this way.

Dumbledore fingered the twin-handled goblet. "Helga's cup was also won at a significant cost," he said softly. "Aberforth, remind Hagrid to send a thank you gift to our Bulgarian allies... Perhaps Viktor would enjoy a cask of your Triple-Strength Turnip Ale?"

Dumbledore's brother merely grunted, which appeared to signify that he thought this was a good idea. Then the grey-haired publican patted the thin, dirty white flanks of the dog.

Bulgarian allies? I thought. So the war had moved beyond Britain's boundaries, and nobody had bothered to inform me? My only consolation was that things did not appear to be going too well for the Dark Lord. Serves him right, too, I fumed inwardly.

The strange collection of artefacts lay before me: a cup, a wand and a snake. Add these to the diary and the ring that had already been destroyed, and it meant that Dumbledore had succeeded in collecting five-sevenths of Lord Voldemort's soul. This made me realise that something was missing.

"Your message said the wand was the last of the six Horcruxes," I observed, with as much equanimity as I could muster given that Moody had taken his wand from his cloak and was looking at me murderously. "But it appears one is still missing."

"Not missing," Dumbledore serenely replied. "Simply not here. I located it more than six months ago, and entrusted it to somebody for safe-keeping."

"Who?" I asked, trying not to sound too curious.

"I entrusted it to you."

Dumbledore's eyes twinkled and I wanted to hex him then and there. Instead I merely grumbled, "You might have informed me of the fact." Then I added, "I assume I am not charged - against my knowledge and will - with protecting that Horcrux at this present moment. You've possibly noticed that I'm not carrying any more Horcruxes on me."

"It is still safe," Dumbledore said with certainty. "When you have finished your task here, Severus, you will take me to the last Horcrux."

"And by my task," I speculated, "you mean I am to help you destroy these three?"

Dumbledore nodded. "We should commence at once. I assume you have not forgotten the spell I cast to exorcise the Peverell ring?"

"The spell that nearly incinerated your hand?" I reminded him. "Yes, I am familiar with the magic, but only a fool would attempt three such spells at once - or even in close succession. The result would be a conflagration." I waved my hand to indicate the Muggle families around us, busily hurling bowling balls at skittles with no regard for the oddly-dressed men arguing in their midst. "You always used to have such high-minded scruples, Headmaster, where the slaughter of innocent by-standers was concerned."

"Of course," Dumbledore said. He conjured a chintz armchair and sat down just in front of the snake, wand and cup. "Alastor, could you attend to the safety precautions?"

Moody rose to his feet, leant heavily on his staff, and shouted, "PROTEGO!"

His wand expelled the largest Shield Charm I have ever seen, so commodious that Dumbledore, Aberforth, Moody, the dog and I were all able to shelter under it, like figures beneath an enormous, semi-transparent umbrella. I glanced through the charm and saw that none of the Muggles took the slightest notice of this incredible feat of magic. I suspected strongly that their gaze had already been diverted by Muggle Repelling and Disillusionment Charms. Either that, or the Muggles of Cleethorpes were not very easily shocked.

"It will stop the spell damage from spreading," Dumbledore explained, "but I fear that whatever happens underneath the shield, you and I must control on our own. Alastor will be fully occupied keeping the shield in place, and poor Aberforth has a bit of a hangover, so he shouldn't be doing magic today."

Aberforth shot me a surly look, daring me to suggest that he should pull his own weight. I decided not to.

"You may use Aberforth's wand if you wish," Dumbledore offered. He levitated a length of holly wood from his brother's stinking coat. When the wand landed in my hand it was very sticky. I recalled all the times I had seen Aberforth using it to stir his mulled mead.

"The deed should be accomplished one step at a time," I breathed. "Perhaps the cup first."

"Good thinking," Dumbledore agreed. "It is older than the snake or the wand, and contains the segment of a soul that has not gone so far down the path of wickedness as the others."

Little consolation, I thought. The Horcrux in the Peverell ring was even older than Hufflepuff's cup, but when the ring was destroyed the outpouring of evil was nearly enough to kill a very able wizard.

Stoically, I adopted a duelling stance facing the cup. The magic required was non-verbal, as all powerful magic is. The words of a complex and archaic incantation ran through the layers of my consciousness, in the way a shuttle slips through the warp and weft on a loom. My thoughts, the whole energy of my being, directed itself into the Horcrux with no other purpose than to unlock its horrors. To my immense relief, Dumbledore rose from his armchair and stood at my side, doing the same as I.

The cup glowed orange, its delicate handles beginning to drip hot, molten gold. Suddenly it felt as though I had been run through with a lance; a piercing pain stabbed at my chest and it was all I could do to refrain from howling. I wanted to lower the wand.

"No distractions please, Severus," Dumbledore muttered from between clenched teeth.

My arm stayed steady and my mind refocussed. The horrors within the cup invaded my imagination. A small child's face loomed out of the darkness, pleading; a heavy-browed man wailed; a fat, old woman cried like a baby while bejewelled hands pawed at her face, so that her scarlet rouge, white face powder and magenta lipstick all melted together like a chalk drawing in the rain. Each image caused my lungs to constrict and my heart to pound like a tom-tom. At the instant that I believed I could take no more of such eviscerating agony, fire erupted inside the cup and tongues of flame leapt from it. I recoiled - the deed done.

Turning, I noticed that Dumbledore's beard was ablaze. Aberforth slowly got to his feet, lifting the dog's half-pint glass from the floor. Then he casually took a large handful of his brother's beard and dunked it in the beer.

"Well done, Aberforth," Dumbledore whispered with a smile, apparently considering my own efforts unworthy of thanks. The old man's face was ashen.

"We should not continue," I said firmly. "The other two Horcruxes must wait -"

"They cannot." Dumbledore's eyes flashed, peering over his half-moon spectacles with terrible purpose.

"They must," I insisted. "Clearly, you are not fit for the task. And I refuse to assume such a duty alone."

"We must go on," Dumbledore rasped. Rarely have I seen him looking so determined. Indeed, I had not witnessed such a grim and intent expression on his features save for the night that I murdered him (or so I thought) in the Astronomy Tower. "Tom may not know my exact whereabouts," he said. "He may even believe, as many do, that I am no more. But I'm sure he would have just noticed the destruction of one seventh of his soul. It will have sent shockwaves - reverberations." Then he took a deep, rattling breath and continued, "We do not have the protection of Hogwarts Castle here, Severus. We must act quickly - we must finish the job - and then we must be gone."

So, as often seems to occur in my unfortunate life, I was faced with Hobson's choice. If I continued to destroy the Horcruxes they would probably overwhelm me and I would die in anguish. If I desisted, I would probably be tracked down by the Dark Lord and thereafter... die in anguish. Reluctantly I raised Aberforth's sticky wand.

"Ravenclaw's wand or the snake?" I asked.

"The snake," Dumbledore replied. His voice sounded more even, as though he was summoning new reserves of strength.

"But I think the Dark Lord made the wand into a Horcrux first," I reasoned. Ravenclaw's ghost had spoken of a young man who cruelly abused her dragon - not of Lord Voldemort in his mature and altogether more menacing form.

"The snake is currently under the influence of a powerful Sleeping Draught," Dumbledore said. "If we wake it up, we will need to fight the beast as well. I don't think either you or I have the strength to do that soon after destroying the Ravenclaw Horcrux."

I did not think much of the ancient wizard's logic, but nevertheless steeled myself to exorcise the snake. Soon I felt the same fiery torment and endured similar horrible visions as before. I remained resolute but at the critical moment that the animal gave up the evil spirit the snake leapt into life, its huge, triangular head on fire. Dumbledore fell sideways, knocking me against the armchair.

The serpent, its body now more fire than flesh, red eyes filled with malevolence, lunged at me. I tried to find my voice - at first it would not come - all breath seemed to have been squeezed out of me completely. However, when the snake was so near that I could feel it scorching my skin I yelled, "EVANESCO!"

"Aguamenti," Dumbledore wheezed from somewhere beside my feet. Water spurted from his wand and doused the small fires that had sprung up around me and, for that matter, on me.

Dripping wet, I glared at the fallen crackpot, old fool. Then I heard somebody chuckling gutturally behind me.

I swung around to see Moody, his arm still aloft, holding the Shield Charm firm. "Well, Aberforth," Moody remarked, a savage grin crossing lopsided face, "looks like I owe you ten Galleons." His mismatched eyes fixed me with a look of undisguised loathing and he told me, "My money was on the snake."

Dumbledore's chest was heaving so violently that I thought he would be unable to stand. To my surprise, he gripped the arm of the chair and pulled himself to his feet. Then with shaking hands he pointed his wand at the slender piece of unicorn horn.

"Begin!" he commanded. There was no point in my refusing. Apparently, every wizard at Cleethorpes Ten Pin Bowling that afternoon had formed the opinion that Severus Snape must die.

I did what I was asked. I poured magic into Ravenclaw's wand, my mind rattling off the necessary incantation at a dizzying pace. This did not seem to be having any effect so, with greater urgency, I let the spell overcome me. Glancing sideways, I saw that Dumbledore was doing exactly the same thing, his eyes narrow slits as he focussed on the wand. But on the bowling ball dispensing machine where Ravenclaw's wand rested, precisely nothing happened.

I was not sure when it was that I became so absorbed in casting the spell that I stopped breathing, but eventually my decision caused me to faint. As I hit the floor (falling on top of an unconscious geriatric wizard in purple robes) I realised that Dumbledore must have made a similar choice.

The next thing I knew, Moody was standing over me, barking "Rennervate," and jabbing his wand into my ribs brutally. Dumbledore, already revived (no doubt less callously) sat in the chintz armchair, his long thin fingers toying with the unicorn horn wand. Ravenclaw's relic remained maddeningly intact.

"An error of judgement," Dumbledore admitted softly. "I seem to be have made quite a few of them in recent years... an old man's privilege. One year I'm telling a trusted friend, burdened by an Unbreakable Vow, to do as his conscience dictates... the next year, I'm locating a priceless, long-hidden treasure that... alas... is not a Horcrux."

He let the white wand drop onto his lap.

"No wonder we could not destroy it," I stated baldly. "But it makes no sense. Ravenclaw's ghost as good as told me that the Dark Lord had visited her."

Leaning forward and tenting his fingers, Dumbledore asked, "What exactly did she say?"

"After I took the wand," I answered, "she begged me not to hurt her dragon. She said that a black haired boy had done so, many years ago. Then she said..." I struggled to recall. "She said I'd got what I came for... more than the other boy got..."

"Oho! So Tom never got his hands on the wand," Dumbledore explained. "He must have been unable to break the Thief's Curse. Strange... he usually managed to be quite polite when it suited his purpose."

I unsteadily clambered to my feet. "One Horcrux is still missing, then," I muttered.

"Worse than that," Dumbledore replied gravely. "I have long worried that Tom may not have achieved his aim of creating a Horcrux from a treasure owned by each Hogwarts Founder. I was almost certain, when Naigini's powers became known to me, that he had given up his quest for a Gryffindor trophy. Now I see that it was Ravenclaw's treasure that Tom forsook," Dumbledore shook his head mournfully, "and that he already had a Gryffindor Horcrux."

The old wizard lifted his wand wearily and sent a ghostly bird on its way. "I'm sending for Kingsley," he explained. "It is as I have feared. We need to bring Harry to us."

"You don't mean -" Moody gasped.

Dumbledore lowered his head and said, barely audibly, "Regretfully I do, Alastor... There is not a moment to lose. We need to collect Harry - the final Horcrux."

TO BE CONTINUED...