The Dream of One Night

CHAPTER THIRTY

Severus

I'm not sure exactly what it was I noticed first that alerted me something was very wrong. It was probably the cold. Before I could feel any physical things around me when I awoke, I realized how desperately cold I was. I opened my eyes to darkness so thick it was nearly tangible; darkness so whole it cannot be from the simple blocking of light but the utter absence of it. The next thing I perceived was that I was laying on a smooth, hard surface, colder than the frigid air around me. I reached out instinctually to the left where my wand should have been on the bedside table, even though my half-awake mind knew I was certainly not in my bedroom. After grasping at more freezing air and forcing myself not to lose my head from complete confusion, I sat up and pressed my hands together while deeply concentrating. A moment later I was cupping a small ball of warm light, and I stood while moving my hands around to take in my surroundings.

The ground I had been laying on was dark granite, and directly to my right was a high-reaching wall of the same material. The granite was completely smooth and polished. Around me was almost complete silence, broken only by the sound of a gentle dripping from a ways away and the soft howl of what sounded like wind whistling through a small opening. The air smelled stale and old, with a hint of earth and another musty odour I could not place.

I took a few steps away from the wall, my bare feet feeling like they were almost burning from the cold of the stone floor, and passed my light across the rest of the space. The light fell on a raised slab of more granite upon which was a long block of white marble. I didn't think I could be any colder, but a chill definitely ran down my spine seeing that. I walked over to the marble, hoping I was wrong about what I strongly guessed it to be.

Up close, the block turned out to be two pieces, a large one covered by a thin slab, a seam showing that it was a lid. On that lid was carved:

Septimus Snape

July 23, 1932 - June 29, 1982

Though I had already guessed, the writing confirmed it; somehow I was in my father's tomb.

It seemed that all parameters of the Death Wish had been fulfilled, though I certainly had not expected this as the outcome. Suddenly filled with dread, I flashed the light around wildly in the case Avrille had been brought here with me. However, a careful inspection of the area around the sarcophagus showed no sign of her. For the moment I would have to act on the assumption that Avrille was safe and take care of myself.

Still holding my light close for warmth, I walked to the far side of the tomb and up the steps which I knew led to the outside. At the top I inspected the doorway, which had been sealed with another piece of perfectly sized granite cemented in place. Staring at the solid stone obstacle, I had to force myself to stay calm and not panic. Closing my eyes, even though there wasn't much visual stimuli to block out, I tried to will the door open. Nothing happened, but I really hadn't expected it to be that easy. I pressed a few fingers lightly against the stone to mentally read the spells; I had set them myself, so I figured it should be easy to unravel them. However, that yielded nothing useful either. I had still been furious during my father's inhumation and had sealed the tomb with the strongest spells I knew, as if to somehow protect the rest of the world from his corpse. To further complicate matters, passing time and the closeness of the other protective spells on the property had warped my original magic. There was no way I could undo the Sealing Charms without my wand.

Loath to have to resort to base physical action, even in my dire situation, I nevertheless set the light to float above me as I pressed my hands against the blockage. However, all of my strength was not enough to move it a millimetre. I was completely trapped.

I returned to the lower room of the tomb, taking my ball of light with me. I reduced its brightness, knowing it was needlessly draining my strength, but still reluctant to return to the pitch black. Vowing to worry about escaping later, I turned my mind to focus on my most immediate problems, the forefront runner being quickly encroaching hypothermia. The air was not cold enough for me to see my breath in the pale light, but only just. Long exposure to such temperatures would prove deadly; I had to find a non-energy-expending way to warm up.

I had arrived at my present location wearing nothing but the light cotton trousers I had worn to bed; somehow I had to further clothe myself. Only one option came to mind in this room of solid rock, and it made me nauseated to even consider it. However, I knew I had absolutely no other alternatives, so I sent the light to hover over the lid of the sarcophagus. Praying that I at least had enough muscle power for this, I pushed with all of my might against the marble cover. Fortunately, I was able to shift it a few inches. A few more heaves created an opening large enough for me to get my hands underneath to tip it off. The cover crashed thunderously to the floor and broke in two. Taking a deep breath, though through my mouth in case the contents inside still stank, I looked into the dark interior.

The remains of my father were wrapped in a white linen cloth, which had yellowed slightly with time but seemed to still be in good condition. I had no idea what clothing my father had been buried in, having left all of the funeral arrangements to his solicitor. My father had ordered his tomb built before I was even born, and it was one of the earliest and greatest drains he had made in my mother's inheritance. Since I had barely ever wanted to have anything to do with him in his life, I certainly did not want to deal with my father in his death. The only reason the now broken sarcophagus cover was carved with his death date was because my father had already paid for the service, and the sculptor refused to return the money, saying too much time had passed since the transaction.

With utter dispassion I pulled apart the folds of the burial shroud to see if there was anything on my father's corpse worth salvaging. The body had long ago decayed, the fluids having drained from strategically placed holes drilled into the bottom of the marble down into the earth beneath. What skin remained on the face was tight and shrunken, creating the appearance of a leather-covered skull. Biting back the sudden, pointless urge to slam my fist into the flaky, eyeless face I moved my gaze down to the clothing itself.

My father had been buried in a rather expensive-looking suit covered by a formal robe. On his feet were sturdy leather riding boots, which had survived the internment in superb condition. These I pulled off gently, not wanting to take off the bottom of the legs as well, then shook them upside-down to clear out the tattered remains of some socks. Not wanting to have to touch the actual body if I could help it, I decided to simply stick with the burial shroud and hope it was warm enough. I put on the boots, tucking in the bottoms of my trousers to trap the heat, then wrapped the linen cloth tightly around me. For the moment, that problem was solved.

Now that I was awake and moving, I found myself viciously hungry, my last meal being the half-eaten dinner at Hogwarts a lifetime ago. There was nothing I could do about that problem and would simply have to suffer through the hunger pangs. Though I couldn't locate the source, the shrill whistling of the wind meant that at least some air was circulating so I was unlikely to suffocate. My next mission was to discover the location of the dripping sound. This I found in a far corner where a tiny trickle of water ran down the seam of the two walls and into a small pool on the floor before disappearing down a thin crack in the granite. Though I wasn't thirsty at the moment, I knew the discovery of the water could be the determining factor of whether I got out of here alive, if I got out at all.

No, I needed to stop thinking like that. Being fatalistic was a death-sentence in itself. Bundling up even tighter in the shroud, I slid down a wall to sit on the floor. Someone at the castle would notice me to be gone soon. Avrille would obviously know right away, though I couldn't count on her alerting anyone immediately. She would think I had simply gone off somewhere, perhaps on school business. She would also be reluctant to inquire after me since she was supposed to be simply my apprentice and probably not have any contact with me during the holiday anyway. But surely Dumbledore, who knew I was going nowhere during the break, would take note of my absence at meals and ask questions...

But even if he did, what good would it do? He knew the location of my family home, but he had never actually been here. He had no reason to think I would be here at all, since he more than anyone knew how much I hated this place. And what could Avrille do, assuming she was even safe herself?

I dropped my head onto my arms wrapped around my drawn up knees. Even though I had enough to worry about in my own present situation, the thought that Avrille might be in danger and I could not help struck terror into my heart. She had seemed fine last night after our coupling, but then so had I. There had been that horrendous headache, but at the time I had summed it up to sleep deprivation. As I thought back now, it was most likely the Death Wish curse trying to find a way into my mind to subdue me. It was pure habit for me to employ Occlumency during my waking hours, so that had probably stopped the curse for a time. However, when I had gone to sleep, I had not been protected, and the curse had spirited me away. It was supposed to be impossible to Disapparate out of Hogwarts, but that was not really true. The house-elves could do it naturally, and it was only Dumbledore's expert magic that kept the school impenetrable from outside forces. An ancient, Dark magic like a Death Wish curse could easily overpower that of the headmaster.

With my head still buried in my arms, I stopped the light spell. I would need every ounce of strength remaining in me, and the psychological comfort of light was not worth the draining of my reserves. Perhaps later I could have another go at the blocked doorway, but for the moment I needed to rest from the effort expelled removing the sarcophagus lid. Knowing I had nothing else I could do, I slumped over and tried to sleep.