Casting Shadows

Chapter 5

A Talent.

Persephone Snape sat on a rock and planned her escape. There was little else to do and she was of the opinion that it was better systematically to exhaust every avenue of possibility before admitting defeat. Unbeknownst to the odious Wormtail, she had mapped out the perimeter of the plateau and had made regular mental calculations as to its area and the rate of its decay. It was shrinking fast, and yet she was perturbed to find the number of boulders and small stunted shrubs remained constant. She wondered what would happen when the plateau became too small to support them all. It was a conundrum, and one on whose complexities she was loath to dwell. With any luck, she would have found a way to escape before it became an issue; or she would be rescued.

She felt her eyes begin to prickle as she thought of her father and she blinked furiously. She would not cry. She would not. He would expect her to be strong and rational, not to go to pieces. She would make him proud of her. She was sure that he was engineering her rescue at that very moment and she would need to be ready.

Thus encouraged, she rubbed her eyes with the heel of her hand and set about plucking the short blades of ersatz grass that would serve as aides memoire for the hexes she was trying to recall; one each for the Jellylegs and Leglocker curses, two for the slightly more serious Facsimilemortis, all the way through to six blades of grass to represent what was, in her opinion, the most difficult and potentially the most useful curse she knew, Petrificus Totalis.

She was under no illusion that any of them would actually work, although she intended to try some of the more straightforward ones. She had no wand, and so had never tried to practise them before. She had been waiting for her birthday, so eager to get her first wand that her mother had promised to take her to Diagon Alley on the morning of her birthday.

She had always found Ollivander's to be a fascinating shop, old and musty with shelves crammed with hundreds of boxes. Her mother had told her that Mr Ollivander knew where every single wand in his shop was kept, and, what was more, he remembered the core of every single wand he had ever sold and who owned it. Persephone was a little in awe of Mr Ollivander.

People could manage without a wand, according to her father, but usually only when in extremis. She snorted. She didn't think she could be in any more extremis if she tried, but it all appeared to hinge on one's state of mind at the time. She wondered whether or not the level of adrenaline in one's body enhanced magical ability by fuelling it with something more than the power of will. Just her luck to be the sort of girl who took most things in her stride.

All that she could do was try, though, she reasoned. She arched one eyebrow in thought, pursing her lips as she pondered which hex to practise first. It would have to be one that worked on a blade of grass or a small shrub, because there were no other test subjects available to her...unless...

Taking a deep breath, Persephone Snape stared fixedly at her knees, frowned hard and spoke the incantation for the Jellylegs jinx. Nothing happened. She tried again, making a small disgusted noise as her legs stubbornly refused to succumb to the hex.

"Oh, come on!" she growled. A third time, and she felt a muscle in her left leg begin to twitch. Unsure now as to whether or not her posture was to blame - her father was always telling her not to slouch - she tried again.

It worked! Both of her heels drummed on the ground and she felt a weakness in both limbs. Stifling the swell of euphoria that began to form in her chest, she repeated the spell. This time her legs shook and she was unable to bend her knees at will.

She waited apprehensively for the spell to wear off. Pettigrew might come back at any moment and it would not do to raise his suspicions. Not that he appeared to be particularly bright, although she knew appearances could be deceptive; wasn't her own father a prime example of that axiom? However, wandless magic from an eleven-year-old would be the very last thing he would suspect, she thought proudly.

It was best to practise this new-found skill a little more and perhaps try her hand at such distractions as the Twitchy-ears hex and Engorgio, before moving on to the ones that could directly aid her eventual escape, such as Accio and Portus.

It was a shame that she would be unable to practise the Confundus charm, or even Stupefy, but she had no test subject other than herself and it would be unwise to compromise herself. How she wished Celsus was with her, for her to practise on.

Still, it couldn't be helped. She had seen him in the corner of her bedroom as the men had come to take her away, his eyes wide as saucers and full of abject fear. Scared as she had been, she had resisted the urge to call out to him for fear of putting him at risk too. She had wondered, in the days that had followed, whether that had been brave of her or stupid, but she had eventually decided that she had acted out of self-interest, for, left behind, he would be able to raise the alarm. Her father would be proud of her Slytherin cunning.

Now, however, with loneliness threatening to overwhelm her and no guinea pig to practise her newfound skill on, she had concluded that she had simply been stupid.

Her stomach was rumbling again. She sighed and brushed the grass from her robes, settling down to wait for her next meal.

XXXXXX

The Ministry of Magic had offered its sincerest apologies, of course. Its officials had acted in the best interests of the wizarding world by ensuring that the carpet bag had been hidden in 'a very safe place', far away from prying eyes. That the security of this place had so easily been breached and the forgotten storeroom so comprehensively ransacked was beyond anyone's understanding, and they could not possibly have foreseen such a theft.

That was the official line.

Tonks' version, as she and Caius sat at Ella's kitchen table sipping from large mugs of scalding tea, was more prosaic.

"They ballsed it up," she said tiredly, running her hands through her shoulder-length orange hair. It had been that colour and style for days; Persephone's disappearance had sombred her and she had no interest in her usual distractions. "They put one junior secretary on security, which meant that all he had to do all day was just sit there with a signing-in book, and assumed that since no-one was supposed to know it was there, it was safe."

Snape glared at her. "Tell me, do all Ministry employees have to meet a certain level of incompetence to work there?" he asked sourly, "Or do they simply employ any halfwit they can find walking along the street and hope for the best?"

"I'm so very sorry, Severus," she replied. "I feel so responsible!"

"I am gratified to hear it!" came the acid reply.

"Sev!" Caius complained. "It's not her fault, she has absolutely nothing to do with it!"

"My point exactly!" he shouted, rising to his feet and splaying his fingers on the table as he loomed over her. "One would have hoped that she might have thought it prudent to make sure that it was something to do with her, given what she knew of it and its pivotal role in our lives!"

"No, Caius is right," said Ella dully. "We can't lay blame. How can we ever possibly second-guess the Fates? How can we know that what we do won't make things worse? Look at what happened to Sirius..."

"Bloody Sirius has nothing to do with it and so I'd appreciate your not talking about him," her husband snapped, striding out of the room. "I'm going to floo Shacklebolt and find out what is being done to sort out this mess."

XXXXXXX

An hour later, Snape and Ella said their goodbyes. Kingsley Shacklebolt had told him that the theft of the carpetbag had been carried out two days before Persephone's abduction and the Aurors were closing the net on a gang they thought consisted of three men, probably Death Eaters.

The trail had dried up for a time, but they had just received intelligence that a trio fitting the descriptions of the wanted men had been seen on the Cornish coast.

"Severus, I want to come with you!" Ella insisted.

"No. I want you to stay here with Celsus. He needs his mother."

"That isn't the reason, and you know it!"

He rounded on her abruptly, his eyes flashing with impatience. "And what of it? Is it so difficult for you to understand?"

Ella folded her arms but stood her ground, and he sighed and rolled his eyes.

"Ella, I have to know that you and Celsus are safe. I am finding my impotence regarding protecting Persephone hard enough to bear. I couldn't bear it if - well, I would prefer not to have you imperilled."

"But I can't let you go without me! What if - what if something happens to you?"

"I'll be careful. And besides, your presence is not a talisman that will protect me from all evil!"

"That's not fair!"

"I know, and I am sorry for it; but it is true nonetheless."

"I can't help it, Severus! I need to be there!"

"No. You need to be with our son, in case some catastrophe befalls him that your mere presence could have averted!" he said dryly. "If only you could split yourself in two!"

Ella's eyes filled with angry tears and her hand came swiftly up to connect with his cheek in a stinging slap. "How dare you! I thought you understood me!"

"I try, Ella, I really try! But finding our daughter is a far more pressing problem than your neuroses. If you're so concerned about me, use the emerald. I assume it still functions adequately?"

Stung, Ella's hand went reflexively to her neck.

"It's on your nightstand," he said pointedly. "Gathering dust."

Turning on his heel, he strode over to the closet and took out his cloak, swinging it over his shoulders in one graceful movement. When he turned back to her, she was gone. Never the type of man to beg forgiveness, particularly when faced with irrational female intransigence, he muttered an imprecation half under his breath and swept from the house, striding quickly to the next house on the street where Remus Lupin and Nymphadora Tonks awaited him.

Ella heard him leave, and hastened down the hall to the front door where she wrenched it open and almost called after him. Almost. She watched as he left her behind with never a backward glance, the wind blowing back his hair and catching his long cloak, alternately filling and whipping it in his wake. She thought that he might as well have been the man she had watched walk away from her all those years ago outside Hogwarts, when she had stood and laughed with Remus and Sirius and he had been a mystery to her, a riddle she felt compelled to solve.

XXXXXXXXX

"How could he just walk out, Hermione?" Ella asked as they sat sipping from mugs of hot chocolate. She had told her friend everything about their argument, and Hermione sat, bemused and in silence, considering how best to reply. Ella never usually discussed any details of her marriage with anyone apart from her husband, as the other interested party, and it was a measure of her frustration that she felt compelled to betray his wish for privacy and do so now.

"Perhaps he felt it best simply to leave, before you said things you'd regret?" Hermione ventured.

"Hah! Well, in that case he should have gone sooner!" Ella replied. "Oh, I don't know! I just want everything to be like it was before!"

"And it will be, when he brings Seffie home." Hermione reached across the table and put her hand over Ella's. "He will, you know. He's focussing on that, not on you. You should understand that, of all people!"

"I never thought I'd see the day that you defended him," Ella said ruefully.

"I always defended him to Harry and Ron!" she replied hotly.

"Oh, Hermione. I've really messed up, haven't I? I've neglected him through all of this! What sort of a wife am I?"

"Since when does following your husband to Azkaban count as neglect, Ella?" Hermione asked. "Honestly, you're starting to wallow in it. Stop it!"

Astonished, Ella sat back and stared. She began to speak, but thought better of it and stopped, frowning thoughtfully. Eventually she said,

"I can't help it, you know. Sometimes I just... I feel so sure I'm being reasonable and I can't understand why he doesn't agree. And other times...the good times, when I'm feeling alright...it just doesn't matter, because nothing matters when we're together. Nothing should matter, as long as we love one another." She sighed and ran her hands through her hair before touching the emerald she now wore once more. "I wish he hadn't gone before I could tell him."

"I'm sure he knows, Ella," Hermione said gently.

"I miss her, Hermione! What if - what if he can't find her? Or - or what if he does find her and she's - she's - "

"He'll bring her back safe, Ella! He will! When has he ever let you down before?"

XXXXXXXXXXXXXX

The wind lashed them relentlessly as they stood on the wild Cornish headland. The salt spray stung their eyes and tightened their skin until their cheeks reddened. Tonks hugged herself and sunk as far as she could into the oversized khaki surplus jacket she wore, while Remus turned his back on the unseasonably cruel sea breeze, surveying the crags and scrub of the bluff. Only Snape seemed unmoved by the vagaries of the weather, standing a little way apart from the others, his gimlet eyes darting here and there. It was too much to hope that the gang had left a trail for them to follow; nevertheless, hope was all that he had to draw on. After all, failure would mean the loss of far more than his daughter although, the Fates knew, that was unthinkable enough. Failure would mean the loss of everything; his son, his wife, his life.

He knew, rationally, that Ella loved him as ardently as she ever had, as deeply as he did her. However, the years they had shared thus far had not been uniformly blissful. He had assumed, eleven years ago when the Dark Mark had been purged from his body by her wondrous magic and from his soul by her unconditional love, that he would exist, from thereon in, in some previously unimaginable state of wonderment that he had been thusly blessed.

And so it had seemed, for the first couple of years. They had lived in the lower reaches of the school, surrounded by all that was familiar and cherished, and he had been cocooned by her love and by the comfortable home she had created in his safe haven. And then Celsus had come along and they had decided to move to Hogsmeade, to larger accommodation close to Persephone's future nursery and infant school.

He sighed. They had been happy there, were happy there still; but in retrospect he could not help but think that uprooting at that time had been ill advised. Busy transferring his effects to their new house and setting up a second laboratory in the cellar, he had missed all the signs in Ella's demeanour that ought to have warned him she was descending once more into the malaise that had held her in its devastating grip during her first pregnancy.

By the time Celsus was four months old and all the curtains had been hung, by the time the babe was beginning to take solid food and the house elves had unpacked all the family's belongings and he had learned where to find them, it was too late. Ella had begun to worry when he attended ad hoc meetings in the staff room, when Persephone strayed a little too far in the orchard, when he soothed Celsus with a brisk walk into Hogsmeade when they were both fractious...and so it went on, worsening by degrees, until her face became shadowed with worry and her voice tremulous with need.

He loved her too deeply to be much more than slightly irritated. Perhaps that had been his greatest mistake. Maybe he had reinforced her neuroses by keeping silent. A few derisive comments and cutting sarcasm might well have cauterised her mental wound and prevented her from turning it into an open sore that festered and grew until it dominated their lives.

He regretted his words at their parting, however. Now was not the time to experiment on how best to bring back the old Ella, for she would not come, not until he returned their daughter to her.

A soft voice interrupted his reverie.

"Are you ready, Severus? We think over here might be the best place..."

Snape nodded at Lupin and stepped over to where he and Tonks stood, facing each so that each was the corner of a triangle of rough ground. As one, they raised their wands above their heads and uttered the incantations, designed by senior Aurors, to locate their quarry.

Gold skeins of light met above their heads, forming a kaleidoscopic cone in the air beneath which the ground and even the very air itself seemed to shimmer and shift. One of the large flat rocks before them began to lose cohesion and they watched as it transfigured back into its original shape; a large cane-handled carpetbag.

The trio lowered their wands, glancing at one another and pointing them at the bag.

"Reveal your secrets!" said Snape, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. At once, the bag started to fill out, as if gases inside it were bubbling erratically.

"Blimey, what's it doing?" breathed Tonks. "I thought I'd seen it all..."

"You have no idea," muttered Snape, advancing on it deliberately. "It contains a whole world within it, volatile and unpredictable; and poorly manufactured, it would seem..."

"Be careful, Severus," warned Lupin. "As you say, we don't know what to expect."

"It hardly matters, Lupin, since I intend to face whatever lies within regardless!"

"Let me go first, Severus," said Tonks. "I'm more experienced in the field - "

"Don't be ridiculous!" he snapped, glaring at her. "Have you forgotten about my history? If so, then I assure you, you are the only Ministry employee that has!" His wand arm fell to his side as he turned to Lupin and then back to Tonks." Come after me, if I am not back momentarily."

Lupin nodded and smiled grimly, while Tonks shrugged and worried her bottom lip. Snape leaned over towards the bag, whose clasp snapped open to reveal a gaping black maw that stretched him out of shape and pulled him inside.