Faerie Folly and Wizard Wands

Chapter Seventeen

Saquoya was determined to forget about her nightly encounter with Severus Snape. Now was not the time for thinking about trifles, especially the spark of romance. This was the dark period of her life, when the world seemed to swell around her in change, and when she had no control over her easy anger. This rage was a new surge of power, fighting to control her being, threatening to overcome her in blackness and drown her, to make her nothing but an uncontrollable source of potency that could be commanded by either evil or good. She had no time for loving. Would loving not take away her independence? It would hinder her in her moment of growth. She could not allow this. She did not want to allow it.

Soon, she learned to Apparate. With her father asking her to come often, it became easier than Floo Powder. For at least once a week, she Apparated right outside the school grounds, and then walk up through the back entry to her father's study. She would have preferred to fly, to test out her craft but of course, her father forbade it over and over again.

"Who knows who could see you, Saquoya? At this time, Voldemort's followers are everywhere and nowhere."

She knew this all too well. The murky powers swirled inside her at night, when the darkness crept over the land. She felt as if she would be smothered in persuasion. She hated the suffocation of this new evil. It seemed to know her, to fuse within her, and she could feel it moving around the entire land, circling relentlessly, waiting to take over.

"Father, are you not frightened?" she once had asked Dumbledore.

"Are you?"

She had drawn herself up with an august shake of her head. "No--of course not."

Of course, she was the "secret weapon." She was the one that would perhaps "save us all." She didn't have time to be frightened. She did have time to feel a slight resentment at being used, a little. Still, that didn't stop the fear in the end. To wish the fear away seemed to be the correct path, although she selfishly clung to the few threads of panic and dread. Those sensations seemed to keep her human. But this kept her locked in a spherical turn, and the trepidation did not ever leave.

So she was afraid. Not because of Voldemort, or anything that followed him, but of herself. Saquoya had found herself, and had found her heart. And this caused deep internal revelations that she hadn't expected.

She didn't expect to be easily touchy, easily whimsical, and easily angry. She didn't like being sharp, caustic, and bitter.

But she liked the power.

Some nights, she almost spun out of control, almost succumbed to the darkness, just because it would be easier than challenging it.

Yet she had sworn to her father that she would fight with him. She was not about to break the first promise she ever made to the father she had finally found; a father she could not help but love and respect despite the way that he caused her quick exasperation. At least that much could be said about her.

* * * *

Except, one night was too much. There was a howl on the wind. Sirius had told her that Voldemort's powers had seemed to double since he had taken Harry's blood, and his forces could not be counted. The darkness pushed on her house, on her senses, and on her mind.

She felt as if she would burst alone in that house, where evil could creep into the cracks of the windows. And who would hold her back from going to the darkness? Who would stop her from giving in from becoming nothing but a power source for the evil?

She was, after all, not human, really.

There had been a time when Saquoya would have thought her will could withstand anything in the face of evil, that her goodness was a shield, her naivete was a protection that could aide her.

Now she knew that was not true. Things had changed.

She was too powerful and arrogant for her own good. At the same time, this created a weakness inside her that was just as great as the might she possessed.

As the evil began to cloud her senses, she smelled it on the air, tasted it in on the wind, and heard it whisper all about her.

That was enough. She Apparated.

She didn't expect her father to be up, but as she walked through the gates of Hogwarts, she felt a slight release of pressure. Her father was powerful, even in his age, and she pushed aside the fact that in this moment of fear, she had fled to Dumbledore. It was a sign of weakness. But then, Severus did it all the time...

Shaking her head against the vision that accompanied the name, she moved up into the dark castle, and found her way into a surprisingly well lighted study. Resplendent in a blue and gold dressing gown that ran straight to the floor (but did not hide the pointed green slippers) Dumbledore stood and waited.

Damn the man. He knew too much.

"Saquoya? What is it, my dear?"

"I--." Now that she was there, the sense of evil seemed silly, but since she had come this far, she might as well humble herself further. "I want to know something."

"I've no secrets from you, my daughter," he moved to sit behind his study. "What is it?"

"Why--I have been rather...hasty lately..." She watched him nod solemnly. "And--I was wondering why I can't seem to be more...receptive..."

Dumbledore settled back into his chair, and a reflective look came into the sapphire eyes. "Well, then Saquoya."

She stood there, realizing she, too, was in her dressing gown of pale blue and silver, a gift from Dumbledore shortly after they had met. Her hands clenched and unclenched at her sides, she waited--since by now, Saquoya was ready to go home.

"I am sorry to bother you with trifles at this time, father. I was just-."

"No, I am not worried about that. Every ounce of knowledge you have of yourself will do nothing but aid you in this time of fear. I have a hypothesis about the cause of your nature. It, of course, has to do with your mother."

"Luelinea."

"Yes." Dumbledore sighed, and his eyes took a far-off light. "Your mother, my wife. Luelinea, the pixie of my youth. Your mother, Saquoya, is of the faerie race. They are not human, they are immortal, a sort of creature that flies and flits through the centuries, playing in the miry wilds, where they do not welcome visitors, or change. Her blood runs through you, Saquoya, as thick as mine does. This...anti-social behavior is only natural, especially if you let yourself be lost in it."

But then, why did none of this spring within her until she was enfolded in the Pensieve of Severus Snape? Was there a darkness in him, an earthiness that awoke the pixie in herself? Perhaps this was it, and she pondered again on the Hogwarts Potions Master while her father paused in his speech.

"Saquoya?"

"Yes, father," she rejoined automatically, and then met his eyes. Dumbledore smiled, his eyes suddenly twinkling.

"Why don't you go home now. Back to bed. Your question is answered?"

"Quite." Saquoya moved forward to plant an absent-minded kiss on the old wizard's cheek, and then she left soundlessly, creeping out of Hogwarts and through the gate guarded by the winged hogs.

She Apparated home.

The moment she found herself back in her home, she barely oriented herself before a hand clapped around her nose and mouth, and another arm snaked across her chest, to pin her arms at her sides. She knew who it was, her senses tingled with his nearness. A hiss escaped from her attacker, and just as suddenly as he had grabbed her, Snape released her.

"What are you doing?" she said, slightly affronted. "Do you think I would attack you?"

Severus shook his head, and slunk into the gloom, sneering, "It is reaction, and how was I to know it was you? I thought for an instant I had been followed." Saquoya listened to his voice, and sniffed.

There was blood on the air.

"There are wounds. I can smell them."

"How very acute of you, I'm sure," came the sullen voice.

"You cannot expect me to ignore the stench of that all night. And I will not tolerate your blood on my territory."

There was an explosive release of breath. "Well, then, take your wand, pixie, and fix me up!" Sarcasm ripped from Severus' voice.

"You shall not be difficult, Severus." Saquoya moved forward, ready to threaten him, when there was a sudden noise from where he had stood, and Severus Snape slumped along the wall. He had lost consciousness, either from pain, loss of blood, or sheer exhaustion. But at least he did not argue now, and Saquoya smiled to herself as she took his wand and cast a simple spell to send his helpless body floating up the stairs to a bedroom.

Now she could prove to the dear wizard what a pixie's magic could do!

Except--dear wizard??