Slytherin Chronicles : The Desire of Darkness

CHAPTER EIGHT Contact

When Neve awoke it was to find herself lying on her back in a large four-poster bed with lavish, dusty curtains that had been drawn back, exposing most of the room in which she was in. It was very old, musty and dark, the window at the left side of the room being hidden behind burgundy drapes. It was also very quiet, as though there was no one else in the house but herself.

Again, Neve didn't know how she could have ended up in such a place. She supposed that someone from the village must have found her and carried her here to rest, though exactly where or what here was, she didn't know. She tried to sit up but found that she couldn't move her legs at all. Very weakly, she raised herself onto her elbows, but the unexpected influx of fatigue and feeling of distinct illness almost immediately made her fall back down.

Neve opened her mouth to gulp in more air and a sudden fit of coughing seized her. She coughed and wheezed, desperately hoping that someone would hear and come to help her. Her throat and lungs felt as though they were burning with a ferocious fire, choking her and preventing oxygen from getting through.

Eventually the attack ceased, and Neve's head fell back onto the cool pillows again. She raised her hands to her face and would have gasped in horror if she could have taken in enough air for it. Her hands were tiny and utterly wasted, looking as though there was nothing to them but skin and bone, and no flesh at all. Her arms were exactly the same, and Neve suspected that her legs would look something alike if she could only find the energy to move them.

She thought she heard voices somewhere below her but the minute she held her breath to try to listen, the silence of the house reigned on, and not a single footstep, sneeze or cough was to be heard anywhere.

She closed her eyes and tried to stop panicking; she'd just have to ask someone to explain to her what was going on when they came back. Because someone was bound to come. Whoever had put her into this bed in the first place would surely care about how she was feeling.

Then suddenly, Neve heard the door creak open and slowly turned her head to look. Her vision was somewhat hazy but she could still make out a tall boy with dark hair leaning against the doorframe. And he held a wand!

"Hello, Adeline," he said softly. He strode languidly to the bed, not bothering to close the door, and surveyed Neve with lowered eyelids, a slight smirk on his face. "I see that you did not inherit the trait for good looks, nor for self-preservation. Feeling a bit ill, are we?"

It was on the tip of Neve's tongue to tell the boy that she had no idea what he was talking about, that she was not Adeline (whoever she was), and that she was feeling horrendously ill and didn't know how it came about. But instead, what came out of her mouth was something she was not very concerned about yet.

"Who are you?" Her voice came out in little more than a whisper.

The boy's smirk widened. "Who am I?" he echoed quietly. "I was so sure that you'd at least have some idea, Adeline. Don't you have any of my characteristics at all? But even if you didn't, you ought to have been told." He paused, the smirk turning into a bit of a grimace. "But, of course, there would have been no one to tell you ... they all believed I was dead, that it was time to move on, that they could keep the truth from you and make you - " (his lip curled) " - normal." The smirk reappeared. "And, of course, they were wrong. For here I am, alive and better than ever."

"What do you want?" breathed Neve.

The boy gave her a penetrating gaze, his eyes like steel - cold, strong, cruelly alluring - and said in an almost kind voice, "I want many things, Adeline, most of which you wouldn't understand the reason for. And that is why I must be selfish. That is why I must be cruel to you. But I will be pleasant first and tell you a story." He sat down at the edge of the bed, leaning his back against a post. "You like stories, don't you, Adeline? Well, of course, you do. All little children like stories. This one begins with the birth of a boy ..."


"You know, Severus, it is very odd that of all the people who are skilled in the matters of spirits and things, you asked me to help you with Neve," said Evelyn from the velvet green armchair she sat in in Snape's office. "Why not Dumbledore? I suppose that he knows what happened to Neve."

"Oh, he knows, all right. He knows things about her that I'm sure even you can't imagine," replied Snape, lazily turning the pages of an old book of potions.

"I don't doubt that," said Evelyn. "But you still haven't told me why you specifically asked me for help. You know that I'm not the most powerful witch in the world, and I could screw up."

"I believed otherwise at certain times," said Snape in a low voice. "And I had good reason to do so."

Evelyn smirked at him. "Exactly what do you mean by that? It sounds as though you're implying that I'm some sort of temptress!"

Snape laughed loudly. "Was that your vanity talking or your imagination?"

"Neither. I don't pretend to be who I'm not. You know that as well as I do. If you want a good example of the opposite, remember Mortenvia Coulden."

Snape leaned back in his seat. "Ah, yes ... best friends with Narcissa Black - well, now she's a Malfoy. No one could forget either of them. Both always bouncing around in the latest fashions, both excellent witches, and both having very influential families and powerful boyfriends. Not to mention tongues like spears." Snape shuddered. "I've always been glad that you weren't part of their little clique."

"Ha! They'd never accept me in a million years! I myself am glad that I never joined them," commented Evelyn. "Merlin knows what they conjured up to amuse themselves with."

"Necromancy is not out of the question."

"No, I think that would be more like Darius or Lucius. And speaking of Darius, you never did tell me what kind of a job he took up."

Snape suddenly assumed an irritable look. "If I knew, I'd have told you long ago. I believe Dumbledore knows, but he won't admit to it. It must be something big and popular, what with all those Galleons that he rakes in."

"Does Neve know?"

"I don't think so. And I don't think she'd be too happy about it. I'm almost sure that it's something to do with the Dark Arts, and from what I have learnt of Neve, I don't believe that she'd be into that sort of stuff as much as Darius would like. She doesn't seem to like Lucius' son, Draco, very much, and he's a sure candidate for the Dark Mark."

"Even with Voldemort being the weakling that he is? That would be pointless!"

"Not quite." Snape frowned. "I have reason to believe that he has found someone to work for him, to bring him back to power. And I also have reason to believe that this person is in this very school."

"Oh, come off it, Severus! Dumbledore wouldn't employ someone who he thought was working for Voldemort!"

"No, he wouldn't," Snape said hesitatingly. "But there's always the chance that he doesn't know about it. The one I suspect of the crime is rather cunning."

"And who would that be? Rubeus Hagrid?"

Snape stared fixedly at Eirian for a few seconds before announcing, "Quirenius Quirrell."

Now it was Evelyn's turn to frown. "But ... isn't he the Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher?"

Snape nodded grimly. "Isn't that clever?"

Evelyn wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling cold. "What if he harms the students? Even brings Voldemort into the castle?"

"He wouldn't do anything to the students that would risk his exposure. The only one he should be after is Harry Potter. As for bringing Voldemort into the castle ... well, to be frank, that would be extremely difficult as he is rumoured to be - ah - deprived of a human body."

Evelyn nodded slowly, though still unconvinced. "What is Quirrell's plan for Voldemort?"

"I am putting my trust into you when I ask you not to tell anyone about it," said Snape, sitting up in his chair. "More than my job is at stake if anyone hears of this from you."

"I have never betrayed your trust, Severus," confirmed Evelyn solemnly.

Snape fixed his stern glare on Evelyn and said in a low voice, so low that Evelyn had to lean forward to hear him, "There is an object of fantastical power hidden in the school right now. An object powerful enough to bring Voldemort back to life without any trouble, if Quirrell ever got his hands on it. It would be very easy for him to get it because he helped to protect this object, along with Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Filius Flitwick, Pomona Sprout, and even Hagrid. This object is the Philosopher's Stone."

Silence reigned in the office for quite some time. Both Snape and Evelyn sat very still, each lost in their own thoughts until Evelyn finally spoke up. "The Stone can make the Elixir of Life ... and if Quirrell succeeds ..." Then she narrowed her eyes slightly at Snape. "How can you be sure that it is Quirrell?"

Snape looked away from her to the fire in the grate. "I have my reasons."

"Well, they'd better be good," threatened Evelyn. "Now ... back to the very beginning. You still didn't tell me why you chose me to help you with Neve."

Snape sighed in a noncommittal sort of way. "Since you are the only one other than Dumbledore and myself who knows about Neve's past, is trustworthy enough and has the potential to help her, I called on you."

"And in what way do you want me to help you with her? I still maintain the opinion that I should make contact with the spirit and ask it's purpose."

"You do love to put yourself in danger, don't you? I wonder that you weren't a Gryffindor," mused Snape.

"Like I said, I've done it before and I'm sure I can do it again. And anyway, you really have no right to forbid me from doing anything."

Snape smiled bitterly. "No, I don't. But would you change your mind if you saw me like I was five years ago?"

Evelyn looked him square in the eye. "I am sworn to protect that girl and nothing could sway me, not even death."

"Your promises will be the death of you, Evelyn," sighed Snape. "But as you said, I have no right to prevent you from doing what you want. Just don't say that I didn't warn you."

"So when should we do it? Midnight?" asked Evelyn, standing up.

"If you wish. There's a full moon up so making contact should be relatively easy. That is, if the spirit doesn't oppose it."

Evelyn shook her head. "On a full moon the gates of the spiritual world are wide open to all and making contact with spirits is the easiest magic of that type that could be performed at this time."

Snape glanced at the silver-framed clock on the wall. "It's half past eleven already. If you want to do it soon, we'd better hurry up."

And with that they both walked out of the office and headed for the hospital wing.



"You can't be serious!" exclaimed Madam Pomfrey, the school nurse, when Snape and Evelyn informed her of Neve's condition.

"We are very serious, Poppy, and we're going to need your help if we are to placate the spirit and keep Neve alive," said Snape.

"But when did this happen? Does the Headmaster know?"

"Dumbledore knew about this before anyone, and when it happened is not your immediate concern," said Evelyn. "Will you help us or not?"

"Well, of course I will! But what exactly are you going to do?"

"I am going to make contact with the spirit and find out what it wants to do while it is in Neve's body," explained Evelyn. "And I will do this at midnight, tonight."

Madam Pomfrey was appropriately shocked. "Do you know how dangerous that is? There have been deaths, and people have suffered from brain damage, and all sorts of other nasty injuries!"

"If you have a safer alternative, I'd be very glad to hear it," said Evelyn coolly.

Madam Pomfrey pursed her lips in a disapproving manner.

"And since you don't, I suggest you follow our instructions if you are prepared to help us with it," added Evelyn. "So," she said, suddenly business-like. "Poppy, I'd like you to boil a kettle of water and to use any non-magical means to keep Neve's temperature down. Just don't apply anything to her skin.

"And Severus," she turned to Snape, "might I ask you for several Nymphaea caerulea lotus petals, three or four sprigs of mistletoe, about ten grams of finely chopped flowers of Roman chamomile, and some op - " She paused for a moment, thinking hard. "Yes, about five grams of Papaver somniferum powder."

Snape brushed a hand across his mouth as though to wipe away a smile, nodded, and without hesitation, billowed out of the room.

"Papaver somniferum? What on earth is that?" inquired Madam Pomfrey. "Never in all my years as a mediwitch have I come upon anything of that name."

Evelyn allowed herself a crafty smile. "No, you wouldn't have. It is not usually thought of as a plant of medicinal powers," explained Eirian. "Remember Poppy, we are not trying to heal Neve for there is nothing to heal. We are simply trying to make contact with the spirit within her. When I drink the draught made from all those ingredients I will have the ability to penetrate the walls of Neve's subconcious and let my soul contact the spirit that has possessed her.

"The plant will be able to prevent any opposition from the spirit or Neve. She will take a drink of it too, and that way, I can assure that no harm will come to her when I intrude upon her and the spirit. It is a very old draught invented by the Ancient Egyptians."

"And that Papaver somniferum is the only safety precaution?" asked Madam Pomfrey suspiciously.

When Evelyn nodded, she pursed her lips once more and bustled off to put a kettle on the boil, muttering about "dangerous procedures" and "no doubt illicit mixtures" and "lack of common sense" under her breath.

Evelyn took off her midnight blue cloak, draped it over a chair in a corner of the room and strode over to Neve, who had lain still and quiet in her bed for the past thirty minutes. Her skin was still deathly pale and her brows were knitted in a frown, but her hands were no longer tearing at her blanket. She seemed to be in a peaceful slumber, apart from the fact that her chest was hardly rising an inch.

Evelyn knew time was running out, but she believed that Neve would survive. She looked a mentally and spiritually strong sort of girl, and that was where the battle was - in the mind and soul. Evelyn hovered her hand a few inches from Neve's forehead and breathed a sigh of relief when she realised her temperature had gone down.

It meant that Neve was on the final road to either death or life and Evelyn prayed that it wouldn't be the former. Not only was Neve too young to die, but it would also be a great big shame to let her go without her even knowing the truth about herself. Her soul would be forever lost.

But Evelyn was not going to let that happen; even if it killed her she'd get Neve back to life.

As Madam Pomfrey set a a pitcher of hot water onto a small table at the foot of the bed next to Neve's, Snape re-entered the room bearing four crystal phials of the ingredients Evelyn had asked for and set them beside the pitcher.

Evelyn then stepped upto the table and conjured two frozen glass tumblers into which she dropped the torn remnants of two lotus petals and the chamomile and mistletoe. She then sprinkled an equal amount of the Papaver somniferum powder over the herbs, and poured the hot water over the whole lot until both glasses were three quarters full.

Immediately, the contents of both tumblers began to smoke and shrivel up, the ice on the tumblers melting, and an entrancing fragrance filled the room which did its best to make the occupants light-headed.

Evelyn picked up one tumbler and, opening Neve's mouth slightly, trickled the liquid very slowly into the sleeping girl's body. Neve's cheeks suddenly grew pink and her eyebrows unknitted themselves while an expression of tranquillity possessed her features. Evelyn brought the other tumbler to her lips and drank until there was nothing left in the glass.

Then she dropped down onto a chair by Neve's bed, straightened her shoulders and grasped the handles of the chair, closing her eyes and beginning to breathe slowly and deeply. Snape and Madam Pomfrey were completely still, and the only sounds that could be heard within the room were the breaths of Evelyn and Neve.


"... This one begins with the birth of a boy," said the tall, dark-haired boy sitting on Neve's bed. "He was as unusual as they come, very different from the rest of the boys who he shared the orphanage with. His father didn't want him exactly because he was so unusual, so original, so different.

"So he left him with Muggles ... stupid, filthy Muggles who treated the boy as though he did everything he could to cause them trouble." He smiled terribly. "And the boy soon decided that it was better to have done the crimes they accused him of than to be innocent and accused guilty.

"None of the boys at the orphanage liked him; they all thought he was too strange and dangerous. But the boy didn't mind. He knew he was much more special than them, much better, more clever. He could do things they could never be able to no matter how hard they tried. But he was wise and kept quiet about it for he knew they would only use it against him.

"Then, after eleven years of enduring the company of Muggles, the boy received a letter that was to change his life forever. It was from a school that taught people like him, people who were just as unusual and special as he was. Of course, he grasped his chance to leave the orphanage and everyone was glad to get rid of him, just as he was happy to be leaving them.

"The boy's life had never been better than when he was at the school. He learned how to nurture and control his powerful gift, he even learned much more than any of the school's professors could teach him. For he wanted to be the best, the most powerful, the most feared, admired and respected out of all the students. And, in many ways, he was. And he had never felt so exhilarated in his life as he did during those years when he gathered followers, admirers, true friends who would rather die than serve someone else!"

The boy's eyes gleamed with a passion that Neve observed in his voice. "And he embarked on a quest that would bring him to what should be the ultimate goal of every ordinary mortal," he continued. "Immortality, of course. But that was not his ultimate goal." The boy shook his head, seemingly amused. "No, no, that was for lesser men who could never reach the height of power that he achieved. His ultimate goal was to make the world a better place for people like him.

"But as there were Muggles who thwarted his plans at the orphanage, so there were people, even those like him, who were against him and his hopes. Stupid people who didn't understand, who couldn't understand what it had been like for him or why he hoped to succeed.

"They didn't know that under his power they would forever live bountiful lives with no fear, no death and nothing expected from them in return, but unswerving loyalty and obedience." He shrugged elegantly. "In my opinion, not much. But in the minds of those idiot, Muggle-loving fools, everything I ask for is too much," he finished angrily.

Neve had been listening completely entranced by the boy's words, not entirely realising who or what he was talking about. She had a feeling that the "story" was about himself, but she couldn't imagine why he was telling it to her or, more likely, to this Adeline that he thought she was.

Close-to, she noticed that the boy's eyes were fairly similar to her own; if she could just get rid of the blurriness her eyes caused perhaps she would find that they were exactly the same. He also had a noble Grecian nose, black hair that was formed in waves on his head, and strong bone structure.

Presently, he spoke again, "Of course, the boy decided that there was only one way in which he could succeed. He had to rid his path of all obstacles that would prevent him from achieving his aims. Meaning, of course, that he would have to exterminate all those people, whether they were like him or not, who stood in his way." Another terrible smile crossed his handsome features. "And that is how I was brought to you, Adeline. Unfortunately you are one of the people standing - or rather, lying - " he smirked " - in my way."

Neve began to tremble. If he meant what she thought he meant, then things were going very bad very quickly. And worst of all was the fact that she still couldn't hear any other sound apart from the boy's voice, so there would be no one to call to for help. Her eyes widened in fear and her breathing quickened as he stood up and approached her, wand pointed straight at her heart, his index finger in line with it as though he was going to dip it downwards.

"I do wish that things could have been different, Adeline," the boy was saying, almost in a whisper, "but you can understand my dilemma, can't you? You know that I must do this, you know that you must go."

"No ... no ..." whimpered Neve, drenched in cold sweat. "Please, no ..."

The boy tilted his head to one side. "I've always wondered why people tend to think that if they say 'please', their attacker will leave them. Unconsciously, they know that they'll die anyway, sooner or later, so wouldn't it be better to die sooner and be allowed to escape all the pain and suffering awaiting them in the future?"

"They look forward to the better times, they forget about the pain," Neve gasped.

"Then they are stupid." The boy's voice was now hard and cold. "Life is full of more pain than death can ever be. Unless you are like me and use every opportunity to rise higher and higher into power that comes your way. The more power you have the less pain you will feel because not many would be brave or stupid enough to attack you. They will be too afraid. And even if they do, you will be too high above them to feel much hurt. You will be in a better position to hurt them."

Neve looked him straight in the eye, the haziness suddenly evaporating, and said firmly, "I know." This time, she meant to say the words; they didn't just fall out of her mouth out of nowhere. For some reason, she wanted the boy to know that she knew.

His eyes expressed surprise for a moment, but then he recollected himself and the cold smirk returned. "It won't help you much now, but at least I know that you understand, that you are at least a little like me. But now I must be cruel, heartless and ruthless. I'm sorry, Adeline ... or perhaps I'm not. After all, things will be better ... you will not be sick anymore and I will be higher up the staircase of power."

The smirk slowly faded off his face and Neve thought she could see a sadness in his swirling grey eyes. "Goodbye, Adeline." He raised his head, standing tall and proud, and said two words that made Neve open her mouth and let out a heart-rending scream.

"Avada Kedavra."


The old mahogany clock on the wall in the hospital wing at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry struck midnight. Its customary twelve bongs resounded throughout the hushed room in which Severus Snape and Madam Pomfrey sat in chairs, staring at the two unmoving figures across the room: a woman sitting straight-backed with her chin tilted high, and a small girl lying, pale and frail-looking, in the bed.

As the last echo of the clock died away, the girl in the bed twitched slightly, then twitched again. An piercing scream rent the still atmosphere in the infirmary and the girl began breathing in a desperate manner, her mouth open wide, almost choking as the air flew in and out of her body.

Severus Snape sprang out of his chair and hurried over to the girl's bedside, watching her intently. Her left hand was pressed tightly against her chest, and her right hand was lying rigidly by her side. Then, as suddenly as it began, her strange breathing stopped and all the muscles in her body loosened and relaxed.

Snape began to panic when he realised that her chest was not rising at all, though colour was returning to the girl's cheeks and she seemed to be at peace. The woman in the chair beside the bed stirred and a spasm shook her body. Her head dropped and her arms hung down limply.

Snape turned to her and stood on his knees before her chair. "Evelyn? Evelyn, please wake," he whispered. He touched her cheek lightly with his hand and her body shook again, but this time her head eyes snapped open and she groaned.

"What a nightmare," she breathed, shaking her head.

Snape let out a sigh of relief. "Thank Merlin you're alive, Evelyn," he said. "For a moment I thought I'd lost you."

The ghost of a smile briefly flickered around Evelyn's mouth. "You lost me? Remember Severus, I don't belong to you and therefore you could never lose me. I belong to myself, thank you very much."

Snape was silent for a moment but then, "You'll never let anyone in, will you? Not even if you're an inch from death."

"I have no one to blame but you for that. Not that I would. Personally, I think it's better this way."

Then she noticed Madam Pomfrey watching them curiously, and stood up from the chair, avoiding any contact with Snape. She bent over the girl in the bed and hovered her hand above the girl's forehead before gently placing it onto her skin.

Smiling wearily, she said, "It's worked. Neve's temperature has gone down and the spirit has been placated. She should wake up in a day or perhaps even a couple of hours. I expect she's had a very rough time."

"But what happens if it decides to be the master again?" asked Madam Pomfrey worriedly.

"The same thing. That's why she'll have to learn how to keep it under her control," supplied Snape. "But it's a terribly large burden for an eleven-year-old girl, one that she should never have had to bear if - " He broke off and quickly corrected himself. "If certain precautions had been put in place."

Evelyn glanced at him reprovingly, but Madam Pomfrey didn't seem to notice his mistake; she was gazing pitifully at Neve. "The poor dear," she sighed. "Her parents know, of course?"

Snape stared at Evelyn who quickly said, "Yes, they do know." Then she added strictly, "But nobody else is to hear a word about this, Poppy. And I mean nobody."

"Not even me?" said a hoarse voice from the bed.

They all looked down at the small face surrounded by thick black hair. The girl's eyes were barely open, but she was definitely breathing well.

"Neve! Awake already? You're stronger than I imagined," said Evelyn. "How do you feel, child?"

Neve opened her eyes in bewilderment. "Aren't I dead?"

Snape frowned but Evelyn replied quietly, "Of course not. It wasn't you who was killed, Neve. It was the person whose spirit resides in your body."

Neve blinked, suddenly alert. "I'm possessed?"

Evelyn nodded. "You were simply reliving the memories of the spirit. That's why you're alive."

"Oh, lovely. I'm possessed by a spirit, but that's all right - I'm alive!" Neve said sarcastically. She sighed wearily. "Who are you, anyway? And how do you know my name?"

"My name is Evelyn. I'm a friend of Professor Snape's. I helped bring you back."

"Actually she was the one who brought you back. Madam Pomfrey and I were just the assistants," said Snape, with a look of unmistakeable gentleness on his face that very rarely visited it.

"Thank you," mumbled Neve. "So does that mean that it wasn't really my grave?"

Evelyn's brows formed into a worried frown. "Grave? What grave? Where?"

"In the graveyard ... near that awful old house ... it had my name on it ... but it said I was a Riddle ..." slurred Neve, as a wave of sleepiness hit her.

Snape inhaled abruptly. Evelyn licked her lips nervously. "What else?" she prompted.

"There was a girl ... she was the one who led me to the grave ... she looked like me, but I - I think she was me ... we looked so alike ... and when I touched her hand ... weird mark ... bad pain ..." Neve whispered as her eyes closed again and she drifted off.

Evelyn took Neve's right hand in her own and turned the palm to face her; her hold on it tightened when she was what was on it. "Oh, Merlin!" she gasped.

Snape leaned over her shoulder to see and his face darkened; he gripped the back of the chair Evelyn had been sitting on and met Evelyn's stare. She looked horrified. Madam Pomfrey was looking from one to the other, not understanding their reactions; Evelyn deliberately kept Neve's palm away from her vision.

"It is her mark, Severus," whispered Eirian dazedly, so that no one but Snape would hear. "Her mark ... I could recognise it anywhere ... she took it from - from - " She broke off, her eyes widening in amazement or confusion, Snape couldn't tell which. She began pacing. "It must've been Adeline ..." she muttered distractedly. "So obvious ... but so clever ..."

Snape turned to Madam Pomfrey. "Poppy, may I ask you to leave us for a few minutes? There's something Evelyn and I need to discuss privately."

Madam Pomfrey raised her eyebrows, but nevertheless walked across the room to her office and closed the door behind her.

Snape grabbed Evelyn to stop her pacing. "If the girl was Adeline, the answer to whose spirit it is that has possessed Neve is right before us."

Evelyn shot him a fearful look. "But there's no knowing what the bloody thing could want her to do! I felt evil in it, Severus. Not much, but enough to know it was there."

"We'll just have to teach her how to control it then. It ought to be easier for Neve because of the connection between them. The possession could help her, you know ... sometime in her life."

"Perhaps it could," said Evelyn more composedly. "Depends on what Neve's destined for and what the spirit actually wants with her. Whatever the answer is for both questions I'm sure that Neve won't have quite the calmest of futures."

Snape snorted. "Does anyone in our world have a calm life? I can assure you that not even I, the bitter hermit, live my life in peace and relaxation. There's just no such thing in a wizard's life."

"Yes, I suppose you're right," sighed Evelyn. "But I have a feeling that Neve's life will be especially ... hectic. Or at least her youth will be."

"That may have been another prediction, you know," said Snape, smiling wryly.

"Oh, I don't care! Something big is going to happen, Severus, and not just once. And she's going to find out about everything sooner or later. I just hope that she can handle it." Evelyn gazed at Neve's sleeping form fondly. "She's a special little girl and I'm glad that she's a Slytherin."

"What else would she have been, Evelyn? A Gryffindor?"

Evelyn chuckled and looked down at Neve thoughtfully. "Actually she's quite the courageous little thing. I mean, she managed to get through that ordeal, didn't she? But I suppose her Slytherin qualities outweigh all the others she has. And no wonder, what with her past and future ... she'll need those qualities more than she knows. However, if she was a Ravenclaw she might've been the same ... after all, Salazar and Rowena were cousins, however distant."

"Ravenclaws are book-smart, but not necessarily wise about life or clever at getting what they want," said Snape. "That's why those who are determined and ambitious are placed in Slytherin, like Neve. Really Evelyn, she's got quite a good mind in there. Knows more about aconite that any of my third year students, I'll wager."

Evelyn smiled sadly down at Neve. "And we both know who she gets that from, don't we?"

Snape frowned down at Neve. "I think she'll be able to take it, Evelyn. She's not weak, neither in the mind nor the soul. She's proved that very well these couple of days. And like you said, she's bound to find out someday, whether she likes it or not."