The Witch's Hair Shirt

The Grandmother was waiting for them. And she was not alone this time. A small circle of women, their faces drawn and closed but their eyes wide and vulnerable, stood resolutely by her side.

Snape trod helplessly forward, the witch in his arms, a gruesome pantomime of stepping over the threshold to the bridal chamber. He felt, rather than heard, the doorway between the worlds close and disappear. He let out a deep breath.

"Have you learned what was wanted of you, Child?" the Grandmother asked this of him.

He shook his head, not trusting himself to respond. Had he found that answer? He did not think so, just more questions, questions which seemed to be defined by emotions rather than rational intellect. He was crippled by such puzzles.

"I see," the Grandmother said softly, looking into his dark eyes. He closed them. She stepped forward and Snape, sensing her movement towards him, opened his eyes and watched as she lay a hand on the dying woman's bruised brow.

His gaze was intent on the Grandmother's face, but he turned his own away as the older woman began to weep, tears falling silently, heavy but fragile drops from her rheumy eyes. She motioned for the other women to approach and they closed the circle with Snape and his precious armful. Each one reached out and touched the woman he held. Whispers rose and spiraled around them all.

"Goodbye, sister."

"It is time to go."

"I love you."

"I will look for you."

"You are safe."

"I will dream of you."

"You will be remembered."

"I will never forget you."

"Farval, Gerda."

The Grandmother's voice, strong yet still a whisper, soaked by the salt of her tears, intoned, "Let go. Let go. Let go. Lycka och framgång, Daughter." And Snape felt his own face wash with tears. He looked down at the witch in his arms, he felt her shudder, her body convulsed and he strengthened himself under the movements of her leaving.

She hung limply in his embrace. She was gone.

The Earth continued Her celestial revolutions, the Moon dancing around Her, attracting the attention of the Sun. The waves rose and crashed upon all the shores of all the lands. Babies were made and born and human beings lived and died. Trees were felled and became shelters. Plants sprouted from the dirt and became sustenance. Animals lay down and emptied their lungs and returned to that from which they were created. Gods and Goddesses laughed and wept, questions were asked and answers revealed. Day became Twilight and became Night and Night became Dawn and became Day.

Snape was warded and protected from those who would do him tortuous harm and he slept the sleep of the dreaming. And all the dreams which he was gifted with in that sleeping became the talismans that would guide his life. When he awoke, he assumed the posture of the prayerful and held it.

Time was no longer measured in minutes and hours, but rather by the revolutions of his blood, the circulation of his lymph. His heart was mired in a whirlpool of shame and he could not take a breath without a sinking feeling within his breast. He was responsible, he was guilty. He had committed grievous harm to others and ultimately to himself. And as he began to navigate the shifting currents and dangerous undertows, Gerda Solveig and her unborn child rose above the dark waters and became his redeemers.

The witches of the Norn Coven wove their sister's hair into a shirt, and when Snape awoke he donned it without question.

He was sitting on the cliff's edge again. He truly had no idea what day it was or how long he had been on Horbjarg. He found himself wishing his long-abandoned childhood wish for wings. He heard the sound of people approaching and still he stared out across the sea, letting the possibilities of the wish tantalize him.

"Severus," a soft voice he knew but couldn't place. Slowly he turned and looked up into the face of Albus Dumbledore. The Grandmother was standing beside him.

Snape stood and with hands clasped uncharacteristically in front of him, he bowed his head. "Sir," he said quietly.

The Headmaster reached out a tentative hand and gently grasped the young man's shoulder. "You have embarked upon a journey that called for great bravery and, I fear, will continue to test your courage. The path is long and shadowed in places. But it no longer must be a solitary trek, my son." The ancient wizard let a smile pull at the corners of his lips, his eyes twinkled with pride, "I've come to bring you home."

Snape's head snapped up, his face flushed with fear. "Home? I do not understand."

Albus smiled sadly at him, "I know. You are confused at the moment and that is to be expected. There is much to discuss." He looked piercingly at him, "I will begin by telling you that the Dark Lord was defeated three nights ago." Snape's face twitched, a grimace folding across his mouth. "Yes. A child, just barely a year old, has destroyed Voldemort." Again, Snape's facial muscles spasmed and the grimace buried itself below his nose. "This child was empowered by a mother's love. And that mother was unwittingly empowered by Gerda Solveig and the sacrifice she made."

Snape let the words play inside the velvet whorls of his ears. He wrote them on the inside of his skull and stared at them with his mind's eye. He tasted them upon his own tongue and felt them inside his mouth, behind his clenched teeth. He let them out, "Voldemort destroyed. Child empowered by a mother's love. Empowered by the sacrifice she made."

The grandmother stepped close to Snape and lifted one of his hands with her palsied fingers. She clasped it between both her palms. "Gerda and her sacrifice of self and babe became a pathway for Light because of your deference to honour. You were wanted and you entrusted yourself."

Snape's eyelids trembled shut. For a few, brief moments he set down the terrible weight of his Self and his soul soared free.