The Sybil's Oracle Book Two

Chapter 25

By Pigwidgeon37

CHAPTER 25

“Shit! The other two are gone! You got yours?”

“Yes,” Arabella Figg called back over her shoulder, “I got him all right. Just waiting for him to wake up.” To Severus, she said in a whisper, “Can you Apparate?”

He was already feeling the effect of the Febrificium Curse, but nodded.

“Good. I’m going to bend over you now, and you push me backwards and Apparate immediately. Don’t push too hard, mind you, but I don’t think you can do a lot anyway.”

“Okay,” he managed, “Thank you.”

“Go to hell,” was her hissed answer, before she leaned forward.

“Well, well, well,” she said, her voice again back to normal, “Now let us see whom we’ve got here… may I take off that mask…”

Mustering all his strength, Severus brought up his right leg and gave her a feeble push. She had been right. He really could not cause much damage. Then, he Disapparated, with her scream of fury tingling in his ears. When he returned to consciousness, he saw that he was in his bed, looked down upon by Lucius and Lestrange.

“What the hell happened?” Lestrange asked, more furious than concerned.

Severus made an attempt at speaking, but his tongue felt like a lump of burning leather. Lucius, shaking his head behind Lestrange's back, went to fetch him a glass of water, which he gulped down greedily. His head was burning, his heart racing, and he could sense the sweat literally flooding from his pores.

“Did I… did I splinch?” he croaked.

Lucius grinned, but Lestrange did not seem to be overly amused. “No,” he snapped, “You didn't splinch. But I need to know what happened.”

“I tripped… one of them… of the Aurors… hit me with Febrificium…” He fell back into the pillows. It was no act. The fever had climbed up to the critical point now, and it would remain there for days. There was no cure, no antipyretic would have any effect, and there was no counter-curse. Which was, of course, the reason why this particular curse had been chosen. Today was 18 December, and, given the state he was in, there was no possibility for him to work on the formula at least till Christmas. He knew that the manoeuvre comported a serious health risk for him, because the constantly high level of body temperature might damage his heart and even other organs, but it had been the only choice. This, or being severely punished, because he had not achieved a result in his research for the potion. To judge by Lestrange’s expression, though, it was likely he would get both the fever and the Cruciatus. And there was no way to predict whether he would survive their combined effect.

“An Auror? With Febrificium?” Lestrange echoed, looking sceptical. “This seems a bit strange. Aurors never use Dark Curses. They stun, or cast body binds. But in all the raids I have perpetrated I have never seen any of them resort to Unforgivables or anything similar.”

“How the hell should I know why?” Severus bit out. Figg had already pointed out this flaw in their plan. “Can I have more water, please?”

He could feel the fever dehydrate his body, sense how the heat virtually sucked at his fibres. He only prayed that he might not become delirious while Lestrange was still here. Lucius was a skilled liar and privy to the plan—as was Owen—but there were certain things not even he could lie away once Severus had spilled them. Lucius came back with the glass and sat down on the edge of the bed, to insert his left arm under Severus’s shoulders and lift him up, so that he could drink without choking or getting half of the water on the bedclothes.

“Your House Elf called me,” Lucius explained, both to inform him and create a break in the tension that was perceptibly increasing between Severus and Lestrange. “So I informed the others—Owen was busy and couldn’t come—and St. John and I Apparated over immediately. Quite the devoted little creature, your elf.”

Severus nodded and smiled weakly. “Yes, she—”

“Could we please stop the small talk?” Lestrange interrupted sharply. “We have not yet finished interrogating Severus.”

“I wasn’t aware that I was being interrogated,” Severus croaked.

“Well,” Lucius said nonchalantly, with an infinitesimal wink only Severus could see, “you must understand that we are all a bit tense. If the Aurors start delving into the Dark repertoire, that would have certain consequences for us. Did you recognize the person who cast the Febrificium?”

Severus merely shook his head. Then—it came quite as a surprise to him, because he really had not thought his brain would be able to fulfil any but the most basic functions—he had an idea. With enormous effort, he turned his head, so that Lestrange came into his line of view. “I am not even sure whether it was one of the Aurors who hit me.”

Lestrange’s frown deepened. “Are you implying—”

“I’m not—Lucius, could I have some more water? I’m not implying anything. I was just saying that I didn’t see who hit me.”

He was lifted up again—Lucius’s arm felt so absurdly reassuring that he would almost have burst out into hysterical laughter. “Well,” Lucius said, “that wouldn’t really improve matters. What do you say, St. John? Should we interrogate the other two who were with Severus? If there is a traitor, trying to sabotage our operations, we must identify him or her, as quickly as possible. Can you absolutely exclude the possibility that it came from one of the targets?”

“Not absolutely, no,” Severus said, carefully affecting an air of thoughtfulness. “Most of all because I’m not sure how long it takes for the curse to develop its full effect.”

Lucius’s eyes were glinting with glee—however dangerous or gloomy a situation, trust Malfoy to see the fun in it, Severus thought—when he responded, “I’m not sure, but I think it depends on the victim’s constitution and focus. Were you using any shielding charms?”

Basically, it was the same game they had used to play with Binns. Diversionary tactics, hopping from conclusion to seemingly logical conclusion, luring the hopefully bedazzled third party away from what was to be hidden in plain sight… Schoolboy games, for grownup schoolboys, juggling with skulls and lives… “Shielding… of course not, why would I?” He took another gulp of water. “You know what may happen if you combine shielding charms and curse-casting.”

“Mmmh.” Lucius nodded. “It might have proved useful, though. In this particular case, I mean. Not that I’m blaming you, you couldn’t have foreseen—”

“However,” Lestrange cut him off impatiently, “I will discuss this matter with the Master. I take it that there were no further adversities?”

Severus, feeling too weak to speak, just shook his head in the negative.

“Of course we will discuss the matter with Lord Voldemort,” Lucius agreed, eyes slightly narrowed, putting the tiniest of emphases on the word ‘we’. The blades were definitely out now, glittering maliciously in the light of tension.

“I think,” Lestrange replied, and the steely note in his voice told clearly that he did not think but command, “that Severus might need your assistance now. We cannot leave the health of one of Lord Voldemort’s most trusted servants in the hands of a House Elf. Therefore, I would be most grateful for you to stay with him, either here or at Malfoy Manor, while I inform the Master of this most unpleasant development.”

With these words, he Disapparated, and the two young men were left to stare at each other, Severus with fever-glazed eyes and Lucius wearing an expression of deep concentration.

“Well,” he said finally, “That didn’t go too bad, I think. At least you’ve reached your goal insofar as you won’t be able to move a finger until Christmas. It might be a good idea to contact that Figg woman, or rather Dumbledore, to tell them they should use the occasional Dark Curse in the future. It won’t harm us, but will cover your back.” He rose from the bed and looked down at Severus. “As for you, Mr. Martyr-To-The-Cause, I’ll take you to the Manor. St. John might be a bastard, but he was right. You need to be tended to, and I have no intention of spending my days and nights away from my wife. Besides, I have to study.”

~~~~*~~~~

Dear Clarissa,

 I am writing to you from Malfoy Manor, where Lucius took me to survey my recovery from a Febrificium Curse. I have survived it, thank Merlin, but am still strictly forbidden to do more than walk to the bathroom and back to the bed. Not that I could or would want to do much more.

Clarissa, I know that my recent letters were not cheerful, but this one is going to be very sad. Because it will be my last letter to you. For reasons I would like to explain to you but cannot—at least not now and not in written form—we must not continue our correspondence. It has nothing to do with either you or me personally, I assure you. I still am your friend, I still like you, but more letters would mean too much danger for both of us. You are safe over there only as long as nobody knows your whereabouts. Considering the circumstances, the worst might happen; they might find out where you are, and believe me: they would hunt you down. Should said circumstances ever change, be sure that I will find you. Then we can chat about old times.

 Yours

Severus

~~~~*~~~~

The quill fell from Severus’s hands, and he stared at the letter he had just finished writing with empty eyes. Another piece gone from his life, another cherished possession ripped from his hands. He fingered his medallion. And you will always live in hell…

He had written the truth about his present condition. After four days of fever and delirium, his temperature was finally back to normal, but he was frightfully weak. Lucius and Narcissa had been very kind, one of them had almost always been with him, making him drink enormous quantities of water and consommé, to somehow compensate his loss of liquid and salt. Until this morning, though, he had not been able to eat, and a look at his image in the bathroom mirror had told him that he had lost a lot of weight. They had agreed that he would spend Christmas at the Manor—it had by now almost become a tradition, though a sad one—and be allowed downstairs for the first time on Christmas Eve, which was tomorrow. Till then, he had to remain in bed. Still unable to concentrate enough to read anything pertinent to his work, he spent most of his time thinking or sleeping. Sometimes, Narcissa would read to him, with that bell-like, lilting voice.

He was just about to doze off again, when a knock at the door blocked his road towards sleep. Lucius opened the door, poked his head inside and, when he saw that his guest was awake, quickly stepped into the room. He was looking tired and strained, his yet unlined face torn with fatigue.

“Hello, Sev,” he said, shedding his robes and sitting down on the armchair beside the bed, facing Severus. “How are you?”

“Quite all right, given the circumstances. What about you? You’re looking like you have been to hell and back.”

“Well,” Lucius said, leaned back and stretched his legs, “that was quite an accurate description. We had a meeting…”

“And?” Severus prompted.

Lucius sighed. “It’s a bit difficult to describe it in a few words.”

“Talk as long as you want. After all, it isn’t as if I had any pressing business to attend to.”

The legs that still betrayed the ex-chaser were bent again, the feet once more in solid contact with the floor, and Lucius sat up straight, then leaned forward until his elbows rested on his thighs. For a brief, moment, he buried his face in his hands and tugged at his hair, then came up again, directing his weary look at Severus. “Voldemort didn’t tell us, of course,” he began, “or rather, he didn’t tell us the reason, but he was furious. I could feel the energy right when I entered the room. Same for Owen. Lestrange and his accursed wife were already there. Of course.”

“And quite unfazed by his ire, I suppose,” Severus said.

“Naturally. So we discussed recent events—your raid at the apothecary’s and Owen’s last exploits with those irksome Mudbloods down in Devon. St. John had already fed the whole story about the Febrificium to Voldemort—”

“You didn’t doubt that, did you?” Severus interjected, “It was a great occasion to make his own glory shine more brightly without risking anything himself.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure of that. I saw his hands, and they were trembling. If you ask me, he had to endure the brunt of Voldemort’s wrath before he got his chance to denigrate you. He didn’t look too happy, but it seems that he’s back in our Master’s graces. However, Voldemort did swallow the story, at least apparently. He demanded to see you, but I told him most humbly that Apparating would probably kill you. He sulked for a while—”

“Lucius, you are priceless,” Severus interrupted him, laughing despite himself. “I don’t think that anybody would use that word to describe Lord Voldemort’s anger. Did he hurt you or Owen while he was… er, sulking?”

“Fortunately he didn’t. He merely assigned the next tasks—I was lucky, because I just have to annihilate some Muggle village where they seem to be granting asylum to a few members of Dumbledore’s resistance group on a regular basis. And, surprise, surprise, I may even take along three people. I suppose Dumbledore should be notified, so he can tell those morons to stay clear of the place.”

Severus fell back into the pillows with an exasperated sigh. “How on earth are we supposed to give him that information? I refuse to send an owl, it’s too dangerous. And we can’t just walk into Hogwarts, demanding to see the Headmaster.”

“Don’t work yourself into this useless excitement,” Lucius drawled, feeling his pulse and frowning, “or you’ll have to stay in bed over Christmas. There is something we could do, although only this once.” Severus, who was indeed feeling very dizzy after his outburst, moved a limp hand, encouraging him to elaborate. “We can send your House Elf. I wouldn’t do it more than once, because somebody might notice her, but if we dispatch her to old Dumbledore’s bedchamber in the dead of night, it should be sufficiently safe. I have ten days to accomplish the mission, so there is ample time for you to recover, go back home and instruct her. Thus we can tell him about the planned raid and remind him to give that Figg woman a hint to use the odd Dark Curse, from time to time.”

There was another knock at the door, and in came Narcissa, levitating a tray on which sat a bowl of consommé. “Lucius,” she said, “you are already home! I just came to look after our patient and bring him his afternoon soup.”

Lucius got up and kissed her hand. “Thank you my dear. Severus and I have business to discuss, so I’ll give it to him. But I will join you for dinner.”

“You are all right, aren’t you?”

“Perfectly all right, my dear. Now go.”

She nodded and left. Lucius took the bowl and a spoon, returned to the bed and sat down on the edge.

“I can eat on my own,” Severus remarked sourly, when the first spoonful hovered near his lips.

“Yes, and I can win a duel against Voldemort. Shut up and eat, while I continue.”

Severus harrumphed and tried to swallow his consommé as rebelliously as possible. “Peggy,” he reminded Lucius.

“What? Oh, yes, certainly. Your elf. So, if you agree…” Severus nodded. “Good. That’s settled, then. Although I must admit that the thought of saving some Gryffindor’s sorry arse is nettling me. But we can’t risk the resistance to be further weakened. Next point: Voldemort wants to see you as soon as you’re strong enough.”

“Of course. After all, he needs to chastise me and then tell me the next date for the potion to be ready. Have you looked up the date, by the way?”

“Yes. Although it made me wonder…” Lucius shoved the next spoonful of soup into Severus’s mouth. “The planetary conjunction on 21 December wasn’t particularly powerful. Nothing extraordinary. Although Astronomy has never been my forte, so maybe there’s something I overlooked.”

Severus wagged his head. “I doubt it. I suppose he simply wanted it done as soon as possible, regardless of the power. But it might prove a useful means to our ends.”

“Meaning?” Lucius asked, raising his brows.

“Meaning that I might try and subtly persuade him to wait until something more spectacular turns up. If I succeed in convincing him, it might buy us precious time.”

Spooning up the last of the soup, Lucius nodded thoughtfully. “Good thought. I’ll do some calculations then, and tell you what I found out. Do you want to sleep now, or should I finish telling you?”

Severus looked at him in alarm. “There’s more?”

“Of course there’s more, you moron. Or did you think that what I told you would be enough to make me look as if I had been to hell and back, as you so elegantly phrased it?”

“N-no. Wishful thinking, I guess. Better tell me now, though. I’m feeling quite chipper.”

Lucius smirked. “A most unsuitable adjective, considering that you look like a corpse. Well, then. When the meeting had come to an end, Voldemort dismissed the others and ordered me to stay behind.” Severus groaned and closed his eyes. “Indeed. And you won’t believe what he told me. Or rather, what he did before telling me.”

“I thought,” Severus commented acidly, “that I shouldn’t become too excited, Dr. Lucius. So why are you telling this as if it were a horror story and I a five-year-old?”

“Dramatic effect should never be foregone,” Lucius said. “Okay then, I’ll try without my usual finesse. First, he made me ingest Veritaserum, and then he asked whether I had reason to doubt the loyalty of any of his followers.”

“Maybe that was a little too blunt,” Severus panted, pressing his right hand to his wildly hammering heart. “Bloody hell, Lucius, how come I’m still alive?”

Lucius inserted his right hand into his pocket and pulled out a small, shimmering object Severus identified as a very beautifully crafted silver snuffbox, its lid decorated with an enamel miniature of some long-dead Malfoy.

“Lucius, this is simply hysterical. Does that mean you initiated him to the joys of tobacco-snuffing, so that he blessed and forgave you?”

Lucius seldom laughed out loud, and even more rarely did he laugh until tears stood in his eyes, but now he did. “Thank you, Sev,” he said when he had recovered sufficiently to speak, “I definitely needed that. My blood pressure is up again.” He wiped his eyes and then pressed the tiny button on the front side of the box, so that the opening mechanism released the lid. “You can’t have forgotten these,” he said, showing Severus five innocent-looking lemon drops.

“Of course!” Severus exclaimed, “How stupid of me. So you remembered to take them!”

“I remembered, yes,” Lucius said, “But you should have seen the look on Owen’s face when he saw me pop one into my mouth. I don’t think that anybody ever eyed a lemon drop as greedily as he. I offered him one, of course,” he added with a grin. “And so, nothing happened. I told Voldemort that I didn’t suspect anybody. For some reason, he didn’t seem very satisfied. However, he ordered me to watch the two of you, meaning you and Owen, for signs of disloyalty.”

Severus gasped. “He did? Do you think he suspects me?”

Lucius shut the box with a sharp snap and returned it into his pocket. “No. I think it’s worse. Because I didn’t Apparate home immediately after he’d kindly dismissed me. I went to Owen first, to tell him the bad news.”

“And? Gods, Lucius, don’t make that so pathetically long!”

“And Owen informed me that he had received exactly the same instructions yesterday, regarding you and me. I have no doubt that, when you’ll meet him, your orders will be very similar: watch Malfoy and McNair. He wants to put us against each other, to get rid of us without moving a finger. But then, phoenixes of a feather stick together. How lucky that we have founded the Very Secret Order.”

“How lucky indeed,” Severus echoed.

~~~~*~~~~

“Happy New Year, Severus.”

“I sincerely doubt that, Headmaster,” Severus said with a wry smile, “But the same to you. Thank you for coming.”

“You are very welcome. Your House Elf is a most amazing creature, but I thought it might be better if we discussed these matters personally.”

“It probably is, yes. Although I would advise against meeting too often. I know it poses a problem for the next months until I’ll start teaching at Hogwarts, but if I am found out, you will lose any chance you might have.”

Dumbledore nodded. In apparent absentmindedness, his eyes were resting on the naked trees out in the park, maybe trying to make sense of the arcane signs their branches were forming against the pallid sky of a winter morning. If one could read those signs, Severus thought, following the old wizard’s line of view, maybe one would understand so many secrets… When he unfocused his eyes, the clear lines became a little blurry, but the patterns of brown-black against milky blue emerged and sprang into life; faces became visible, and forms illustrated this book of nature that changed imperceptibly with every year and every storm that broke a branch…

“Severus?”

“I… sorry, I got distracted. Did you say something?”

“Yes. I was telling you that we might be able to solve the communication problem until you come to Hogwarts.”

Severus raised an eyebrow. “Really? I don’t see how, but that makes it all the more intriguing.”

“I opened the Floo connection in my private quarters, so that it will be accessible only from your house.”

“You—” Severus almost dropped his teacup. Certainly not because he was still weak. How did the old man do it? What Dumbledore had just told him was so purely, despicably Gryffidor in its nature that he should have laughed in the other wizard’s face. And all the same… he remembered how he had felt about the Headmaster in his earlier years at Hogwarts. He had never held any affection for the man—how could a pureblood Slytherin harbour any positive feelings towards a Muggle-loving Gryffindor?—but there had always been that reluctance to strike, even when the possibility was there, that strange inhibition that made the hand slow down in mid-movement, like in deep water, or in those dreams where you tried to hit your adversary full-force but found that you had only touched his cheek with your fingertips… Severus pulled himself together and back to reality. He was a little too prone to drifting off these last days, maybe a remnant of his physical weakness.

He cleared his throat. “You opened a Floo connection between your chambers and my house?”

“Yes. So in case you have an urgent message you can simply send it. To warrant your safety, at least as much as possible in these circumstances, I suggest that you encrypt the letters and seal them, so that only I can open and read them. Not that anybody has access to my rooms, but better safe than sorry.”

Severus thought that maybe he had missed some important bit in between, for he simply could not believe… “Headmaster, I am not sure whether I got that right. Are you talking about a regular Floo connection?”

The old wizard took off his half-moon-shaped glasses—for a moment, Severus thought he might suffocate, because the image of McLachlan’s dead face drifted before his mind’s eye, pince-nez askew and black eyes of rigid enamel. He had never seen Dumbledore without his spectacles and now recognized that the man’s view was by no means defective. Those glasses, which seemed to lend an additional twinkle to the Headmaster's eyes, were merely camouflage. A simple way to distract his opposite from the sheer power of his blue gaze and render it friendly and harmless.

“You had ample occasion to kill me, Severus. You have not done so yet. That should be sufficient guarantee, I think.”

What to oppose to this? Unnerving as Dumbledore’s quiet power was, what he said was, of course, true. So Severus merely nodded.

“As far as your own risk is concerned,” Dumbledore continued, “I assure you once more that nobody ever enters my rooms. They would be in for quite a few surprises,” he added, putting the glasses on again. “My wards are quite the elaborate creation, if I may say so.”

“I did not doubt it,” Severus remarked dryly.

“Well, that particular problem seems to be solved, then. What about the raid?”

“Lucius Malfoy is to conduct it. The village is called Disserth, down in Wales. It seems that the local Muggles are sheltering members of your group.”

“Indeed. And when has Mr. Malfoy planned to accomplish his mission?”

“Tomorrow night. I am sorry for the short notice, but I was in no condition to contact you earlier.”

Dumbledore briefly closed his eyes. When he reopened them, the twinkle had vanished. “That gives me very little time,” he said. His voice was calm, but it did little to hide the tension that was radiating from him. “Not that I blame you, you did what you could. And, to own the truth—” he passed his hand over his forehead in a gesture of weariness “—it would not make much difference if you had told me one week earlier.”

Severus frowned at him, not quite sure what he was trying to say.

“It gives me enough time to warn my people away from Disserth. As for the Muggles… I cannot save all of them. So I will have to…” His voice faded.

“Play God. Indeed. I was under the impression that you quite liked the part.”

“In that case,” Dumbledore said calmly, “You might want to reconsider your ideas.” He refilled his teacup and then redirected his even gaze at Severus. “I seem to remember that you meant to tell me something about curses?”

~~~~*~~~~

Severus's hands had not yet regained their habitual steadiness, and thus he still did not trust himself to embark on any experiments. During the first half of January, he mostly did theoretical work. His instinct told him that either unicorn blood or phoenix tears would protect the Thaumatocytes against the destructive effect of werewolf and vampire blood. It was an important step towards the final result, but by no means the most important. He was far from having arrived at his goal. The substance he would be getting from the donors was highly dangerous—a mix of destroyed, or rather altered, red and white particles and Thaumatocytes wrapped up in the unicorn blood protecting them. Five litres of the stuff, more or less. Less, if the Dark Lord really intended to use a newborn.

It would take some time to collect the blood, and then he would have to be quick—the unicorn blood was not likely to resist for a long time. Brief exposure to sunlight would take care of the part affected by the vampire blood. The werewolf blood was an altogether different matter, though. Severus would have been glad had it not been necessary to use it, but it was indispensable. During his research, he had found out that the vampire blood affected the leucocytes and that of werewolves the erythrocytes. Or rather, both affected both, but red particles could be really destroyed only through the use of werewolf blood. Easy as it was to get rid of its vampire counterpart, the lycanthropic component posed a problem. Not an insurmountable one, but the puzzle was difficult to solve. The preliminary work he had done together with McLachlan helped a lot. After all, they had achieved a result. That he had altered the formula was an altogether different history.

Only this was not about curing or taming werewolves. This was about neutralizing werewolf-infested blood. The potion he and McLachlan had been working on was far more complex than that, because only part of it was meant to have an effect on the blood. Not to mention that it did not prevent the transformation; all it did was alleviate the condition. So he had to go through the notes again, trying to determine which component of the potion he could use for his purposes.

Towards the end of January, he made a few practical experiments and decided that it was time to have another working session with Lucius. The latter was already busy writing his thesis, as this was his third and last year at Urqhart, but always grateful for a little distraction other than raids and torture.

“Looks impressive,” Lucius commented, indicating the stacks of notes on Severus’s worktable.

“As is the case with you, Malfoy, the appearance is far better than what’s actually inside.”

Lucius snorted. “But people have a tendency to overlook ugly packages such as yourself. So I consider myself lucky. By the way, I brought the star charts. The results are quite interesting.”

“Let’s have a look at them first. I suppose they will take less time than that damned potion.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” Lucius said, producing a minuscule roll of parchment from one of his pockets and charming it back to its original size. “Look here.”

They sat down at the table and Lucius unrolled the parchments that contained numerous tables, equations and sketches.

“My premise, or point of departure, was that Voldemort seems to prefer certain planetary conjunctions. Never the inferior ones, so Venus and Mercury are out of the game anyway. Which leaves us with Jupiter, Uranus, Neptune, Pluto, Mars and Saturn. Now, whenever there was an initiation—” he pulled a sheet form the middle of the stack “—Jupiter was there as well. Jupiter and another one, for, as you well know, conjunctions of three planets are a little too rare. He seems to go for Jupiter even when, a few months later, there would be a more powerful conjunction of two other planets. Can you follow me so far?”

“You are more boring than Binns, but I think I get the idea. Logical, isn’t it? After all, Jupiter was the one who reigned over all the other gods.”

“Indeed. Power, in one word. Therefore I think it’s safe to assume that he’ll want Jupiter for this little project, too. Which gives us time until August. You see, here’s Jupiter in conjunction with Uranus.”

“Not good,” Severus said, shaking his head. “Because—and this is completely hypothetical territory, mind you, just speculation—if the theory, supported by a part of the historians of magic, that the gods of Greek and other myths were wizards of times long forgotten is true—”

“I think it is very plausible,” Lucius interrupted him. “Don’t give me that look, Sev, you’re not the only one who reads books. I had to browse a few of those tomes for my thesis—after all, Jupiter must have been one hell of an animagus if he was able to turn into a swan, an eagle, a bull and, last not least, into a rain of gold.”

“How very true. Not to mention that the bolts of lightning the gods allegedly used to throw must have been very powerful Killing Curses. However, we are digressing. Voldemort obviously adheres to this theory, and I bet whatever I possess that he knows a lot more about it than we do. Therefore, a conjunction of Jupiter and Saturn is impossible. That would mean son against father, inner conflict, so to speak.”

“Yes,” Lucius said, nodding pensively, “you certainly have a point there. But that means that we can rule out Uranus as well.”

“Not really. He was emasculated by Cronos, not by Zeus. But he was an old god, and got castrated and dethroned. I don’t think that Voldemort would like the association. So we’ve got Neptune, Pluto and Mars. What does it say on your charts?”

While Lucius was searching the apposite parchment, Severus tried to overcome the feeling of nausea that had been growing within him since they had started discussing this subject. It had almost overwhelmed him when he had talked, with seemingly perfect calmness, about Jupiter and Saturn. Son against father. The father who was chased away by his own son. At least there had been an open fight between the two gods. But he, Severus, was working in the dark, a coward, a turncoat, scum of the scum. Jupiter had openly overthrown his father and taken his throne. What did fate have in store for Severus Snape, the invisible spy who did not dare revolt in plain daylight?

“Snape, if you want to dream go to bed. But don’t waste my time. Did you hear a single word of what I said?”

“Er… no. Tell me again. I know how you love listening to yourself.”

Lucius gave him a sideways glance and shook his head. “Jupiter and Neptune—December 1982. Not bloody likely. Jupiter and Pluto—February 1985. Even less likely. Jupiter and Mars—very interesting. Extremely interesting. Because there is one on 31 July 1980, and the next on 31 October 1981. I wonder…”

“What? What is so special about that?”

“As I said, I’m not really into Astronomy, but would the repeated exposition of the same person to the same conjunction maybe increase the effect?”

“That’s rather easy to find out. Brilliant thought, Malfoy. Much as I hate to admit it. If that were really the case, we would gain a lot of time, almost two years. A lot can happen in two years…”

“Indeed. Will you take over from here on?”

Severus nodded and gathered Lucius’s parchments. “Yes. I’ll see what I can find out. Can I keep these?”

“I’m glad if I don’t have to see them anymore. What about the potion, then?”

Severus told him about the progress he had made so far. “I tried with silver, and I tried with wolfsbane. Both substances have an absolutely deleterious effect, because the silver interacts with the unicorn blood—”

“Interacts? How?”

“It seems that unicorn blood and silver have a grater affinity than Thaumatocytes and unicorn blood. The unicorn blood is immediately drawn to the silver, abandons the Thaumatocytes, so they are destroyed by the werewolf blood.”

“I see. And the wolfsbane?”

“The wolfsbane alone makes the werewolf blood so aggressive that it succeeds in destroying even the unicorn blood and consequently the Thaumatocytes.”

“Bloody hell. Pardon the pun.”

“I couldn’t have found a more congenial expression. Bloody hell indeed. I need to find a substance powerful enough to annihilate the werewolf blood that doesn’t damage the unicorn-cum-Thaumatocytes. And so far, I don’t have a clue. Which is where you come in.”

“Want to try with my venomous blood?” Lucius asked, grinning.

“Good idea. But that was not what I meant. I need to use your library. But,” he said, raising his hand to silence Lucius, “I cannot risk being found out. Officially, you don’t know about this project. Therefore, you must drop a hint about needing help with some research of yours in St. John’s presence. So my repeated presence at the Manor and in the library becomes perfectly explainable, in case St. John is keeping tabs on us. Unless, of course,” he added with a smirk, “you are able to name a substance right now. It would save me a lot of time and reading.”

“Ha, ha, Snape. Very funny. Do you think you’ll find anything in my library?”

“I think I might. I distinctly recall your father mentioning some whacky ancestor of yours, who was a passionate herbologist and incorporated a small but unique collection of relevant works into the family library. I have a feeling as if I could make a very interesting find there.”

“All right. I’ll bring up the matter as casually as possible. Although it piques me a bit that Lestrange will get the impression that you’re helping me with my thesis. Well,” he said and rose from his chair, “that seems to be all. Don’t forget about the Astronomy stuff.”

“I won’t,” Severus said, opening the door for him and preceding him down the stair.

“You know,” Lucius muttered from behind him, “All this could be real fun if it were not so serious.”

“That’s probably the truest statement you ever made in your whole life, Malfoy. Good night.”