A/N: Submitted for Quarterly Mythology Challenge by Ravensgryff of Gryffindor House.
After another long night of flying, Snape had had enough of being on a broomstick. He and Draco touched down just before dawn; they were careful to remain concealed in case there happened to be an early riser about. They crept around until they found a house with a shed in the backyard and shut themselves for a couple of hours to rest. Snape peeked out before they re-entered into the sunlight. After so many hours of being in the dark, the brightness was nearly blinding. Although Snape had never been fond of sunny days, he now welcomed the warmth; anything was better than balancing his buttocks on a broomstick with the cold, damp air gnawing away at his bones.
As much as he dreaded doing it, Snape decided that the best way to gain some ground toward Malfoy Manor would be to take the Muggle train. Neither he nor Draco could drive a Muggle automobile, so there weren’t any other realistic options that he could conceive of. Draco told him of a secret tunnel that led from the mansion about a mile into the woods at the edge of his parents’ property. Even his Aunt Bellatrix didn’t know about the tunnel; for some reason, Draco’s father didn’t completely trust her.
Fortunately, Draco had been wearing his school uniform beneath his robes and Snape had on dark trousers and a matching jacket. They could move through the Muggle town without drawing too much attention to themselves. After walking for about twenty minutes, they found a small shop. The shopkeeper was a barrel-chested, middle-aged man with a bulbous nose and an odor of ale issuing from his pores. Snape quickly got directions to the nearest train, which was in Durham.
“It’s ironic, isn’t it sir?” Draco asked the question as the pair trudged along the outskirts of the town toward the train.
Snape looked at him and raised an eyebrow. “What is, Draco?”
“That you, to your knowledge, were finally free of the Dark Lord, but then in essence became enslaved by Dumbledore.”
Snape sneered at Draco for a moment before replying. “I suppose you could look at it that way. That goes to illustrate a fundamental truth in life: everything we do has a price attached. I made some very bad choices and I’ve been paying for them ever since.”
They walked the rest of the way in silence.
It only took one day of classes for Severus to realize that he’d been extremely distraught and clearly irrational when he went to Dumbledore for this teaching position, even after the Dark Lord was gone. By the time his morning classes were finished, he’d barely managed to restrain himself from dangling several of the first year little mongrels by their ankles over the lake within easy reach of the Giant Squid. He kept reminding himself that Hogwarts was safe, and that Dumbledore had helped him when he could have easily tossed him to the Wizengamot. Severus was so exhausted and dismayed by his current situation that he’d completely forgotten about precisely what night was approaching.
He was alone, locked in his quarters, just after dinner in the Great Hall. Professor Dumbledore had allowed him to have the office down in the dungeons. His living quarters consisted of a sitting room and a bedroom behind the office where he received students. Severus didn’t bring many personal effects with him other than clothing; in truth he didn’t own much to bring. The bedroom was quite stark with only a bed shoved over to one corner, a trunk at the foot of the bed and a chest of three drawers. On top of the chest, Severus kept a glass pitcher filled with water and a cloudy drinking glass that looked as if it needed washing.
The sitting room was slightly better, but not much. Opulence, such as Severus had seen in other parts of the castle, made him feel distinctly uncomfortable and out of his element. Instead there were shelves filled with books lining two walls from floor to ceiling and a writing desk kitty-cornered. At the opposite end of the room , a small fire burned. A two-person sofa sat before a small table, both on top of a rug bearing the symbol of Slytherin House.
Severus was behind his desk with a quill in hand, grading simply dreadful assignments from his first years. They really were an awful bunch; practically illiterate judging from the essays he’d received. It was a simple assignment, just two inches summarizing the text. Unbelievable, he thought, do I have to teach them the basics of the English…
His arm convulsed and the quill dropped. Severus’ hands went rigid and bent into a clawed form, incapable of closing or opening. The pain originated in the center of his wrist joint; it was a sharp, stabbing sensation that felt as if a railroad stake had been forced through it. He stared at him forearms, looking for signs of anything that would clue him in as to what was happening. The feeling started to travel upwards through the bones of his arms, past the elbow joint radiating through the bellies of his upper arm musculature. He howled in agony; it was as if his arms were being ripped open from the inside. He stumbled to the wall and slumped against it, his arms now completely useless, screaming and flinging his head around trying to escape this nightmare. But there would be no escape this night.
The spears traveling through his arms found his shoulders and then connected at his spine where they diverged again, simultaneously moving up into his skull and eye sockets, and down his spinal column. He dropped to the ground, paralyzed, but still able to roar out the expletives that this torture demanded. He was blinded and helpless, but still the pain did not stop.
He was stabbed through his hips, his groins, his legs and his feet. Still, the pain continued. When it finally seemed that every bone in his body had been skewered with the unseen rods, he started to experience jabbing pains along his skin. He had a fleeting memory of a few nights ago, when he’d felt a similar ripping sensation and he knew. It must be the new moon and he was experiencing the effects of the curse.
Like huge chunks of glass gouging their way out of his body, thick hairs started to emerge all over Severus’ body. He was now silent, as his throat had begun to constrict, barely allowing him to breathe. The searing and ripping only ended when there was an explosion of sensation as he felt his bones reconfigure themselves; extra extremities began to grow. He was becoming a giant spider. His vision returned, but instead of seeing one image, he now saw eight.
An hour passed before the transformation was complete. Severus found that he could still think once the torment subsided. He lifted one of his legs and attempted to inspect himself. He was no mere spider; he was more of a small Acromantula. In this form, he had a bit of a dilemma, which was making itself quite apparent. He had no way out of this room and he was being overcome with the most intense hunger he’d ever known, accompanied by a desire for blood.
He sensed a movement near the fireplace and slowly revolved to make out the figure of a rat. He scuttled over to it and pinned it below one of his forelegs.
He awoke the next morning and beyond the excruciating metamorphosis of the previous evening, Severus remembered nothing. His sitting room was a mess: the papers he’d been grading were scattered about the floor, spilled ink and quills littered the desktop and the center table was also upended. A small clock that had been resting on one of the bookshelves was now lying morosely near the sofa, it’s glass face an intricate web of fractures. It indicated that the time was only six o’clock. Severus decided that he would tidy the room, get himself cleaned up and then would head straight to Dumbledore’s office.
Either the Headmaster didn’t sleep or he sensed that something had gone awry within his castle, but when Severus opened his door to go out into the dungeon, Dumbledore was standing on the brink of knocking.
“Headmaster…I was just coming to see you.” Severus was slightly startled, but regained his poise easily.
“I expected that you would, Severus. Last night was the new moon and I wanted to see how you were feeling this morning.” Dumbledore appraised him over his half-moon shaped spectacles and then nodded as if he were satisfied. “I see that you’ve made it through the night with relatively little damage. Why don’t we go inside and we can discuss your next course of action.”
Severus stepped aside to allow Dumbledore access. They crossed the room, which looked like it had never been disturbed. Dumbledore sat on the sofa; Severus conjured a straight-backed chair and sat across from him. The center table separated the two. Dumbledore reached into his robes and produced a piece of parchment fragile enough for a mild breeze to reduce it to dust. He carefully unrolled it and turned it around for Severus to read.
The words “Draught of Athena” were written across the top of the page. The rest of the page read:
Ground Ram Horn,
Six Drops of fresh Dragonsblood,
Three Red Oak leaves,
Two Monkshood flowers harvested at the new moon,
A pinch and a half Hellebore,
Dried Nightshade,
Olive oil base,
Must be brewed for six hours on the sixth day after the full moon.
Severus stopped reading, but stared at the potion instructions hungrily. He resisted the urge to snatch them off of the table. The potion did not appear to be all that complicated and he wondered how such a simple potion could cure such an arcane and dark curse.
Dumbledore spoke up. “Unfortunately, the potion will not work unless the recipient has undergone at least one full transformation. It is deceptively simple to make, but there is one other obstacle to using it effectively.”
Severus glanced up at Dumbledore. Of course there had to be a catch, he thought angrily. He felt that he’d been tricked somehow, that Dumbledore had raised his hopes for nothing. A scowl drew the corners of his mouth downward.
“In order to administer the potion,” Dumbledore continued, “you will need a very special artifact called the Aspergillum of Athena. Legend tells us that Athena became angered during her weaving contest with Arachne; she was unhappy with the subject matter of her tapestries and also with Arachne’s arrogance. Athena chastised Arachne, and the girl became so distraught that she hung herself. The goddess took pity and sprinkled this potion onto the young woman using the Aspergillum. She was revived, but came back to life as a spider. Without the Aspergillum, the potion is virtually useless.”
Severus absorbed this information for a few moments, his eyes not seeing anything but the horizon and his fingers creating a steeple in front of his face. “Why does the potion require that the cursed party undergo a transformation before they may use the it effectively?” There was a hint of accusation in his tone.
Dumbledore was apparently going to overlook the snideness in Severus’ statement and replied calmly, “Whoever created this curse did so as a means of severe punishment. For a long time there was no way to counter it; however, once the potion was formulated it was discovered that it could work as long as the recipient had transformed at least once. Unfortunately, it seems that the curse ensures that the accursed will endure at least some level of torment.”
Severus closed his eyes briefly and then slowly stood up. He crossed to the bookshelves and caressed a few of the leather bindings. The feel of them against his skin was soothing. “And where would I find this…Aspergillum, sir?”
“Therein lies the challenge, Severus. I would begin with one of the Wizard antique shops. There is a quite reputable one, called Aurora’s Antiques in Manchester. It’s been in existence for centuries. I will send an owl to the current owner and tell her that you’ll be coming to see her. Further, I will put all available resources at your disposal in order for you to research this. If you need to travel, we can make arrangements for your classes to be covered in your absence. Now, is there anything else that I can do for you, Severus? I am quite hungry and I do believe that breakfast is now being served in the Great Hall.”
“No, I mean, thank you, sir. I appreciate your support in this matter. I will begin my search at once.” With that, Severus followed Dumbledore out into the hall.
Severus decided to wait until the weekend to visit Aurora’s. Although finding the artifact was a time sensitive matter, his sense of responsibility would not allow him to take personal time so soon after beginning this new position, even if he did loathe the children.
On Saturday morning he lit a fire in his sitting room, tossed in a handful of Floo powder and shouted, “Aurora’s Antiques!” Everything began to spin around him and then he was flying out of the grate into a rather large, cluttered room. He looked around for anyone; Dumbledore had told him that the owner’s name was Talair and that she’d be expecting him today. When he didn’t see anyone, he called out, “Hello? Is anyone here?”
He looked around the shop. There were glass display cases scattered through the room and larger pieces of furniture lining the walls. Merchandise hung suspended from the ceiling and the walls. He expected it to smell musty like old things sometimes can, but the air held a hint of fresh flowers. Severus was becoming a bit uneasy about the silence so he ventured forward toward a low glass display counter when he saw a small bell on top. As he lifted his hand to ring it, a voice from behind caused him to flinch.
“Don’t ring that. It makes the clocks on the wall chime and I have a devil of a time getting them quieted down.”
Severus turned quickly to see a tall, young woman with caramel colored skin standing before him. She was wearing dark colored silky pants and a purple, thigh length tunic with a high collar. Even to him, a man who almost never noticed a woman for her physical attributes, she was quite a stunning vision. She had white hair that hung in a plait down to her waist and tattoos along her hands. He briefly wondered where else she was tattooed, and then wondered where she’d come from. The most striking thing he noticed were her eyes, which were a reddish brown color; he’d never seen anyone with eyes quite that hue. She seemed rather otherworldly to him, although he couldn’t pinpoint why. She smiled at him and said, “You must be Severus. Albus said you’d be here today, but I didn’t expect you quite so early.”
“I apologize ; I wasn’t sure what time you would open and I wanted to get an early start. You are Talair, I presume? I’m very eager to hear any information you might have. Did the Headmaster tell you what I’m looking for?”
“Yes,” she answered moving past him toward the counter, which he now saw contained several ornate daggers. “The Aspergillum. I haven’t had anyone ask about it in many, many years.”
To Severus, it didn’t appear that she had even been alive for many, many years. “You know its whereabouts, then?”
“Well, not exactly. As I said, it’s been ages since anyone has inquired about it. There was a gentleman, oh it had to have been around ‘forty-seven or ‘forty-eight…not long after the war ended, and he’d come around for it. He was a very handsome and charming gent, but a bit too much so, if you get my meaning. Anyway, I looked into it for him and tracked down the owner for him. I offered to broker a deal for him if she was willing, but he said he’d had some experience in the trade and would just as soon do it himself. I had no hard feelings about it. The strange thing is that a few days later I tried to contact her, just to see how it turned out, and I learned that she had died very suddenly, apparently in her sleep. The piece never turned up after that.”
Severus turned the information over in his mind. It sounded suspicious. “Do you remember the gentleman’s name by any chance?”
“Of course not. That was almost forty years ago!” She chuckled and reached below the counter for a dusty, leather bound book. “But, you’re in luck, my friend. I happen to keep very thorough records of everyone who makes an inquiry in my shop. You just never know... He didn’t give much information, but his name was…” She thumbed through the pages. “Yes, here it is! Tom Riddle. That’s him.”
Severus’ eyes flew open in surprise, but he hung his head down to conceal his shock at hearing the name. After a few moments, he looked up, thanked Talair for her help and excused himself, saying he needed to get back to the school. She accompanied him to the fireplace and held out a ceramic jar filled with powder. “Good luck. Let me know if I can help any more.” She flashed a coy smile at him and he felt unnerved.
“Thank you again. Er…there is one more question I have. How is it that you remember something so long ago? You seem too young…”
“Didn’t Albus tell you? I’m a half-Genie “ incredibly long life span.” She chuckled again and waved.
Severus nodded his head once in understanding and then without any further delay, returned to Hogwarts.
There was now a major decision looming over Severus’ head. He decided to go for a walk around the grounds. The sky outside was clear, but the wind whipped across the grounds performing a frenzied autumnal dance, twirling the leaves and frantically coaxing them up from the ground only to slam them back down to earth; the frenetic nature of the air swirling around and through him reminded Severus of the chaos that his life had so recently become. Would it get worse before it got better? All the indicators seemed to point toward that conclusion. The big question weighing on him at this particular moment, however, was how much should he confide in Albus Dumbledore? Did Severus dare mention Tom Riddle’s name to Dumbledore? Would Dumbledore think that he was already reverting to his old ways so soon after being given a second chance?
Then there was always the question of what Riddle did with the artifact once he claimed it; Severus had no doubt in his mind that he’d stolen it whether or not he’d killed the woman for it. But, why would he want it that badly?
Severus walked until his fingers were immobilized from the cold and then came to his decision. There were still a couple of hours until dinner, so he went to the Headmaster’s office. He spoke the password and descended the stone steps, then paused outside the door to knock. As he lifted his hand to do so, the door swung open and Professor Dumbledore looked up from the desk after stowing his wand in his robes. “Good afternoon, Severus. I hope your journey went well for you today.”
Severus entered the room and sat in the less squashy of two armchairs in front of the desk. “Your acquaintance at the antique shop was very helpful. She was able to trace the Aspergillum up until about forty years ago. The trail ends with…” He paused, reconsidering his decision to tell Dumbledore, but then deciding again that it was the best course. “Tom Riddle was the last one to seek it.”
“Ah,” said Dumbledore simply. “As Tom Riddle is allegedly destroyed, that may present a bit of a problem for you.” He paused in thought, tapping his fingers together and gazing into the horizon.
Severus didn’t think it useful at the moment to distract him. He glanced around the room and noticed a large red and gold bird perched near the desk. Reaching back into his memory banks, he deduced that this was a Phoenix. It was an attractive bird, but Severus observed it with a great deal of detachment.
“I think that your best chance of finding any clues to what you are seeking would be to visit the old Riddle House. You may have a better idea of where that might be than I would.”
Severus lifted an eyebrow, not sure if Dumbledore’s statement was meant to be antagonistic or not. “Yes, Professor. I have a good idea where the house is. I think it may take several days for me to make any progress, however.”
“As I said before, Severus, you may take as much time as you need. I see no need for you to suffer through more than you already have.” Dumbledore caught his eyes and held them with his own. Severus could feel the master Legilimens attempting to bore into his mind and fought against the invasion. Severus was a better-than-decent Occlumens, but Dumbledore was obviously the stronger of the two. The last thing that Severus wanted was for Dumbledore to start poking through any more of his dark memories. Finally, Severus broke the visual contact and Dumbledore said, “How long do you intend to punish yourself? You’ve made mistakes and you made every effort to rectify them. While it is natural for you to feel some level of guilt, you will not come to any good by tormenting yourself, Severus. You must find a way to forgive yourself.”
But that was the one thing that Severus just was not prepared to do, at least not yet. He could not abide by the foolish decisions that he’d made and what was worse, he couldn’t accept the fundamental fact that he was a phenomenal failure. He’d failed at being a Death Eater because he allowed sentimentality to weaken him. Then he failed at saving the Potters. In the deepest part of his soul, acidic as it was, he believed that he deserved to be cursed, and subconsciously he intended to take his time in curing himself. It seemed to be the least he should do. But, he didn’t want to admit it to himself and he certainly had no intention of laying himself bare for Dumbledore any more than he already had.
Dumbledore continued, “If you need the time, just ask, but I somehow doubt that you will.”
Severus quickly did some mental computations. If he waited until the Christmas holidays, that meant roughly another six weeks before he could get started; that meant at least one more transformation, undoubtedly worse than the last one. “Sir, I will visit the Riddle House next weekend. It may come to pass that I am lucky and find something right away and nearby. I’m not very optimistic that I will be that fortunate, but I should at least get started. I doubt that I will be able to avoid traveling, knowing who the last purported holder of the Aspergillum was. I fully expect to have to endure at least one more transformation. If that is the case and I haven’t found anything in the next few weeks, then I will spend the Christmas holidays traveling and seeking.”
“As you wish, Severus. If I can be of any further assistance, again all you need is to ask.”
With that, Severus excused himself and retreated to his office until dinner. He had much work to do.
A/N 2: According to The Witch's Goddess by Janet and Stewart Farrar, the Goddess Athena had several magical items attributed to her; the Aspergillum was one of them. It is a holy water sprinkler, usually seen in Catholic churches. In one version of the Arachne myth (see the Wikipedia free encyclopedia) after Arachne tried to hang herself, Athena sprinkled her with aconite juices. This flower is also known as Monkshood or Wolfsbane.