Note: The Pensieve is a really confusing device. I didn't intend it to play such a crucial role in this story, but now it does and it confuses even me. Without the very helpful questions of my beta rambkowalczyk it would be even worse!
Thanks for R&R
10 - Merlin’s Sleep
One day King Arthur and the Knight’s of his Round Table were deprived of Merlin’s wise counsel. The great sorcerer had gone on a stroll in the woods, yet from there he did not return. It was said that he met a beautiful woman in the wilderness and enthralled by her charms he taught her all his magic. But when he was done, his pupil betrayed him, turning his teachings against Merlin and overpowering him with his own magic. Under her spell he fell asleep by an enchanted tree, and he would not wake from his dreams. Winter and summer he spent in this deathlike trance and he would neither wake nor stir, regardless of whatever was happening around him. And somewhere he still sleeps, forever bewitched by his lady...
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Immediately after they emerged from the Pensieve, a heated discussion started. Minerva was the most excited, but Remus also felt thrilled. There was a possibility that Dumbledore was alive!
“It is only a trick! Why else would Black have left it for us to find?” Snape disagreed instantly.
“Of course it is,” McGonagall agreed. “But a Pensieve doesn’t lie! There is no way to alter the memories inside. Albus lives, we’ve seen him!”
“And when we go there to wake him, Regulus Black will be waiting for us, probably with a dozen Dementors at his whim. Bad idea,” replied Snape sourly.
“Do you know what could have happened to Dumbledore?” Remus asked.
The image of the old wizard sleeping under the wondrous tree had been faintly familiar. He thought he had once seen a picture depicting a scene like this, or maybe a poem describing a similar scene.
“I think I do,” the Transfigurations Mistress said with a nod. “And if I’m right, then there is hope. Have you ever heard of a spell called ‘Merlin’s Sleep’?”
Both men shook their heads, but the name of Merlin rang a bell within Remus. That was why the image was familiar! The story of Merlin and King Arthur. Hadn’t Merlin in the end been enchanted by an evil witch? But wasn’t that part of Muggle folklore, having nothing to do with the historical wizard Merlin?
“It is very ancient and powerful magic and I don’t know exactly how it is done,” she went on. “But it is said that Merlin knew of it and taught it to the witch Muggles know as the Lady of the Lake, Nimue. Some sources even say that he wanted to be enchanted in this way, so he could rest until he was needed again, others claim that she did it to overpower him.”
“How does it work?” Snape asked pragmatically. He obviously didn’t know the spell either.
“It entraps him in a magical slumber in a cave or a tree. He cannot die, and it is not said how exactly he can be woken up again. Some say only the one who cast the spell can reverse it. I’ve also read that it is supposed work best on old and powerful wizards who have a secret desire for rest.”
“Fits our Headmaster,” Snape said dryly. He was gazing longingly at the Pensieve. While he didn’t look quite healthy yet, some of his strength had returned since they had been in the Pensieve, as if even the short exposure to the addictive device had cured him. He seemed impatient to put his memories inside the bowl.
McGonagall nodded with a soft expression on her usually stern face. “Albus was fascinated with that story. I don’t know whether he was joking at the time or not, but he once told me that this was how he would like to die. It looked so peaceful, didn’t it?” She stared at the table, lost in thought.
“I think it is most inappropriate for Dumbledore to die peaceably now,” Snape answered her grumpily. And in spite of how insensitive that remark was Remus found himself agreeing with it.
“Can the spell only be used by women?” Remus asked. There were forms of magic that could only be done by certain groups of people, like women or children or mothers, especially ancient branches of magic. If ‘Merlin’s Sleep’ could only be done by a witch, then it was safe to assume that Regulus Black was not the one who cast it.
“I don’t know,” McGonagall said. “I don’t think so. But then again I also didn’t think that anyone today still knew how to do it. Albus knew a lot about ancient magic, but he never gave away how capable he was of doing this spell.”
“Why was the memory so blurred?” Remus changed the subject. “Is that normal? Could you discern who he was talking to?”
They shook their heads. “I’ve never seen any memory look that bad,” Snape commented. “But if they were Black’s memories, the person Dumbledore talked to was probably him.”
“Why would Dumbledore talk to him eighteen years ago?” McGonagall inquired.
“Wasn’t he still in school at that time? 1978 was the year we graduated and Regulus was three years younger than Sirius.” Remus reminded them. “There might be a number of reasons why they talked to each other.”
1978. He and Snape had been seventeen in that year. How strange to think of that. He sometimes felt so old, even though he was only 36, and sometimes it was as if he had always been that old. They had just graduated from Hogwarts back then. It had been a strange time, at once carefree and dark, a time where anything was possible; a time for thinking in black and white. Sirius and James had entered the Order, and so had Remus, although more reluctantly. Dumbledore had insisted on him joining them, but Remus had always known that some people didn’t trust him. And Snape probably had already been a Death Eater. When had Snape changed sides? Remus didn’t know. He made a mental note to ask about it.
The most important question though was whether they would go to that tree and try to wake Dumbledore. They all agreed that the tree was most likely located in the Forbidden Forest and that the memory placed so conveniently in the Pensieve was meant to lure them there.
Another thing they wondered about was Regulus’ intentions. Was he a servant of the Dark Lord? He had definitely joined them at some point and then, some sixteen years previously, had vanished, presumably dead. But he wasn’t dead and maybe it all had been a scheme to deceive them. Maybe Voldemort had wanted to make it seem as if Regulus had been killed by Death Eaters, only to make him reappear some months or years later, so that he could infiltrate the Order. When Voldemort himself was nearly vanquished by Harry, Regulus had to stay in hiding, just like Peter Pettigrew. Now that Voldemort was back, Regulus had returned to him. This was only a theory, though. If it were correct, why didn’t Voldemort act, now that all obstacles were out of the way?
Dumbledore had disappeared without warning shortly after the start of the term in September. Now it was the close to the end of October. For a certain time, the Order had managed to keep Dumbledore’s absence a secret from the public, but Voldemort would know of it by now (especially if Regulus was his servant). There was no one to protect Hogwarts and Voldemort could just enter the castle and kill Harry. What was he waiting for?
“Halloween!” Remus suddenly called out. “He’s waiting for Halloween.”
Snape looked sceptical. Remus quickly tried to explain.
“Well, hasn’t Voldemort always been concerned with such things? He loves complicated schemes, like using the Triwizard Cup to transport Harry out of Hogwarts, or using Harry to get at the Prophecy. He allowed Harry to battle him at the graveyard. It’s illogical, it’s not pragmatic, but he likes things to be meaningful and grand in appearance. Wouldn’t it be a triumph to kill Harry on the day he was nearly killed by him fifteen years ago?”
Snape slowly nodded; obviously surprised that Remus was able to get into the Dark Lord’s head so well and maybe also a little jealous.
“That might be it, Lupin. The Dark Lord wants to show that he is not scared, that he has all the time and leisure in the world to kill Potter.”
“But that only leaves us five days until Halloween to wake Albus up!” Minerva said in a thunderstruck voice.
“Five days!” she exclaimed. “There’s no time to lose, boys.” She quickly stood up, ignoring Snape’s indignant glare and looked for her cane. She was still using it since last year.
“I’ll have to do some research on that spell. Severus, you need to rest. No objections. Use that Pensieve, but don’t destroy Black’s memories,” she hastily instructed them. Snape frowned, but nodded. She disappeared in a hurry and they were alone once more.
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There wasn’t anything for Remus to do, so he just stayed in the drawing room and watched Snape put his thoughts into the Pensieve. It seemed to require a lot of attention and neither of them talked for a long time. It was getting cooler and the sun went behind the clouds. To pass the time Remus went to fetch new wood for the fireside.
The Eyrie was a lovely place, old-fashioned and cosy. Remus already felt at home here. He dreaded the prospect of having to leave to look for another cheap Muggle flat almost as much as he dreaded the idea of losing this fight, but one or the other would happen. He would have liked to live in a house like this. He stopped his daydreaming when he remembered what he had wanted to ask earlier.
“1978. What did you do in that year?”
He didn’t want to ask straightaway ‘were you a Death Eater or a spy?’. Snape stopped in the middle of putting a silver thread of memory into the Pensieve and glared at him.
“Graduate, what else,” he huffed. “Are you getting senile on top of your lunacy?”
Remus laughed it off. “Come on. You know what I am talking about.”
“I joined them in seventy-seven,” Snape said uncomfortably, but he was already looking at the Pensieve again. Absentmindedly he touched the wrist of his left arm. It was covered by his black robes, but Remus knew what he would see there if Snape rolled up his sleeve.
“But I received the Mark in seventy-eight. I earned it the hard way. The Dark Lord wasn’t as desperate to take anyone as Dumbledore was,” Snape said with a meaningful look to Remus, who chose to ignore it for the sake of getting to hear more of Snape’s history.
“By that time I was the best potions brewer among his followers. Poisons and mind-control, fame and glory, life and death “ if it was dark, I could brew it. I earned that Mark.”
Remus had never heard Snape sound so bitter before, despite the note of pride that was evident in his voice. But whether the bitterness was aimed at his own foolish actions or at his former master or at the world in general “ Remus didn’t know.
The room was filled with flickering orange shadows from the fire and candles. It accentuated Snape’s features, the hooked nose and thin lips and made him seem older than he was.
“I earned that Mark, and nothing else,” he said with a very low voice.
“It was not what you expected?”
“It was not what I wanted!” Snape shot at him with a sudden vehemence and vulnerability.
“You worked hard to earn respect,” Remus acknowledged. “You wanted to be accepted as someone who was valuable.”
“I was valuable,” Snape retorted. “As valuable as a wand, or a rare ingredient. A useful tool; that is what I am. And don’t think that became any different after I changed sides.”
Snape’s look had become challenging all of a sudden. They were sitting in the silent, fire-lit drawing room, and Snape was staring over the table at him as if it were a court-room and Remus were the defendant. He was accusing him and all other Order members of something Remus could hardly deny: that they didn’t appreciate him as a person. Neither of them said anything until Remus lowered his gaze. Snape reciprocated.
“As Lily Potter oh-so politely put it once, I am a person with a ‘most unfortunate character’.”
She must have been angry at him, Remus thought; probably after he insulted her one too many times. Yes, that was something Snape would do. He insulted people all the time, and he aimed at the places where it hurt the most. Fairness was alien to him, as was sensitivity. He demanded respect, but didn’t respect others. He could be annoyingly stubborn and childish.
“Lily was a very bright girl,” Remus said calmly into Snape’s face. “She was just and honest, and she was always courageous. She never judged people before she knew them. But she could get very angry, too. I believe that what she was talking about was not your personality. She was talking about your behaviour, your manners, Snape. She didn’t really know anything else about you, or did she?”
Snape remained frozen. He resembled a rabbit in a field of hippogryphs wanting to run but paralysed by fear.
“You can be a horrible person. You are, to be very blunt, a pain in the ass most of the time.” Remus smiled apologetically even while he said this. There was no way Snape could deny this. But the other man had resorted to staring unbelievingly.
“But that has not much to do with your personality. In fact I think that you rarely give us a glimpse of who you are. But do you remember what Dumbledore always says? I’m sure he’s told you, too. Our choices and actions define us. And from your choices and actions, you are one of the most valuable people I know.”
Remus didn’t say ‘and one of the bravest’, because it needn’t be said. But he thought it. Few people would risk and sacrifice as much as Snape did. By offering Dumbledore his services, he had thrown away all security and power he had ever had. He cut the ties (thin as they might have been) to his Slytherin comrades. But it not only took a lot of courage to do such a thing. It took a mind that was independent enough to make choices of its own, to decide what was morally wrong and what was right without depending on the opinions of your peers. There weren’t many people who could do this.
But it wasn’t just his life that Snape had offered Dumbledore. It was his whole person, his identity, his personality that he had to twist and turn in order to service him. And what was his reward? A place in the rank of Dumbledore’s fighters, where not many truly trusted or respected him, and a sanctuary at Hogwarts, where he had to do what he despised wholeheartedly: teaching. No wonder the man was bitter.
That didn’t mean that it was okay for Snape to behave the way he did. Yes, he had to keep up an appearance, but he didn’t have to torment his students the way he did. Remus wished that Snape would be nicer sometimes, and not so stubborn.
Snape opened his mouth, no doubt in order to insult him, but there came no sound. He closed it again. His resistance was faltering and it scared him to death by the look of it.
“But that’s just words,” was his sudden, forced reply. “Meaningless phrases...”
Remus sighed. “I’m going to bed Snape. I mean, I’m going to sleep. You get the bed. She said you should rest, didn’t she?” He got up and walked over to the sofa, putting out the candles in this part of the room.
He was terribly tired as he never did get to sleep after coming back from the Black family crypt, but it was also a way to escape further conversation. A way to give Snape room. He lay down on the sofa, crossed his arms over his chest, tucked a pillow behind his head and covered himself with his cloak. Then he closed his eyes. The room was very quiet except for the fire, as if Snape wasn’t there at all. After a few minutes, the other wizard put out the remaining candles and the fireplace and went out of the room in silence.
In the gloom of the cloudy afternoon, Remus smiled, just a little bit.
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In the early morning hours, when both of them were still asleep, McGonagall returned from Hogwarts. It was now October the 26th.
She woke them at eight ‘o’ clock and presented them with a nice breakfast. Food tasted the same whether it was conjured by magic or not, but the magical food was not very nourishing. Outside, it was raining ceaselessly. Over jam, toast, ham and eggs and glasses of pumpkin juice, she instructed them about what she had found out at Hogwarts.
Snape didn’t show any sign of being upset from their conversation of the day before. In fact, it was as if their conversation had never happened. Maybe it was better that way. Remus had been afraid of having gone too far. As always when he reached out to people he was afraid of being rejected, of changing a relationship for the worse. At least that didn’t seem to have happened.
Minerva gave them the account of what had happened during her visit at Hogwarts. “I know there were several books about Merlin which mentioned the sleeping spell, but none of them were available in the library. Someone else must have them, but it was too late yesterday, I couldn’t ask Madam Pince.”
“Why ask? It’s obviously Black who has them,” Snape said after a sip of tea.
“Wouldn’t that mean that he somehow suspected us to look for them?”
“Of course. He probably already knows that we took the Pensieve and it would be a logical step for us to try and research this. He’s one step ahead of us,” Snape concluded.
McGonagall pursed her lips, shrugged and went on. “My private bookshelves contained no helpful material. But I looked into a book about Pensieves.”
She bit off a piece of toast, chewed and emptied her cup of tea.
“There were several explanations as to why the memory was so blurry. Explanation one was that the memory was taken forcibly out of someone’s head. Explanation two was that the person it was taken from was suffering a severe damage of the brain, or already dead.”
“The author suggested that memories of dreams and hallucinations would also look unclear, but I think that’s not very probable in our case. Explanation number three is that the person who put it into the Pensieve was under some form of mind-control, for example some one whose memory was Obliviated or someone who was under the Imperius Curse. Memory charms mess with your memory and mind-control like the Imperius often mess with the way you perceive reality. A memory that is true but contradicts the orders a person has been given under the Imperius would look blurry, while a memory that does not contradict those orders would look perfectly normal.”
“And the last, and most likely explanation is that the scene which is blurry in the Pensieve showed some kind of Glamour.”
There were a couple of charms that could be categorised as Glamours. Remus didn’t know much about them. They weren’t taught at Hogwarts as they had no practical use but to deceive people. They weren’t illegal like the unforgivable curses or love potions, but in fact a Glamour was no better than a lie.
“As used by Regulus Black?”
She nodded. “He could have used a Glamour when talking to Dumbledore, don’t you think? Obviously the younger Mr Black had more skills than he let on.”
“I get the feeling that no one really knew him,” Remus mused, saying this more to himself than to the others. “Even his own brother underestimated him.”
Snape scowled. “Is that sentimental nonsense of any importance, Lupin? Important is that the scenes we saw in the Pensieve were true and that there is something Black doesn’t want us to know about ‘Merlin’s Sleep’, which is why he hides all the relevant books.”
Remus considered arguing with Snape, but then just turned away and stared out of the window.
“Well, there isn’t much we can do now, other than try and wake Albus,” McGonagall said tiredly. She got up, put the dishes into the sink and a brush automatically started washing them. With a quick flick of her wand she cleaned the table.
“Or has anybody got a better plan?” she challenged them.
“Kill Black,” Snape suggested instantly. Like always, he didn’t let go of old grudges.
“And what if only he can wake Albus? We cannot risk that,” countered the Deputy Headmistress.
“Kidnap him, then,” Snape answered her with vehemence.
“Too dangerous. Hogwarts is swarming with Aurors and Dementors looking for the two of you. And Black would know better than be so careless.”
Remus stared out of the small windows, watching the cold drizzle and the foggy clouds drifting over the Welsh mountainside. The clouds wrapped around the trees like gauze veils. A plan formed inside his mind.
“Snape and I could Apparate to the Forbidden Forest, outside the Anti-Apparation Zone. The smell of a blossoming apple tree and a wizard should be relatively easy for me to follow. I’ll lead us the tree. Regulus should have classes to teach right now, but if he’s waiting there for us, which he probably is, he’ll try to catch us. We’ll let him catch us.”
Snape raised a brow.
“And when he triumphs over us, gleefully declaring his victory, he won’t notice the small tabby cat approaching him from behind. At least not until it’s too late and she’s hexed him into next week.” Snape shrugged, which was as good as a ‘yes’. Remus tilted his head and gazed expectantly at McGonagall. A thin smile spread on the teacher’s stern face.
“I’m getting the impression, Mr Lupin, that I should have wondered more often who was behind Mr Black’s and Mr Potter’s pranks.”