To Know Who I Am

Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to my beta reader, ubiquirk, my Brit-picker, Saracen77, and my alpha readers, Bluedolfyn and Willow_Kat. Additional thanks to Camillo1978 for pointing out I'd made an error in reference to one of the animals described in this chapter so that I could fix it!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything you recognize and I'm not making any money from this. If you think otherwise, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.

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Chapter 19


When he woke, it took Severus a moment to remember why it was so dark. Carefully extricating himself from a sleeping Celia, he parted the curtains and slipped out of bed and into the loo. After he washed his face, he took a long look in the mirror, sliding his dressing gown aside to uncover the scar on his shoulder. Strange to think she had been the one to make Lucius’ curse shoot wild. He had always thought that it had been Moody’s doing, but the paranoid ex-Auror had apparently been a fraction of a second later.

As that assumption bothers Moody quite a lot, I don’t think I will disabuse him of it.

He smirked, though he became more serious as one of Alastor’s favorite expressions echoed through his mind.

“Some spots don’t come out.”

He hadn’t quite come to see his Dark Mark as “just another scar,” but it was strange to think of it being taken away. Freeing, surely, but also strange. He wasn’t quite sure he deserved to have this last reminder of his worst, most unforgivable mistakes simply erased. Of course, depending upon how long the woman sleeping in his bed remained in his life, it might not be the last reminder after all.

After the initial shock, he had, he realized, fallen into a very old mental habit. He’d largely ignored his own reactions to the unfolding revelations in favor of focusing on the tactical situation. It was an approach that had long served him well, and it had done so again last night. It was rather different, however, attempting to continue to do so while still sharing his quarters and bed with another person, particularly the person around whom said revelations centered.

She was nothing like the megalomaniac who’d controlled his life for so long. Her attempt to trick herself into believing all those revelations could be left outside the bed curtains showed that she certainly took no pleasure from the news. And her fear that he’d somehow been compelled to attach himself to her, while somewhat mystifying, affirmed that she’d inherited nothing of the Dark Lord’s desire to hold others under thrall. The question now was whether he could ever return to seeing her without seeing a link back to the worst years of his life. He supposed it was rather optimistic to assume she would remain with him long enough for that question to be answered.

Forcibly abandoning that train of thought, he finished his toilet and returned to his bedroom to find the bed hangings once again tied back and the room empty. A hastily scrawled note reiterated the patently obvious: she’d returned to her cottage to dress and would go from there to Minerva’s office. He wondered if she merely assumed he’d told Minerva they would brief her over breakfast or had Flooed the Headmistress herself.

The clock indicated that he had ample time before said meeting to collect his thoughts, so he decided to walk rather than Floo.

~ ~ ~

Feeling more rushed than nervous – or so she told herself – Celia had a little trouble enlarging her trunk to fish out a change of clothes. She sort of overshot it and had to reduce everything back to normal. Then her hair turned out to be the worst nest of tangles she could ever remember. And then she had to go to the bathroom for the third time since she’d woken up.

No, not nervous at all.

She really did have a few minutes to spare, so she went out into her greenhouse for a minute. Sometimes just being around her plants calmed her.

The hybrids were doing well. Was it just yesterday she’d thought she was going to have to abandon them? In a few more weeks, they’d be ready to test. There might not be a Potential here, but there would be others, so whatever else happened, her research needed to continue.

The somewhat-less-little-than-it-used-to-be smooth snake poked its head out from behind a pot and then slithered over to her automatically outstretched hand, quickly wrapping around her wrist.

“You know, suddenly, you’re kinda creepy,” she said softly. “It’s not your fault, but … yeah.”

It flicked its tongue out silently.

“Also? It’s been spring for a couple of days. I’m thinking it’s time for you to head out. It’s kind of amazing you’re not sick from missing your winter sleep.”

She walked over to the door and opened it, stooping over so that the snake could feel the new blades of grass coming up. It uncoiled itself from her wrist and seemed ready to explore but then darted back past her and into the greenhouse again, faster than she thought it had any business moving.

“Fine, be that way! I swear, Parseltongue or no, sometimes I think you do understand me, and now you’re just being obstinate. You can’t live in here forever, you know!” she called after it, as it slithered under a bench and out of sight.

With a huff, she went back into her cottage just in time to hear the Floo activate.

~ ~ ~

As he rounded a corner, Severus came upon a group of Slytherins, mostly first and second years, just in time to see one of them go flying backwards towards the wall.

“Arresto momentum!” he cast sharply, adding a nonverbal Cushioning Charm for good measure as the boy fell to the floor rather than smashing into the wall.

Lightfeather. Of course.

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” he demanded.

The students darted looks at each other silently.

“Answer me or you shall all have detention for the duration of your holidays!”

Lightfeather scrambled to his feet. “We were just …”

“You were just what, Mister Lightfeather? Demonstrating the effectiveness of stone when it collides with the human skull? I trust the resulting mess would have been fairly minor, as clearly yours has little inside it but air. Still, Mister Filch has enough work without your adding to it.”

The boy looked at the floor.

Severus’ eyes narrowed. “Give me your wand, Mister Lightfeather.”

“Wh-what?”

“I do not care to repeat myself,” he snapped, holding his hand out for the wand that was reluctantly produced.

Holding it before him, Severus cast Prior Incantato and was dismayed by the sequence of spells that appeared. All of them beyond the first year curriculum. All from the boy’s Defense tutoring. Clearly the boy had more Slytherin in him than had been apparent thus far. However, such behavior could not be countenanced.

“Mister Lightfeather, you will serve detention with me tonight at eight o’clock.” Severus fixed the boy in a steely glare. “And if you ever attempt to play teacher again, you will spend every Saturday for the remainder of the term in detention. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly, sir.” The boy shakily accepted his wand back.

“Get to breakfast, the lot of you,” Severus snarled, and they fled.

Walking rather faster, he started once again for Minerva’s office, any thoughts of having a bit of calm to sift through his thoughts now abandoned.

~ ~ ~

“Giles?”

“May I come through?”

She narrowed her eyes. “If you are Giles, you don’t need an invite, and if you’re not, you won’t get one.”

Seconds later, he stepped out of the green flames, brushing soot off his jacket. Celia cast a quick Cleansing Charm to get rid of the rest of it.

“Thank you,” he said evenly.

She crossed her arms. “So, what brings you here this fine morning? The lovely weather? Nowhere else to spend a sunny spring Saturday?”

“Don’t play stupid. It doesn’t suit you.” He gestured to the couch.

“I’m supposed to be in Minerva’s office in a few minutes,” she replied, still standing. “Just tell me. Why are you here?”

“You seem to be taking all this rather well.” He looked over the rims of his glasses at her. “Surprisingly well.”

“No, Giles, I’m not taking this well.” She ran her fingers through her hair. “I’m just … we need to deal with this Hellmouth-wannabe, we still don’t have all the info we need to do that, and the rest is just going to have to wait!”

“I’m afraid it can’t. Would you sit down, please?”

“It’s my sitting room,” she muttered as she complied. “And I’m all for the waiting. What’s the sudden hurry? I mean, okay, yes, we just found out last night that my biological father was evil. Doesn’t mean it hasn’t been true for twenty-four years. Besides, like Kennedy said, it’s not that much different than our Slayer powers coming from demons. Doesn’t mean we’re evil. And while, okay, plants are more my area of expertise, I’m pretty sure people don’t have actual genes for evil.”

There went the eyebrow.

“I was not going to suggest that you were,” he said. “However, it seems you’ve given the matter some thought.”

She squirmed.

“Celia, nearly seven years ago, you suddenly discovered that you were both a Slayer and a witch. Last night you learned something rather disturbing about your parentage. It’s entirely understandable that you would fear the possibility of some further new revelation about yourself.” He straightened his glasses. “I’d be rather more concerned if you really were as cavalier about the matter as you’ve been trying to act for the last five minutes.”

A wave of relief washed over her, and she could feel the tension leaving her shoulders and neck.

“However, I need to assess the likelihood that said fear might impair your judgment in this mission. When is Minerva expecting you?”

The knot at the base of her neck started tying itself back up again.

~ ~ ~

When he arrived at Minerva’s office at last, Celia was already there, as was her Watcher, surprisingly, as well as a very red-faced Potter.

“How kind of you to join us, Severus,” Minerva said, waving him to his seat. “While everything we have discussed so far is information you already possess, I hardly expected you to be so tardy.”

“My apologies, Headmistress,” he replied. “I had to deal with a gaggle of miscreants on my way here.”

She gave an impatient sniff, which he took to mean that she assumed the miscreants had been Gryffindors. A reasonable guess, though incorrect in this case. He chose not to belabor the issue.

“Have you, then, been updated on all that the demon revealed?” he asked instead.

“Yes.” She drew her spectacles to the end of her nose and looked over them. “And I might add that your … synopsis of last evening was rather condensed, even for you.”

Potter glared at him. Apparently, whatever sympathy he’d held last night had worn off.

Severus tilted his head slightly as he replied, “We were given a timetable that allots nearly two months to solving and rectifying the problem. If this morning, with all of us having slept, is not soon enough to begin tackling the problem, surely a few additional hours would have made little difference.”

“Minerva,” Celia interrupted, oddly enough not looking at the Headmistress at all, “if you’re going to be mad at anyone for not telling you anything sooner, I’m thinking maybe up there would be a better place to start.”

All eyes went to the portrait that hung above and behind the Headmistress’ desk, pretending, as usual, to be sleeping.

“Whatever do you mean?” Minerva asked. “Albus? Were you aware of any of this? Albus!”

The painting snorted and opened its eyes, its expression suggesting the befuddlement of the just-awakened. Severus did not believe it for a minute and found the act typically infuriating.

“Hmm, what? Was I aware of what, my dear?”

Celia responded instead. “At what point, Headmaster Dumbledore, did you realize I was the child whose powers you bound and who you brought to Cleveland’s Family Services?”

He is the one who brought her there? Yes, of course. How many wizards or witches could bind someone’s powers with a spell linked to the death of a paranoid wizard in pursuit of immortality?

Anger began to simmer as Severus wondered what the answer to Celia’s question would be. It would be just like him to have known all this time and said nothing, so long as that suited the portrait’s understanding of what Dumbledore would have done. So long as it served some bizarre notion of who did or did not need to know.

“I suspected during your interview,” the portrait replied. “The timing with which your magical powers awoke was, of course, highly suggestive, though the matter of the Slayer activation spell rather confused matters.”

Celia snorted and muttered, “Among other things.”

“Quite.”

“What?” Minerva all but screeched. “Albus, you are tasked to serve whomever rightfully sits in this office, as are the rest of the portraits of past Heads of Hogwarts. Why did you say nothing of this to me?”

“It was but a suspicion,” the painting replied.

“You knew!” Potter said darkly, fiddling not quite aimlessly with the wand in his hand. “You enjoy your secrets just as much as the real Dumbledore.”

“There was no reason –” the painting began.

“When you were so diligently convincing me that we should keep Professor Reese here, you might have mentioned that the reason you wanted her here had nothing to do with being a Slayer and rather more to do with being a descendant of one of the Founders!” Minerva was fast turning a shade of red that did not suit her at all. In fact, given her age and some of the strains put on her heart over the years, Severus thought it might be wise to calm her quickly, even if he shared her outrage for entirely different reasons.

“Potential descendant, Minerva,” he said. “And surely you have noticed by now that he is hardly less manipulative in this form than the true Dumbledore was in life?”

“Now see here!” the Watcher interjected. “Just how do you, of all people, think you can say –”

“That will do, Rupert,” Minerva cut in, her color returning to less dangerous levels. “I will not have my office turned into a battleground.”

The Watcher subsided, still shooting periodic glares at Severus.

“And the real Dumbledore was the one who did this?” Potter demanded. “Pretty arrogant, aren’t you?”

Celia narrowed her eyes at him. “You know, it doesn’t take anything away from you that you weren’t the only baby he had to find a place for! Anyway, when you consider the fact Severus had brought my mother to an Order member, it kind of falls together.”

“I’m sorry,” Minerva said, “but what did you have to do with this, Severus?”

Apparently Celia had also edited her tale.

“I was ordered to dispose of her mother,” he replied. “The rest is as Celia described.” He was unsure what he thought of the approving gleam he saw in his superior’s eyes at that information.

“What Order member was it, Albus?” she asked.

“Marlene McKinnon,” the portrait replied. “A good choice, really. Selena was in very good hands with her.”

Celia’s expression had grown both sad and intrigued as Dumbledore’s portrait mentioned her mother, but she said nothing, though it was clear she wanted to ask something. Severus found himself wishing he’d known her mother better. As she had been in a different year and House, he’d barely known her name. While his own family had been something of a disaster, he couldn’t quite fathom not knowing one’s parents at all, and it was a shame that Celia was likely to learn far more about the Dark Lord than her mother. Darting a glance at the still-furious Potter, he realized with a twinge of conscience that it was something he should have considered some time ago.

“The one flaw in your plan, ” Celia said at last, “was that you didn’t, couldn’t foresee just how many times he would have to die. Your binding spell wavered, blinked sort of, each time he or one of his soul-fragments died.”

The portrait appeared shaken. Severus took a bit of guilty satisfaction from the fact that clearly this was not something that had been considered.

“And what was the effect of this ‘blinking’?” it asked.

As she explained, Severus watched the painted features traverse a range of expressions rarely seen. It was something of a bitter pleasure to see the man, or at least his image, flummoxed by his own lack of omniscience.

“That’s why I can speak Parseltongue and she can’t,” Potter interjected after some time. He turned to look at her. “It wasn’t part of his power, it was hers. So, you going to want it back? Just suck it right out of me, maybe? Bet you’re wishing now you hadn’t taught me how to fight back against that!”

She rolled her eyes, though she still appeared angry. “Yeah, Harry. Sure. Do you not get that I’m completely creeped out that I even like snakes now? What’s it going to take to convince you I’m not the Big Bad here? Because I thought we got past that weeks ago!”

“If I may,” Dumbledore’s portrait put in. “Harry, has your scar bothered you at all while you have been in Professor Reese’s presence?”

Potter shifted in his chair.

“Even when you were using magic against each other?” the painting continued.

“Well, no,” Potter grudgingly admitted. “But that just means she’s not actually him, and I knew that.”

“Could we please,” Minerva said firmly, “return to the matter of how to proceed with this information?”

Celia looked abashed. Potter appeared sullenly unrepentant.

“Do let’s,” the Watcher agreed. “If Celia is to travel to Avalon, the sooner she starts, the more likely she will return before the Easter holidays end, an outcome I am sure you would prefer. They do begin next week, yes?”

Avalon? Apparently I was later to this meeting than I had realized. Bloody students. What in Merlin’s name is he on about?

Surprisingly, Celia did not seem to follow him either.

“Avalon? Giles, I must’ve heard you wrong. Obviously you meant Atlantis.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” the Watcher replied. “Atlantis is under at least a mile of water.”

Celia just stared at him for a minute, then continued, “Or, really, I was thinking Australia, because maybe an island isn’t an island when it’s a continent. And we could maybe even move on to the B’s.”

“‘The island that is not an island.’ I have not heard it referred to in those terms in years,” Severus murmured, giving the Watcher a sharp glance, “and never outside discussion of books that are at least several centuries old. Are you certain?”

“The Watcher’s Council has, on occasion, studied the portal on Glastonbury Tor. It does seem to lead to another dimension, though why that should be required for seeking this information, I do not know.” He removed his glasses and polished them briefly. “As it seems there is some time before we can expect the Death Eaters to act, the priority should be for Celia to obtain this information.” He turned to her. “You’re certain he addressed that solely to you?”

“I don’t know.” She shook her head. “I was kind of overwhelmed by that point.”

“It did appear so,” Severus put in almost unwillingly. He didn’t like the sound of this venture and would prefer someone else to make it.

Minerva tapped her fingertips on her desk, the noise deafening in the otherwise silent office.

“As we still do not have all the relevant information,” she said at last, “it would seem that is the logical course of action. Celia, please proceed with all due haste. Whatever the Death Eaters’ timeline may be, I would like this resolved sooner rather than later. Harry?”

The prat obviously had some hair-brained scheme in mind from the glint in his eyes.

“I guess I have some ideas how to help Xander sort out this ‘previously untapped talent’ he’s supposed to have. It sounded like that was going to be important.” Potter shrugged with clearly forced nonchalance. “I can get started on that in the meantime.”

“In case you have forgotten, Seers have a proclivity for making everything sound important,” Severus pointed out. “While I am willing to accept the assurances we have received as to this demon’s credibility, that tendency should not be discounted.”

Potter merely shrugged again.

“Also, Minerva,” Severus said, “I believe you are overlooking a matter of security. If I may –”

“I’ll take Willow,” Celia interrupted. She held up a hand to forestall any argument. “There’s no point taking two targets outside Hogwarts’ protections, even if they did get in once already.”

“It is traditional for a Watcher to accompany a Slayer on a quest –”

“Anybody imbued you with their powers lately?” Celia interrupted again. “Because otherwise, if those Death Eaters show up, you’re toast. Tradition, shmadition.”

“If you would have allowed me to finish, I was about to agree with you on those grounds.”

Severus found himself in unaccustomed sympathy with the man’s apparent frustration. As the last time they had interacted, he appreciated that, for all the man’s apparent faults, he did have Celia’s safety in mind.

“Oh.” She deflated a bit, then shook herself. “Well, you can tell me more when we go trade you for Willow. A lot more. Like everything you even think you know about this Avalon thing more.” She stood, and Severus, Potter, and the Watcher rose as well. “If I may?”

“All due haste would tend to suggest that you ought to have left several minutes ago,” Minerva replied dryly.

For a moment, Severus feared Celia would insist upon kissing him for good-bye in front of this … audience. Then he found himself annoyed that she might not do so due solely to her Watcher’s presence. He scowled at his own inconsistency.

“Walk us back to my cottage?” Celia asked.

He smirked as Minerva dismissed the three of them and asked Potter to remain.

~ ~ ~

“It looks like the New Age exploded,” Celia said.

“Yeah, and it took out that monastery back there,” Willow agreed.

“Abbey,” Celia corrected. “It says it was Glastonbury Abbey.”

The two witches had Flooed into a natural foods store owned by a friend of Giles and were making their way to the site where Celia was supposed to make her quest or whatever it was going to be. As they turned onto the High Street, Celia noticed a small internet café next to a place called The George & Pilgrim. She sighed.

“Internet. Pubs that presumably serve normal alcohol. Cars!” she exclaimed. Then she coughed. “Exhaust.”

“Yeah, there’re some things not to miss out here,” Willow agreed, wrinkling her nose. Celia noticed, however, that she looked at the internet café a little wistfully.

“I think I’m going to have to throttle Giles. He could have mentioned we were heading into a tourist trap. Though the change of scenery is a relief.” She looked around, taking it all in, reveling in the Muggleness of it all. “Still culture-shocky though. I mean, there are cars, but they’re driving on the wrong side of the street. Plus, they look like no one’s in the driver’s seat, because, hey, that’s moved, too.”

“It’s not that bad of a tourist trap,” Willow said, then looked at the store they were passing on their right that had a window full of postcards, incense, and tie-dyed shirts. “Mostly.”

“Still, not quite what you expect when someone tells you they’re shipping you off to some mythological place with a gateway to … somewhere or other.”

“Well, maybe that part will be different.”

“It kind of has to be.”

*Are you really ok?* Willow asked.

*More or less.*

*Because you looked kind of destroyed last night, and now you’re kinda normal.*

*And this is a problem because …*

*Because I know you, and you don’t pull out of things that fast.*

*I had my freakout, and I’m over it.*

Willow looked at her sharply, and Celia knew that she wasn’t buying a word of it.

*Fine! I’m not over it. But I’ve got work to do, and if I keep falling apart, I can’t do it. Not to mention the whole thing with convincing people I don’t need to be sheltered or locked in protective custody or whatever.*

*So you’re still freaked.*

They rounded a corner.

*Of course I’m still freaked! I’ve just found out I’m the ill-gotten spawn of a lunatic Dark wizard. Never mind the part where there’re nutjobs out there wanting to resurrect him into my body or some such thing, oh and kill the man I’ve gone and fallen in love with while they’re at it or make it seem like I have to. How could I not be freaked?*

Celia looked up at the street sign in front of them. “We’re supposed to take Silver Street, right?”

Willow nodded.

“Feels like we’re making a u-turn, almost. There should have been a shorter way.”

“Wishing we had a car?”

Celia snorted. “Yeah, you want to try driving on the wrong side of the street? Not me, thanks. I’m pretty out of practice as it is.”

“It’s not that bad, really. The wrong side of the car part is actually harder.”

*So, in love?*

Celia sighed. She hadn’t meant to say that. Or think it that loudly.

*Can we deal with that part later? As in after we finish questing to some fairy-tale place that I didn’t know existed an hour ago and find out more about whatever the hell is going on?*

Willow gave her another one of those sharp looks of hers, shrugged, and didn’t say anything else.

They continued in silence for a bit. Not long after they took the next turn, Celia stopped in her tracks. Willow continued on for a couple of steps before she noticed.

“What is it?”

Celia just pointed at the sign she had spotted across the street, unable to find her voice. After a moment, she remembered she didn’t need it. *Chalice Well? Chalice Well? Is there actually some sort of sacred well here?*

*I don’t know.* Willow’s thought felt as full of consternation as Celia’s own. *I mean, the Grail was some sort of chalice, right? And I think there might have been some kind of spring in Mists of Avalon, but that’s not exactly a historical reference.*

*Didn’t Giles even consider … he could have mentioned … it couldn’t be that simple, could it?*

*Probably not, but let’s go look anyway.*

With that, the two witches crossed the street.

~ ~ ~

Students on brooms zipped this way and that. A Bludger nearly missed the Hufflepuff Seeker, distracting their Keeper at a key moment and allowing a goal for Slytherin. Severus made a note to speak with the Beater who’d hit that Bludger. That was exactly the sort of cunning he wanted to encourage in this crop of Slytherins, far more subtle and effective than Miss Kassar’s elder brother’s tactics had been in his day.

Still, the game held a bare fraction of his attention, and not only because it had no bearing on the Quidditch Cup. Part of him could not help trying to reach out towards the lake and attempting to discern the energy signature Celia had found there, the nascent Hellmouth. How was it that he had been unable to sense it? Still was unable, truly. Was it something that required a blood relationship? She had not, after all, discovered it until she had added her protective spell to the grounds, a spell that had required the use of her blood.

He twisted his lips, remembering her concern that the existing enchantments cast by Salazar Slytherin might react poorly with a spell using her blood. How little had she – or any of them – known.

A speck of gold darted past, followed shortly by both Seekers in hot pursuit. Instinctively, Severus drew back, even though they passed at least two yards away. As he watched, the two players collided and veered apart, both apparently losing sight of the Snitch.

He restrained the urge to sigh. It had only been an hour so far, hardly time enough to be growing impatient already. Still, with their respective records, these teams had hardly been expected to put on such a competitive game, which was currently tied at one hundred and twenty points each.

One hundred and thirty now, with Hufflepuff temporarily in the lead.

It irked him to be stuck here watching a “friendly” holiday Quidditch game as though nothing in the world were different than it had been yesterday. From the students’ perspective, of course, nothing was. Yes, there were still rumors floating around about the rather dramatically misfired spell, but none that came anywhere near the truth. The closest were those who suggested that the spell had been to determine who had invited the first – and the mythical second – vampire onto the grounds, though no rationale for limiting it to the female students had been offered.

There was, however, quite a bit that was different, and it chafed to be left in the position of sitting and waiting. Assuming she learned and possibly gathered the remaining ingredients needed for the potion to remove his and Potter’s ties to the Dark Lord, there would undoubtedly be plenty for him to do once she returned.

He refused to consider the myriad possibilities that might result in her failure to return, though he itched to get back to his quarters and peruse some of the texts that discussed the uses and dangers of the “Avalon” portal.

When Minerva arrived, it was almost a relief to rise and let her take a seat next to him on the uncomfortable bench.

“What have I missed? And good grief, why have you not cast a Cushioning Charm before now?”

“Nothing at all,” he replied. “They are tied at one hundred and forty. Perhaps next time, they should not bother playing the Keepers at all. And I suppose I was hoping for a game short enough to render such measures pointless.”

She snorted. “It’s good to see that some things never change.”

He didn’t bother to dignify that with a response.

After several more goals had been scored, including a penalty shot for something that would require him to speak to the other Slytherin Beater, she added, “After you left, Headmaster Dumbledore’s portrait said something about finding your current situation somewhat poetic.”

Lifting an eyebrow but not taking his eyes off the game, he replied, “I’m sure I don’t know what that means. But then, what can one expect a painting to know of poetry?”

“Don’t be daft,” she retorted.

Of course, he knew exactly what that meant. The old codger would find it “poetic” that Severus had become … romantically involved with the Dark Lord’s daughter. Minerva would perceive this as a typically benign and sentimental observation. Severus could only wonder what sort of poetic justice the portrait anticipated.

A cry went up from the crowd. The Slytherin Seeker was holding the Golden Snitch.

“It seems you have impeccable timing, Headmistress,” he said, rising to leave. “If you will excuse me, I must see to my House’s team.”

“Of course.” As he began to descend the stairs, she added, “Professor Snape, do come see me if you find you have need to speak of any of this.”

He stopped but did not turn, saying, “Thank you, but I do not believe that will be necessary, Headmistress,” before continuing downward.

~ ~ ~

The energy in this place was definitely charged, and not just in the sense of it costing six pounds to get through the gate. Some of the myths the guy at the ticket booth had described sounded pretty far-fetched, but there was definitely something special here.

The first spot they reached was a large pool constructed in the same double-circled symbol as they’d just seen decorating the gate. Apparently it was something of a theme. As Willow looked through the guidebook, Celia tried to determine whether there was anything special about this water, other than the calming sound of it traveling through the flowforms that spilled into the pool. There was still that residual hum of energy. It was nothing like she had grown accustomed to at Hogwarts, but noticeable nonetheless. More natural perhaps.

Her eyes dropped to the underbrush as she prepared to step back, and she noticed a largish hole banked with piles of dirt and old leaves. Her first thought was that she was glad she had not stepped into it before. Her next thought was that something was looking at her out of it. Something with black fur, white stripes, and beady eyes. She forced herself not to jump back.

That's just a little too big to be a skunk!

“What’s wrong?” Willow asked.

“I think I woke something up,” she replied cautiously. She didn’t have tons of experience in dealing with hostile animals without killing them, and it wasn’t the poor badger’s fault she’d almost stepped in his hole. She kept her eyes on it and backed away slowly, prepared to immobilize it magically if it charged. When it didn’t, and she had arrived back on the pathway, she breathed a sigh of relief.

“You good? Shall we keep going?” Willow asked.

“Yeah, sure,” Celia agreed. She looked at the doorway to the next part of the garden. “Will, what does it say about that sword?”

The redhead flipped to the next page in the guidebook. “It’s Excalibur because this next part is called King Arthur’s Courtyard.”

Celia furrowed her brow. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.”

They walked through the gate and found their way to the Pilgrims’ Bath. There were no “pilgrims” there this morning, but a couple of very large ravens appeared to be enjoying the water. They watched the birds bathing for a couple of minutes, but nothing felt particularly significant here. Celia wanted to get closer to the top of the spring before testing the water’s properties. She supposed it wasn’t damaged by all these constructs that had been put in its path, but going to the source seemed like a better idea.

As they continued uphill, their progress was interrupted briefly by a brown snake, remarkably similar to the one still residing in Celia’s greenhouse. It had decided this would be a lovely time to take a leisurely slither across the pathway. Celia watched it bemusedly, wondering why she didn’t just step over it, then shook her head to clear it. It didn’t really take that long to make its short trip over the path and into the ferns on the other side.

The next stop drew her up short. Her knees became weak, and Celia knelt on the cool ground, dumbstruck. Everything that had happened thus far in this garden flashed past her mind’s eye for review, and she knew for a certainty this was, if not the answer, a very large part of it.

“Oh. My. Goddess,” she gasped.

“What’s wrong?” Willow asked, concern evident in her voice and expression.

“I think … I think we need to take as much of this water as we can.”

“Okay, sure. But, um, what’s with the dramatics?”

Celia looked up at her weakly. “Cosmic clue-by-four, I think? I mean, I was hoping for less cryptic, but this is a little unmistakable.”

“Huh?”

“Badger. Ravens. Snake,” she said. “And now this?” She pointed to the Lion’s Head fountain. Willow still just looked confused.

Of course she doesn’t get it. She hasn’t been looking at these things on students’ robes and banners around the Great Hall for months.

*They’re the symbols of the four Houses of Hogwarts, Will. I’m kinda thinking that means something.*

*Oh. Oh!*

“Exactly. I still want to test it though.” She rose from the ground and brought one of the bottles over to the fountain, filling it halfway with the reddish water. She took an experimental sip and grimaced a little at the metallic taste.

“Is it bad?”

“No, just unusual. Keep a lookout?”

Willow nodded, and Celia passed her hand over the bottle, hoping the plastic wouldn’t interfere with her spell. All it showed, however, was mineral-laden water, heavy on the iron. Exactly what it was supposed to be.

“Anything?”

“Not really. Maybe I should try pouring some on Spike to see if it’s really holy?”

Willow smiled, but the moment the words left her mouth, Celia felt as though she had committed some horrible act of sacrilege.

“Yeah, I take that back. There’s definitely something special about it.”

Willow looked speculative as she leaned in with another bottle, took some of the water, and stood to taste it. As Celia watched, Willow swallowed the water, and her hair very briefly flashed pure white.

“You’re right, there is something special about it,” the once again redhead said, then added, “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Your hair,” Celia whispered.

Looking a little panicked, Willow examined a lock of her hair. When she saw that it was its normal color, she asked, “What about it?”

“It flashed white when you drank the water.”

Willow’s eyes opened wide, and she looked at the water in her little plastic bottle with something between fear and awe. “So, pretty special then.”

“I’m thinking yeah.” She paused. “It might be part of it, but I don’t think it’s all of it. Might need time, might need special handling, might need other ingredients, but it needs something. I don’t know how I know, but I know.”

Willow nodded. “Well, let’s fill these anyway. The folks behind us will catch up soon.”

~ ~ ~

Severus poked at the steak and kidney pie on his plate with little interest. The research he had done after returning to his quarters had been unhelpful, to say the least. It was unclear whether there was, in fact, any sort of portal on the Glastonbury Tor, and if there was, where it went. The Watcher had seemed to know more, and Severus hoped he had at least warned the two witches of the apparent temporal dangers that showed up repeatedly in the scant literature.

It was infuriating to be so at a loose end. There was precious little marking to do, as the students had all been assigned large essays to do over the Easter holidays. Not for the first time, he wondered why they bothered, as few if any students went home to attend services with their families. While it was useful not to have to worry about coverage for Herbology classes for at least the next two weeks, and it was to be hoped she would return sooner than that, Severus would have preferred to have more to focus on besides waiting.

There was, at least, tonight’s detention.

What am I going to do with that boy? I suppose I have my answer to what I would have been like had someone decided to teach me how to deal with bullies, though I’d hope I’d have had more sense than to set myself up as a junior instructor of some kind.

No, that was unfair. He most certainly had shown off the more advanced spellwork he’d learned prior to coming to school. Unfortunately, that had endeared him to the wrong people and had galvanized the bullying Marauders.

“Wha’s botherin’ ye?” Hagrid asked. “’S not like ye t’pass on a good steak and kidney pie, Professor.”

Severus grimaced.

“’M sure she’ll be back soon,” the half-giant added in what was no doubt supposed to be a conspiratorial whisper.

Why does Minerva continue to confide in him? While his heart is certainly in the right place, the man has never been able to keep a secret.

Although, upon further reflection, Severus had to admit that he had managed to guard the secret of Celia’s identity, at least the one she knew at the time.

“Actually, Hagrid, I was debating what to do regarding a detention I must oversee tonight,” he admitted.

“No’ Jarvis again!” Hagrid ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m fresh out o’ ideas what t’do with tha’ one.”

Severus contemplated the other man for a moment. He had never had any patience for bullies, had even rescued Severus himself a time or two in his school days. But he’d never had much success actually dissuading said bullies from their ways. Apparently, their skulls were too thick for even so literally heavy-handed a message to penetrate.

Mr. Lightfeather, on the other hand, looked up to Hagrid, to go by various things Celia had said, and apparently helped him with various areas of creature care from time to time.

“Not at all,” Severus said at last. “However, perhaps you could assist me with this student. Lightfeather. He fancies himself smart enough to teach his peers to do things for which few of them are ready and which will almost certainly result in someone being gravely hurt.”

Hagrid grunted.

“Perhaps there is something he could assist you with this evening that would teach him rather more than scrubbing out cauldrons would do?”

Another grunt. “I’ve go’ just th’thing. Hippogriff’s due t’foal t’night. Nothin’ll take ye down a peg like tha’.”

Severus pondered that. “I do not want it to seem a reward, Hagrid.”

Hagrid snorted. “Ye’ve obviously never played midwife t’a Hippogriff.”

“Very well.” Severus nodded. “Thank you.”

“Any time, Professor. Ye know tha’.”

Though he still held some misgivings, Severus felt nearly certain he’d made the right choice. Perhaps he would check in on their detention while making his rounds. In the meantime, now he would have the opportunity to dig out some of those ancient books about the Avalon portal. Perhaps they would give some clue as to the sort of information she would report upon her return, possibly even some suggestion as to things she might bring back to utilize in this mysterious Potion to which the demon had referred.

Appetite renewed, he cast a Warming Charm on his dinner and began to eat.

~ ~ ~

Carefully, Celia moved brush away from the egg-shaped stone. She looked around and saw that miraculously they appeared to be alone.

“You sure that’s it?” Willow asked, glancing down at the sketch Giles had given them. “I mean, it looks like it, but so did the last two.”

“Won’t know until we try.” Celia pressed her hand gently against the warm stone surface, and it phased gently through it. She pulled her hand back quickly. “I’m thinking yeah.” She looked back at Willow. “You ready for this?”

“Heh, I’m not the one walking through a rock into …”

“Avalon. Right. Whatever that actually means.” Celia closed her eyes for a moment. This spot was just rippling with power on a scale rivaled by Hogwarts, though of a completely different quality. Of course, the whole hill was, and that hadn’t exactly helped with finding this portal. “Will, there’s so much magic here. How can anyone not feel it?”

“I know.” The redhead was unwinding the end of a roll of silk thread. “Kinda scary, huh?”

“You could say that.” Celia accepted the end of the thread and tied it around the little finger of her right hand. “I really hope this works, Will. If I end up coming back in a century or two, then it’s all kind of pointless.”

“It’ll work.” Willow set her mouth into a firm line. “Giles was positive this would anchor you to our timeline. Besides, we don’t even know that time really runs differently there. Could just be a legend.”

Like walking into a hillside into “Avalon” isn’t?

“You going to be okay out here?” Celia asked aloud.

Willow looked around. “Yeah, I think so. There’s probably too much magic here for them to find you, even if they’ve even realized you left the school. And if they do? Well, then, they’ll just be sorry they came looking.”

Well, yeah, they probably would be. Reason number eight hundred and sixty-two why I’m positive it’s no coincidence the First wanted her off this island when she left, and not just to cut short her training.

“Here goes then,” Willow said, extending her hand over the thread that now ran from a loop around her own little finger to Celia’s. “Rectus alio, rectus locus, rectus vicis.”

The silk thread glowed golden for a moment, then returned to its natural hue.

“See you soon. If I’m gone more than thirty-six hours, send a Patronus like we talked about.”

Willow nodded. Celia squared her shoulders, turned to face the egg-stone, and stepped resolutely through.

Looking around her carefully, Celia saw much the same scene as she had just left: a grassy, terraced hill. Below her, however, there were far fewer houses and no paved roads. She checked the silk thread, which was still securely attached to her finger. When she pulled on it, she could feel the tension that told her it was still attached to Willow on the other end, but it stretched so that she could move freely.

Where was she supposed to go? To the top of the hill, she supposed, but the path ended at this point. With a shrug, she started up the incline and scrambled the rest of the way to the top, where there was no lone tower, nor the rest of the church to which it had once been attached. Had she gone back in time, then? Was that the real story behind the tales of people coming back decades later than then entered?

She turned in a complete circle. The view was spectacular, but she felt no pull to leave the spot where she stood, and that was one thing that Giles had been absolutely clear about: if she needed to go somewhere, either she’d be drawn to do so or some sort of guide would show up to lead her. So she stayed where she was and looked in various different directions, hoping for inspiration of some kind.

After awhile, she decided maybe sitting down was a reasonable option. Nothing could really sneak up behind her here, considering the complete lack of cover.

Aren’t there supposed to be fairies? Or possibly priestesses of some kind?

She wondered if she ought to give up on the guidance or inspiration thing and just go see what that Red Spring looked like from here. Perhaps that was the whole answer, after all?

Plus, water? A very good idea right about now.

“Do you have any idea what happens when you destroy most of a person’s soul?”

Celia jumped to her feet and spun, searching for the source of the voice. No one. Nothing.

“Who’s there?” she demanded.

A ray of light seemed to shimmer right in front of her, and she took a step back from it as it resolved slowly into a surprisingly familiar shape. Celia gasped, her surprise rapidly turning to anger.

“You? You’re the one I’ve been dreaming about all this time?”

The woman nodded.

Celia put her hands on her hips and glared at the apparition.

“You’ve got some serious explaining to do, Mrs. Potter!”

---

A/N: If you’re curious about Chalice Well and Glastonbury Tor, which are real places with various myths and legends associated with them, check out http://www.chalicewell.org.uk/home.html and http://www.glastonburytor.org.uk/mysterytor.html .