It\'s All Done With Mirrors

A/N: A bit of research was needed for this chapter, and thanks must go to my good friends Proudfeather and Sina Wakon Wiy for your honest criticism, which I desperately needed in order to say what I wanted without offending anyone. Bless you both.

SHOUTING OUT: Talene! ginnylover! LustyMuse! Mel! Tesa! Pixi! LittleBird! Lizski! spaz! mags! jeanette! elementaldeity! Rilla! SiriusStarHolder! deblovesdragon! And not forgetting Aiobheann! Your reviews and comments are manna to my insomniacal ! Bl! Bless you for continuing to read and review my contorted codswallop! Love and light to all my readers. Much love, Kait xxx


Chapter Thirty Four
Divination


Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts, August 2010


“…and the light is golden, but it’s surrounded by thorns. Last night I got really close to the light, but all of a sudden the thorny hedge seemed to grow higher. It tried to claw at me when I went near to it,” said Robin, as he gazed into the tall Auror’s luminous eyes.

Luna nodded. “And you’ve been having this dream for…how long?” she asked, noting with interest the black hair and aquiline nose identical to that of Professor Snape, combined with the lips and eyes which were so obviously from his mother.

“Ever since I can remember, Auror Lovegood. But it’s developed a lot…first of all there was just this beautiful light, but it was ever so far away. Now it’s nearer, but surrounded by thorns,” Robin answered, politely. “Is this the dream that you walked into?”

“No, Robin,” replied Luna, her brow furrowing. “But it’s definitely an interesting dream. And an important one, because it’s a recurring and developing dream. But I will go back to that. First of all, can you remember any other dreams you had last night?”

Robin nodded, thinking deeply. “The one that Profess – Dad, I mean, woke me up from with a spell…I was dreaming about a man coming to get Mum, to hurt her. He had a cloak on…that’s all I remember.”

“And you woke from this dream…do you find that you only remember dreams you wake up from?” Auror Lovegood was searching his face, her previous dreaminess completely gone.

“I only remember them if I wake up,” the boy replied.

Auror Lovegood leaned back, considering the thought that was running through her mind. It wasn’t strictly illegal…but she’d need parental consent…

But she’d already had parental consent to work with Robin, and no one had laid any actual restrictions on her methods…so perhaps all she would need to do is ask Albus.

As if he’d read her mind, the former Headmaster of Hogwarts knocked three times and entered.

“Albus, I’m in a bit of a quandary. The dream I entered, Robin has no recollection of, as he didn’t wake. Should I bring out the Dreamcatcher?”

Albus Dumbledore shot a sharp look at Luna. She seemed to be troubled, and the old Wizard could see why. Wizard Dreamcatchers, unlike their Muggle namesakes, were restricted and could only be used under license. Auror Lovegood was qualified to use, and instruct in the use of, a Dreamcatcher, but strictly speaking, like pensieves, they were only to be used by Wizards and Witches of 17 years or more.

“Exceptions to the regulations have been made before, Luna, because of certain by-laws pertaining to both pensieves and Dreamcatchers. I know, because I have written many of them myself. Robin, you are blushing, Is there anything you wish to tell me?” Dumbledore asked the boy, his sharp eyes noting the discomfort on his face.

Robin squirmed, and looked at the table. “Ivgtapnsvt’hmprfessrdmbldr,” he muttered.

“I beg your pardon, Mr. Granger-Snape?” Albus said in his mildest tone.

“I’ve got a pensieve…at home, Professor Dumbledore,” he repeated, a lot more clearly the second time.

Albus nodded. “I thought that was what you had said. I’m surprised Miss Brown allowed it. Or perhaps, young Robin…she is unaware of its presence?”

Robin started to rip the edge of a piece of parchment in front of him into small pieces.

“Perhaps, if I agree not to tell your parents about your pensieve, Robin, you would indulge me in not alerting the Ministry of Magic should you allow Auror Lovegood to use her Dreamcatcher?” Dumbledore’s voice was very soft, and Robin, relieved at being let off the hook, nodded fervently.

“Then, Luna, if you believe that this will help our cause you may proceed with your operation. Luncheon is in exactly one hour, and can be served here, if you wish, or, if your preference is for company, we should love to receive both of you in the Great Hall. I believe there is Lemon Meringue Pie for dessert,” Albus said rather wistfully, winking at Robin.

Then he was gone, and when Robin’s gaze returned to the table, his eyes opened wide with amazement at the structure which lay between Auror Lovegood and himself.


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Potions Laboratory, Hogwarts, August 2010


Ron sucked in his breath as the tall figure of the Potions Master entered the Laboratory and swept through, raising a cloud of sparkling particles with the tail of his robes.

He watched, as Snape opened his private store cupboard and walked in, then came out again. The bastard was whistling a tune! It sounded like one of those Muggle Jazz tunes Hermy was always humming. What was it? Something about a…whoopee…making a whoopee? Ron fingered the sheath of his knife, and his fingers itched. He’d just…love…to leap up from behind the workbench he was using to hide himself and leap upon Professor SNAKE, with his shining steel blade before him…

But no. Pansy was right. There was no point in silly machismo and unnecessary heroics. Snape could disarm him in a second, whether he was brandishing a wand or a knife…or a rubber duck for that matter. Whatever one of those was.

Ron observed Snape quietly as the tall, lean Wizard walked over to the blackboard. Was he going to write out the ingredients list for a Potion?

Apparently not. Snape waved his wand at the blackboard, but he was not enchanting the chalk. He was speaking a password.

Craning his neck, Ron could read Snape’s lips perfectly as he muttered “Boomslang Skin.”

Perfect, breathed Ron, as he tried not to sneeze from the dust, which covered the unused corner in which he was hiding. He felt odd, suddenly. He raised a hand to bring it to his sweating brow, and he nearly let out an audible groan as he realised the Polyjuice had worn off. His hand was large, pand fnd freckly again. He slipped it into his overall pocket, and brought out a new phial, the goblet, the stirring rod and another tuft of Nathan’s frizzy, mousy hair.

Revolted, he quickly mixed and drank the clotted brew.


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Slytherin Student Quarters, Hogwarts, August 2010


I tried to keep a straight face, as the unsavoury-looking portrait of a half-man, half-serpent shot me a pained look. “Passsssssword?” it hissed, a forked tonprotprotruding from the human lips and flickering rudely at me for a second before disappearing. “Sal – hahahaa! Sorry! Salazar’s Scrotum!” I sniggered, and it rolled red eyes at me, completely disgusted, before swinging open.

Before entering, I sang out: “Put your clothes on!”

And it was just as well. There was a squeal, and a groan, and I discerned Lavender trilling “Juuuuust a Minute!” over the growling voice of Draco, who was using language I wouldn’t dare to repeat.

A few moments later, Draco came over to the doorway, against which I leaned, my eyelids screwed shut, convulsed with laughter.

“What. The fuck. Do you want?” He snarled, obviously struggling for control.

I opened my eyes, and winked at him. “What are you offering, Mr. Peeping Tom?” I inquired, looking him up and down pointedly.

He had enough of a conscience to blush, apparently. “I’d like a word with Lavender,” I giggled, sparing him any further torment. Draco raised one expressive eyebrow. ‘I wonder if he plucks,’ I thought absently.

“And I thought you were just after my body, Granger,” he drawled. ‘Gods, that boy recovers quickly,’ I mused with awe. “Lavender!” he practically yelled, making me jump.

“You’d better come in, Granger,” he said, still none too pleased with me for interrupting his lovemaking.

“So we’re back to last names again are we, Malfoy?” I shot back.

He sighed. “Get in, and I’ll put the bloody kettle on…Hermione,” he muttered.

I walked in to find Lavender hurriedly throwing the couch cushions back in place. I lost no time in fixing her with my best no-nonsense-from-you stare. “Sorry to disturb, Lavender,” I said, rather briskly, “but I just thought you ought to know…Robin’s going to stay with Severus and I from now on, so at some point we\'ll need all his things delivered to the Potion Master’s suite.”

Lavender looked rather dismayed, and I suddenly felt a little sorry for her.

“Um, Lavender…thanks for looking after him,” I mumbled. She turned her back e, fe, facing the fireplace, and I wondered if I should just leave Slytherin there and then.But But after a moment or two, she faced me again, and her eyes were shining with emotion.

“It was a pleasure, ‘Mione,” was all she could manage, before she burst into tears. I made a hesitant move towards her, but she waved me away.

“I hope you’re all very happy together, ‘Mione…you and Professor Snape…and Robin. Just don’t expect me to be all over you for a while, OK? It’s hard to lose someone like Robin, as I’m sure you know. Look,” she said, as I tried to say something, “it’s nothing personal…just, you know…not very logical really…all this emotional stuff…I’ll get over it.”

And with that, she wiped her eyes on her sleeve, and hed ied into one of the dormitories.

“She will get over it, Hermione,” Draco said, a little shakily. I nodded.

“I’m sorry, Draco…I was a bit abrupt wasn’t I? I suppose I’m still feeling sore about all this subterfuge…and I took it out on Lavender, who didn’t do anything wrong…just took in an abandoned child. The one that I abandoned…”

Draco crossed the Common Room towards me, and took my hand in his. “Tact was never listed as a Gryffindor trait, was it?” he said, softly.

“I suppose not. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t think before I open my big fat mouth though, does it?” I replied, ruefully.

“You said it, Hermione,” he drawled. “Don’t worry about Lavender…I’ll pass on your apologies. Shall we see you at Lunch?”

I bit my lip, thinking. “I’ve got stuff to unpack, not much, but – how far off is Lunch, anyway?”

“About three-quarters of an hour, give or take a few,” he replied.

“Then don’t save me a seat, Draco.”

“Where’s my godson?” Draco asked, and I pointedoughough the west wall, in the general direction of Minerva’s office.

“Robin’s in the Head’s room, talking dreams with Loony Lovegood,” I answered, rolling my eyes. “I expect he’ll be at Lunch, though. As will Severus, so you can wipe that smirk off your face before I do it for you, Lord Malfoy,” I lilted, the corners of my mouth trembling slightly.

He started giggling, and so did I. “Out of my Rooms, Gryffindor! Out! OUT, NOW!” he shrieked, inysteysterical parody of fury, and I took to my heels, laughing too, and whirled away down the hall, back towards my new home.


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Headmistress’s Office, Hogwarts, August 2010


No one knew exactly when Wizards had adopted the sacred theme of the Dreamcatcher from the Ojibwe tribe, in what was now known as America. But they had developed it in their own ways, and the two items, Magical and Muggle (although it would not be wise to think that the Ojibwe were in any way non-magical, Auror Lovegood had said, her face serious) had become rather more different in function.

“Hold this thread, Robin, and say your full name,” Luna instructed, her voice dreamy, pointing to a vivid blue strand among the coloured threads of the web.

“My…given name…or my…should I say Chapeau or Granger-Snape?” Robin wanted to get this absolutely right.

“Use the name you are happiest with, that you hold most importance to…that you feel represents you,” Luna replied.

Robin thought about this for a moment, biting his lip in concentration. Then he took the blue thread in his wand hand, and spoke confidently. “Robin Granger-Snape.”

Luna picked up a yellow thread on the other side of the Dreamcatcher. “Auror Luna Lovegood, weaver of Dreams, walking the boy Robin Granger-Snape through the web, that we may discover the warp and the weft.”

A blue smoke began to pour, like vivid chalkdust, from the strand Robin was hog. Tg. The same thinppenppened to the yellow strand, and Robin watched in awe as the two colours started to weave among the various threads of the web, joining in the centre, mixing, turning varying shades of green, and flowing back towards the edges of the Dreamcatcher.

Now take the red strand in the middle here with your other hand, Robin Granger-Snape,” intoned Luna, her voice more powerful than he had heard it before, “and speak these words: ‘I walk back and weave these threads and I now see the Dream which eludes me.”

Robin, his face a mask of concentration, nervously did as she instructed.

Immediately, the red dust shimmered all over the web of the Dreamcatcher, darting over and under the separate strands, blending patches of colour, adding purples, browns, mauves, pinks, and a million shades of red to the image which was forming.

Hardly daring to breathe, for fear of disturbing the dust, Robin watched as the detail sharpened and became three-dimensional.

(The man had a knife. His hair was red. No, brown. No. It was red.)

Robin screamed, and the picture vanished. He looked up at Luna in horror.

“I’m so sorry, Auror Lovegood! I messed it up…oh Merlin’s beard, I’m so sorry!”

Luna placed her cool hand over the boy’s hot and damp one.

“It’s quite all right, Robin Granger-Snape,” she whispered, “you did that exactly right. Well done.”

She reached over and pushed the hair away from his pale forehead. “I think we had better find Professor Dumbledore.”