#7 ~ The Ghost and Lady Snape

Disclaimer: All characters belong to JKR (except Marcus Delaluci). All situations are mine. No $$$ is being made from this fanfic.
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Chapter 9 ~ An Uneasy Peace

Albus sat at his desk and listened patiently to the small, oddly dressed little man bobbing in the air just above the comfortable armchair. His eyes were sober behind his half-moon glasses, as Peeves told him about his encounter with the spirit named Alistar.

“Then sir, he says that I have a choice to help him or to be destroyed. I don’t know what his work is, sir, but I knows he is very evil. I says no way, and he must leave Hogwarts. He says no, I will not go, so we have a terrible battle sir, a terrible battle. I did my best sir, but he overpowered me. I only just got away, and came direct to you, sir.”

Albus looked at the poltergeist, who didn’t look any worse for wear despite his “terrible battle”. He knew Peeves had embellished the story simply because whenever Peeves expelled any power, Dumbledore always felt it. If the poltergeist had been in a battle, it would have registered powerfully with the Headmaster. Now, Albus did feel Peeves earlier, but it was a distinct weakening of power. Probably the spirit had attacked him. Yes, this was more likely. Albus unfolded his hands and let them fall idly to the top of his desk as he looked at Peeves.

“I appreciate your supreme and courageous efforts to protect Hogwarts, Peeves,” he said, deciding to let the poltergeist’s embellished portion of the story go, “You said he called himself ‘Alistar’, correct?”

“Yes sir,” the poltergeist replied, still preening under the Headmaster’s praise.

Behind them, Fawkes let out a worried trill. Albus turned and looked at the Phoenix, whose eyes were whirling apprehensively in their sockets.

“Yes, I know Fawkes, I know,” Albus said soothingly to the bird, “if this is the spirit of the Alistar of old, then our muggle-borns are in great danger. Especially the witches. Muggle-born witches were always the main targets of his twisted work. If this is his ghost, then in all probability it is as sick, twisted, hateful and powerful in death as he was in life.

The Headmaster turned to Peeves.

“Peeves, we may be needing your courage again very soon. If this spirit is who I think it is, we will have to battle it on its own ground, in its own space. You may be needed to guide us to him,” Albus said, looking at the poltergeist somberly.

Peeves blanched. The last thing he wanted to do was encounter Alistar again. He was more afraid of him than the Bloody Baron. But he had stuck his foot in it with his big, lying mouth. He couldn’t turn down the Headmaster’s request. It just wasn’t done. Like any other supernatural being at Hogwarts, when it came down to it, he was bound to serve and protect the castle.

“Yes sir,” the poltergeist replied sullenly.

Then you may return to the castle,” Albus said, “I will summon you when you are needed.”

The poltergeist hesitated.

“Is something wrong, Peeves?” the Headmaster asked the little man, looking over his glasses at him.

“Sir, I was wondering if I might hang about a while. I wouldn’t make a peep, sir. And I’d be right here when you needed me, sir,” Peeves said in an almost desperate voice. He didn’t want to be anywhere Alistar might find him. Albus looked at him and smiled.

“You are welcome to stay with me as long as you like, Peeves. If you look just above my bookcase, you will find a nice little niche that you can relax in during your stay,” he said, gesturing toward the shelf.

Peeves visibly deflated with relief.

“Thank you, Headmaster,” the poltergeist said, floating up to the bookshelf and inspecting the niche.

Then the Headmaster looked at him sternly, “But you must desist from your usual pranks and activities during your stay here. I cannot have my office turned into a shambles. If the students’ energies rise too high, you have to go out into the castle to expend it, understood? Not in here.”

The poltergeist nodded, “Yes sir,” Peeves said as he settled into the niche and closed his eyes.

“Very well. Rest, Peeves. I believe you will need it,” Albus said, drawing some parchments closer to him. He picked up his quill and started to write. Then he paused.

“Alister,” he mused, “I always wondered what happened to him.”

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Marcus ran down the dungeons hallway at a good clip, putting distance between himself and the presence in the main hall. He almost overshot the Potion’s office, and skidded to a halt. He took a moment to compose himself, breathing deeply. He was about to knock, when the door opened.

Severus stood in the doorway, somewhat imperiously. His dark eyes met Marcus’ violet ones, then swept over him. He stepped back.

“Come in, Mr. Delaluci. We are in the Spells lab,” he said.

Marcus walked past him, warily. He stopped just inside the Potions office, looking around at the hideous collection of pickled whatevers that filled the jars that lined the walls.

“Nice décor,” he muttered as Severus swept past him.

“Follow me, Mr. Delaluci,” he said, walking through the door that led to the Spells lab. Marcus did. He entered behind Severus and looked around the lab. It was typical. Books, vials, beakers, and various equipment lined the walls. A large counter took up the middle of the floor. There was a desk in the corner of the room.

Three stools were set against the counter. On the farthest stool on the left sat Lady Snape. She was dressed in her staff robes. Marcus noticed deep circles under the witch’s eyes, and she looked rather weak and pale. She looked at him resignedly.

“Hello Marcus,” she said. There wasn’t the venom in her voice that he’d expected. She sounded tired, like someone who had been through a battle.

“Lady Snape,” he replied, nodding. On the counter in front of her was a open book. Marcus walked over to the counter, looked at her and said, “May I?” gesturing at the open tome. Hermione nodded. Marcus looked at the cover.

“My Love, Her Blood, eh? Sounds like a romance novel for vampires. What is this?” he asked, turning the book over in his hands and taking the stool next to Hermione.

“It’s a journal I found in the Restricted Section of the library, behind some other tombs. Well, a copy of the journal. I lost the original trying to date it yesterday. That is what I was doing in the lab during lunch. I made that duplicate just before I attempted dating it.”

Severus walked over and sat on the stool next to Marcus. He didn’t say anything. Just listened to his wife and Marcus.

Marcus began to leaf through the book.

“What was the original book like?” he asked, “how was it bound? Like this one?”

“No,” said Hermione a little hesitantly, “It was bound in leather made of human flesh, and the contents written in blood.”

Marcus stared at her for a moment.

“And er…you didn’t find that a little strange…a little creepy?” he asked. He wanted to really ask her if she had been out of her fucking mind removing a book like that from the restricted section, but he held his tongue. This was a delicate situation that could easily end up in a big brawl.

“I didn’t realize it at first. I knew the binding was very soft, but it was Severus who identified what it was made of after I brought it to the rooms to show him.”

Marcus looked at Severus, who merely shrugged.

“Didn’t either of you realize that this book was the product of Dark Magic?” Marcus asked evenly.

“I’ve handled plenty of books created by dark magic in the library,” Hermione said defensively, “they don’t explode.”

Marcus looked at her and bit his tongue. He turned to Severus.

“Surely you knew this book was potentially dangerous, Snape,” he said the the Potions Master rather accusingly. Severus was not about to admit that he ignored his reservations about the book in order to get a little nookie from his wife.

“The book, though created by dark magic, didn’t appear to be dangerous,” he replied lamely.

Marcus eyed him, knowing that he must have kowtowed to his wife in this matter. He shook his head.

“Ok, you were both idiots in handling this. Nothing can be done about that now,” he commented, opening the book and setting it on the counter. Severus bristled dangerously, but said nothing. The blonde wizard was right. He should have made Hermione take the book back. Hermione frowned. She didn’t like being called an idiot. The book was an important find. She wanted to study it. Nothing was wrong with that. Well, she had thought that at the time. She was still shaken. Something had sexually attacked her, something she couldn’t touch or stop. Something that had almost killed her husband. If Marcus could help them sort this out…she’d take a few insults.

“Hermione, tell me exactly what you did, when you found this book. Exactly. Action for action,” Marcus said, his violet eyes staring into her amber ones. Severus leaned forward, anxious to hear this.”

“Well, when I found it, I took it to the library table and leafed through it. I saw a lot of poems, some journal entries, a lot of references to “my beloved” that I assumed was about a woman. There were no incantations. I read one of the poems, the first one and the first journal entry, then I brought the book back to my rooms and showed it to Severus,” she recounted.

“Stop. You read a poem and journal entry. Show me the poem,” Marcus said, pushing the book toward her. Hermione rifled through the pages, stopped, and pointed at a passage. Marcus read the poem, then looked at her intensely.

“How did you read this poem?” he asked, his voice low.

Hermione looked confused. “How did I read it? I just…read it,” she replied, looking up at Marcus.

“No, I mean did you read it to yourself or out loud?” he explained.

Hermione considered. “Well I was translating it as I read it, so I read it out loud.”

Marcus slammed the book shut and jumped off his stool. “I thought you were supposed to be intelligent! Are you crazy? Reading a book of dark magic out loud? Hermione, you let something loose out of here. Did you even absorb the message of what you read? Gods, woman. Shit!”

Severus glowered at the wizard for the way he addressed his wife, but held his tongue. It really was foolish what she’d done in her excitement. Marcus opened the book again and pointed to the poem.

“Write that down in English for me,” he directed. Hermione went to her desk and retrieved a piece of parchment and a quill. She returned to her stool, looked at the book, wrote a few lines down, and handed the parchment to Marcus. Severus, still quiet and observing the conversation between his wife and the Eradicator, looked at the parchment, reading the words. He blanched at the same time Marcus did. Severus looked at his wife, scowling.

“Hermione, why didn’t you tell me you read out loud from this book?” he asked her, his dark eyes angry.

She shrugged. “I didn’t think about it,” she said. Nothing happened when I did it. Then she hesitated slightly. Marcus noticed immediately. He was trained in interrogation after all.

“Something did happen. Tell us,” he said, pressing her.

“Well, I got a feeling. More like a cold chill, like an icy finger ran across my shoulders. I had to put on my cloak.”

“Shit,” Marcus said again. Severus sat back, his arms folded, his face masked. So today wasn’t the first time she’d been touched. She didn’t recognize it for what it was.

“Did that feeling ever happen again? The icy finger?” he asked her.

“When I got undressed for bed, I felt a chill again, but this time across my belly,” she admitted, “but I didn’t think about it. Could have been some kind of spasm or something. I certainly didn’t put the two together.”

“What about the temperature of the bedroom? Did it get cold?” Marcus asked.

“Not at that point, but when I returned to get the book after breakfast the next morning, the bedroom was noticeably colder. I reported it to Filch.”

Marcus stared at her for a moment or two. How could someone so brilliant be so damned stupid? Snape had his hands full with this one. All the twisted sex in the world couldn’t make Marcus put up with this. He sighed, looked at the parchment and read the words out loud. They didn’t hold any more danger…whatever power they contained had already been released, thanks to Hermione.

In the swollen night,
from the bloodied space,
she voiced his flesh,
and he sought her face.


He looked at Hermione.

“Ok, let me test that brain of yours, Lady Snape. What does this poem mean in relation to what we’ve just learned? Interpret the poem.”

Hermione mouthed the words silently a few times, then her eyes widened.

“Oh my gods,” she whispered, “I thought it was a love poem. It’s an incantation. The bloodied space is the pages of the book, the voicing of his flesh, is the reading from the book bound in his skin, and the seeking of her face…” She blanched, her eyes filling.

“He’s after me,” she said weakly. “that’s why today he…”

Hermione burst into tears. Severus quickly rose from his stool and walked over to her, wrapping her in his arms as she cried. Marcus looked at both of them, his face curious. He met Severus’ eyes in silent question. Severus sighed. He had to tell him.

“My wife was intimately attacked today by a supernatural force. Your note helped me get to her in time to witness the attack. I tried to fight it off, but couldn’t touch it in anyway. It continued to attack Hermione. Finally I broke the connection with my body over hers, and we drove it away, but not before it almost killed me.”

Marcus absorbed this. He had an idea how the spirit had attacked Lady Snape. He shook his head. How fucked up was that. He looked at the sobbing witch and for the first time, felt sorry for her. Silly chit. He looked at Severus.

“How did you drive it away?” he asked.

“We don’t know,” Severus admitted. “Hermione was beating my chest, screaming. It had a grip on my heart. I could feel its hands inside me and a powerful hatred and lust. Suddenly it just let me go.”

Marcus considered this. They had been through a lot today. Sexual Assault. Attempted Murder. No wonder they knuckled under and contacted him.

“If I may ask, Mr. Delaluci, how did you come to know my wife was in danger?” Severus asked him, still cradling Hermione.

“I had another episode like I did in the Great Hall. It wasn’t as painful as the first, but painful still. I saw her face. She looked terrified. So I got a message out to you.”

Severus looked at him levelly. “I thank you for that, Mr. Delaluci,” he said sincerely, looking down at his wife.

“The git really does love her,” Marcus thought to himself, as he watched the Potions Master. This was the first sign of real affection Marcus had seen. Wild sex and love. Must not be too bad.

Severus looked back at him.

“Mr. Delaluci, obviously you have the ability to sense this evil when it is at its worst. My wife is under attack. It would be in your best interest to help us, since sensing this creature causes you pain.”

Snape was asking for his help in protecting his wife in a roundabout way. Marcus didn’t reply, but listened. He wondered if he could get the Potions Master to say “pretty please.” Severus continued.

“We were reading the journal, Mr. Delaluci, and it is the contents of that journal that convinced me that you are someone who can help deal with this creature. You are, after all…connected to it.”

“What?” Marcus responded, “connected how?”

Severus released Hermione, who was all cried out and sitting staring at her hands in her lap. Severus picked up the book and leafed through the pages. Finding what he was looking for, he passed the book to Marcus.

“Read,” he said shortly.

Marcus read the passage.

Salazar has banished all of the dragons but one to the mountains and has taught me the spell. He says I am most talented He has been wounded in the last battle.. When the dragon comes for the virgin tomorrow I will battle it, and send it away.

So, the spirit in life had battled dragons. That could explain why Marcus was aware of it. He continued reading.

I have banished the last dragon. He scored me with fire and I struck him with Salazar’s blade. I have saved his blood to mix in a potion and drink to give me power, it is dark magic but power is all. He is gone to the distant mountains, but he took the virgin. I could not save her. Her name was Fiona Delaluci. She was going to be a healer. I will always remember her eyes. She had no fear in them.

Marcus put the book down, stunned. This spirit had fought and defeated his ancestor. He had also drank the dragon’s blood. Maybe that was why he was so aware of his own blood moving in his veins. His blood recognized the blood of his ancestor’s enemy. And the woman, Fiona Delaluci had been a healer. Did she heal the dragon from the wound caused by Salazar’s sword and secure its love? It made sense. Even a dragon wouldn’t eat someone who saved its life. He felt a pulse of pride that Fiona had shown no fear. A thought occurred to him. He could avenge his ancestor. Marcus was the last of his line, unless he created a heir, which he had no interest in doing But this, this would be a noble and satisfyingly dangerous deed. His eyes telescoped. He looked at Severus.

“What else is in here?” he asked, flipped the pages.

“We’ve marked the important entries. Simply flip through the pages and they will glow.” Severus replied. The spirit’s name is Alistar Zamboni. He was a Slytherin, taught by Salazar himself. No doubt you will find the next entries interesting.

Marcus flipped through the pages until he came to a highlighted passage.

Salazar has left Hogwarts forever. The others have turned against him and begun to accept the children of muggles, our murderous enemies into Hogwarts. He will not accept the dirtybloods into Slytherin house. The others are fools, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff. The muggle-borns will betray the purebloods. Salazar has left a guardian that will rise up and cleanse Hogwarts of them all one day. I will not accept the dirtybloods but I will steal their strength where I can. There is power in their blood. Especially females, those of childbearing age. It will make me stronger.

Marcus absorbed this. Alistar was a follower of Salazar Slytherin. From this entry a rather rabid and twisted one. Into the blood of muggle-born women. Man, this didn’t look good at all. There were many muggle-born young women in Hogwarts. He cut his eyes over to Hermione. In her case it was a double-whammy. Alistar was already after her because she awakened him. sort of like the evil genie who kills the one who releases it, instead of granting wishes, plus she is a muggle-born, so most likely he wants her blood too. He shook his head and leafed through the book until he reached another highlighted passage.

I have developed an illness, a taste for dirtyblood females. It is my deepest shame that I lust after them, wallow with them like pigs in the mud. They are taboo. Indecent. Harlots. Dirty, filthy…Mudbloods. It is my delight to kill them and transform their essence to vials of blood. It is my revenge for their seductiveness. Recompense for their theft of my love.

Wow. So that’s how the name mudblood began. Alistar describing sex with muggle-borns to like rolling around with pigs in the mud. Shit. Well at least he understood why the title of the book was “My Love, Her Blood.” This sick bastard was fucking and killing muggle-born witches of child-bearing age, seeking to end their generations. What was he doing with the vials? Probably the same thing he did with the dragon’s blood. Mixing potions and drinking them. Following this passage was a long list of his victim’s names:

Vedetta Oswort
Syndria Canvassa
Medira Longtooth
Ureya Dirkstun
Betheda Vulcrum
Shariaz Bumslang
Crucia Dumbledane…

Over two hundred names of murdered witches were listed. He referred to them collectively as “My beloved”. Next to each name was a date and the way they died. He murdered each one after fucking them. Sick, sick bastard. He probably used magic to seduce them, unless he used sex as a form of torture. The passage clearly showed he reviled himself for being attracted to them. That he thought the women indecent and unworthy. He was a real piece of work in life, now he was floating around in Hogwarts with the same twisted goals. Shit. Marcus read the last highlighted passage.

They have discovered my vials and hunt for me. They aren’t worthy to kill me. Mudblood lovers. But my power is great. They shall not have me. My life is my own to take. I shall bind my flesh and the power of the blood in this testament. At my death I shall transform and be beyond them. I will sleep. Someone worthy and of power will wake me. Someone will come and I will draw them to me, and then continue my great work.

Remember, keep the blood pure,

Alistar Zamboni ~ A True Follower of Salazar

Well, it was a wrap. This Alistar Zamboni was such a zealot, he killed himself and transformed his body into a book. He had always intended to come back as a ghost. He had written he would draw someone to him then continue his work. The book probably had a spell on it, that drew someone of great magical skill to it, and induce the finder to read from it. It might not have been Hermione’s fault. She may have been chosen.

Marcus closed the book and looked at both Severus and Hermione.

“Well, I’m in,” he said. “I owe him one for my ancestor, as well as for making my life miserable with just his twisted presence.”

Marcus paused then decided honesty would be the best policy here.

“Helping you two is just a by-product of this situation. I would no sooner help you two then cut off my own wang. But looks like we will have to work together on this one, or your little wifey there might find out what it’s like to be impaled on a Popsicle from the past, and I’ll be looking for another job because Hogwarts would be closed due to muggle-born deaths. The only good thing I can see about the situation is that Alistar will go for Hermione first. She has something he wants. Power, pussy and blood, not necessarily in that order. After he gets to her, he’ll start his shit again.”

Marcus looked at Hermione.

“I can guess what you did in your lab. You put that book in a containment field and tried to date it. But the thing was, Alistar wasn’t in the book. He was probably floating around drawing off your power and got a big dose of it while you were casting the spell. When that book arrived at its time of creation, Alistar’s spirit wasn’t contained in it. Most likely both books disappeared because his spiritual absence from the one sent back caused a paradox. It was like a positive and a negative coming toward and canceling each other out. But he was beyond the reach of the cancellation. You probably got hit by a blast of the dark magic that was released by the cancellation, it was spiritual, so the containment sphere couldn’t have held it. And then Alistar reclaimed it from you. He was inside you when you went to the infirmary. That’s why your core was so cold. I felt him leave you after Severus put you in bed. Then later, he came back to get some more power from you, possibly drain you of your own power. He would most likely use emotion to draw from you. Fear. You aren’t evil, like your husband.”

“Severus is NOT evil,” Hermione said defensively. The two wizards looked at each other, both knowing that once evil is in the soul it can never be fully removed, only contained, overpowered by good. As good as he was now, Severus would always have the soul of a deatheater, and Marcus would forever be an Eradictor, no matter how much good he’d do. Which was likely very little unless it served his interests. Marcus looked at Hermione.

“Whatever,” he said shortly, “That thing grabbed Snape because it could. It can touch evil or darkness. It was draining his life force because it had a physical hold on him. The only reason I can think of that your husband isn’t dead is because Alistar felt your love for him. Not in a kind way, but a painful one. It forced him to let him go and flee.

“So you’re telling me, that the way to beat this thing is with love?” she asked the blonde wizard.

“Probably. That and going to where he is. Spiritually, that is. Level the battlefield. As it is right now, he can touch us but we can’t touch him. We’re going to have to enter a state where we can connect with him. The best defense is a good offense.”

Severus’ eyes widened slightly. He understood what Marcus was proposing, and mentally checked his potions stores to see if he had the proper ingredient to brew what would be needed.

Hermione looked at Marcus. “Almost sounds like you are proposing Astral Projection,” she said, her brow wrinkled, “that’s a wooly science. It has never been properly proven. I don’t even think an astral plane exists.”

“It does,” Severus said quietly, “and we can access it with the help of a potion.”

Hermione looked at her husband, surprised at his certainty but still doubtful. He looked at her.

“It doesn’t matter if you believe or not, Hermione. I assure you, we can leave our bodies and meet Alistar. The rules are a bit different on that plane than here, though. The mind must be focused solely on the thing you’ve come to accomplish, otherwise strange manifestations occurred. You can meet your worst fear on the astral plane, and it can touch you.”

Hermione was silent for a moment. Then she looked at Marcus with a great intensity, along with a little reproach.

“When you pretended to be my friend, you hid your knowledge as well, didn’t you Marcus? You dumbed yourself down,” she observed.

Marcus shrugged, “One bloody know-it-all was enough. If you had any idea I could exchange theoretical ideas with you, you would have been more insufferable than you already were. Now, we have other things to concern ourselves with than the “bad old days” Hermione. Do you want to get this taken care of, or do you want to give sexually ‘frigid’ a whole new meaning? You’re going to have to do this too, and Severus because he loves you and that is a weapon now. It’s going to have to be all three of us, and we have to find someone to watch over us while we are out of body.”

“I will be more than happy to help you there,” said Dumbledore, stepping into the Spells lab. Severus had not warded the doors on Marcus’ entry. But even if he had, he could not have kept the Headmaster out. Albus could pass through wards as if they were water when he wanted access.

“Headmaster!” Hermione exclaimed. All three of them stood up. Albus motioned them back to their stools.

“I’m sorry, but I couldn’t resist listening in on you all. Something might have been lost in the retelling of it tomorrow, and I am glad I did. Lady Snape, I believe you were indeed under a spell to recite those words and release Alistar’s essence once you found that book and were deemed to possess sufficient power to be worthy enough to restore him. I imagine his discovery that you are a muggle-born witch incited his old habits rather quickly.” He looked at her sadly. “I am so sorry for that, my dear.”

Hermione dropped her head. Albus continued.

“Peeves informed me of Alistar’s return a short while ago. The method of the wizard’s escape had been a mystery for over a thousand years, and now we finally have him. He has much to pay for, Alistar does. He was the wizarding world’s first serial killer. He assaulted and murdered hundreds of muggle-born women with the intent of stopping them from producing children. He was a sick, twisted, hateful man, and his ghost still harbors that deviant personality. He must be stopped, and you are correct, you three must be the ones to do it. Hermione will attract him immediately. She will be his target. Marcus, you have the power of the blood, and Severus your love for your wife has its own power, and can be lethal to him. Peeves will help you to find him on your journey, albeit reluctantly. He will not help you fight, however. He is too afraid.”

The Headmaster waved his hand, and four shots of firewhiskey appeared on the counter.

“Please,” he said, gesturing to the wizards and witch before him, “join me in a drink to seal our united front. You too, Hermione. I daresay you need a good, stiff drink.”

Marcus and Severus looked at each other with narrowed eyes at Albus’ comment, both remembering how close Marcus had come to fucking Hermione when she was drunk. The tension died slowly as both wizard realized they had to put it behind them and move forward for all their sakes. Hermione picked up the glass without a word with the others. Dumbledore raised his glass.

“We are United!” said Dumbledore, tossing down his drink. The others followed suit, with Hermione breaking out in a coughing fit as the fiery liquor went down the wrong pipe. Severus patted her back gently as Marcus grinned delightedly at her discomfort. Albus looked at the three and mentally shook his head.

He hoped they could work past their difficulties and do this. They were all he had.

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A/N: Whew! Long chapter. I need rest because it\'s about to be on! Please review this chapter4. Your encouragement is really needed to give me some juice here. Thanks.