Chapter Text
May 1st 1998
Before the darkness came, the pain released him. In the absence of pain, his world narrowed to green eyes. There was a push and a pull and if he had lasted a moment longer, Severus was certain that Legilimency would have occurred though he couldn’t be certain in what direction.
The next sense was again of green. The colour surrounded him damply, and it came to him that he was standing in mist. His feet he sensed were slightly sunk into damp earth. The mist was disorienting, so looking down to ground himself he made out stubby grass, sheep shit and bits of fleece. He noted the grass could be the rich colour of the Highlands, but it was also like the fields he knew as a child. Severus held out his hands and tried a simple mist-clearing spell. It worked well and he concluded this was natural fog rather than magic intended as a barrier. Reaching his awareness further, Severus found no ward around him and so took a step forward.
The green in the distance became complicated by browns and greys and in particular by a dark mound just 50 meters away. As he approached, the mound revealed itself as a low stone house with a turf roof. Smoke meandered from the roof’s peak, and Severus wondered what kind of people would forgo the use of a chimney. His answer soon came as the air he was breathing suddenly thinned and he briefly lost balance. He stopped, having collided with a ward and an unusual one. The magical folk who used this building evidently didn’t mind alerting other magical folk of the ward’s presence. On the contrary, this felt like an invisible signifier - you have found us.
As he pushed through the ward, he saw that the mist in the distance had cleared enough to uncover a large hill rising behind the house. The hill was large and distinctive - not tall but wide, one end gently sloping and the other more peaked. Severus realised at once where he was - unmistakably at the foot of the east side of Pendle Hill. A memory came to him of following Lily up that hill one June day as the weather progressed from cold and rainy, to damp and windy and finally to an almost cloudless heat as they reached the top and found they could see as far west as Blackpool.
A muffled thump broke Severus from his reverie. A low door was now open to the stone building and in the entrance stood a teenage girl glowering at him with her legs planted, territorial.
The girl’s witch's robes were not modern though they were in good condition. A green hood was draped around her shoulders and brown eyes were narrowed at him under fair hair. When she spoke, Severus heard Cumbric sounds that recalled his great aunt Aliza from Penrith.
‘Coming in?’ She half-commanded before turning back inside, leaving the door open.
‘Aye,’ He responded unthinkingly and pressed on.
Severus had to duck down under the lintel. He almost gasped as he stood upright again, finding that the old building’s wizardspace only went upwards but not outwards. The height of the ceiling was three times the width of the room and its beams hung with plants, animal parts and unfamiliar objects. The scents in the room were overlaid by seaweed mixed with ginger, and he surmised this was what was in the pot currently being stirred by a red-haired witch in a blue robe.
The ancient building was clearly not a home, but was dedicated to potion-making. Ingredients crowded shelves that jutted from the stone walls and two rough wooden tables stood similarly overflowing. A fire with flames of red and violet rose from a pit in the floor at the centre of the room. The cauldron suspended over it was imprinted with symbols that he couldn’t make out. Whatever was being prepared could be heard simmering. The red-haired woman hummed as she worked and exuded a general air of contentment. When she turned a small smile towards Severus she spoke with a manner of such familiarity she might have been greeting a beloved son just home from the shops.
‘Hello lad. Welcome. You can have a seat if you like. I’m Alice and this is Jenny.’
Jenny, the younger woman, joined Alice at the fireside and now gave a pointed look towards a low stool in the corner of the room. Severus obediently sat down. He wondered if Alice and Jenny were mother and daughter.
Alice carried on speaking. ‘So, you’ll be a Device? Or a Preston?’
‘Nay lass, this one’s a Prince.’ Came a harsh voice from the direction of the doorway.
Severus started in surprise having not heard the door open. The voice belonged to a woman much older than Alice. Her robes were grey, and as she drew down her hood Severus saw that her hair was white and tied into a bundle on top of her head. An overwhelming sense of presence entered the room with her. Severus briefly recalled the first time he had been alone with Albus Dumbledore.
The old woman stopped and faced Severus as he rose to his feet, feeling that he should stand as a mark of respect.
‘I ken my own kin.’ She said and reached out a hand to his neck.
For a moment Severus processed her words. Ken ? Kin ? This witch believed them to be related. He didn’t doubt for a moment that she knew that and a many other things.
Her eyes were sharp and pale grey and the expressions on her face moved from calm to grave to a jaw-set determination. Throughout these transformations her hand full-palmed stroked down the side of his neck.
‘Here is where it happened.’ Her voice was quiet as if she were speaking only to herself.
Severus could not take his eyes from hers. His own hand rose to the same spot on his neck as she stopped stroking and turned away from him. His mouth opened slightly as a painful memory hovered at the edge of his thoughts. He did not quite remember but knew it to be true - his skin here should be torn. And yet it was smooth.
‘Come to the fire if you like.’ Alice called to him.
He stopped trying to bring back the painful memory and crossed the short distance to the fireside. The old woman reached into the folds of her robe. Holding out her hand and opening it, Severus spoke when he recognised what was in her palm, ‘Lonweed’.
The three women as one looked at him in surprise. He explained. ‘I teach potions at Hogwarts.’ At these words, Jenny’s expression changed to shrewd, Alice’s to something like pride and the old woman’s face reverted to the damp leaves she was holding. She took Severus’s left hand turned her hand over and pressed the lonweed between their palms. ‘Harvested from the River Lune at midnight on the first of May. You have arrived on an auspicious night, young Prince.’
‘My name is Severus Snape.’ He said, feeling the need to explain himself. Also feeling the need to justify his presence, he continued. ‘My mother’s name was Eileen Prince.’
Alice helpfully introduced the newcomer. ‘Elspeth is of the Prince line.’
Jenny interjected. ‘Elspeth is old enough to be related to every witch and wizard from the Pennines to the Ribble.’
The old woman busied herself taking the lonweed back from Severus’s grasp and dropping it leaf by leaf into the pot as Alice reversed the direction of her stirring. Elspeth’s tone to the younger girl was dismissive. ‘Aye, well the lad knows when he’s in the presence of a myth. Let’s get on with our work.’
He watched with interest as the colour, smell and simmer of the potion changed. He knew instinctively that the potionmaking was as important as Elspeth’s words. The ‘myth’ to which she referred may be the legendary lonweed healing potion that he had seen references to in books but never seen written down in full. The myth may also have to do with this place -this ancient site of potionmaking and magic. It was on a deep inhalation that the realisation hit him. He looked from Jenny, to Alice, to Elspeth. The maiden, mother and crone. These women were not really here, and this meant of course that neither was he.
A gentle hand pressed onto his side. He looked down to find Elspeth gazing at him. Her voice was still rough, but her tone softer now. ‘You needn’t go on, you know.’
Severus swallowed. ‘On?’
Alice again turned her smile to him and her kind, matronly voice was encouraging. ‘Up yon hill.’ Her head gestured over her shoulder.
He was beginning to understand. He had a choice to make here.
Jenny’s curiosity was piqued and she enquired of Elspeth. ‘Why would you stop his journey? He’s come this far.’
Elspeth had pushed into his mind, and just on the edge of his vision her wand was moving down the side of his body as blue wisps of light rose from him as though commanded by the movement. Elspeth spoke not to Severus, but to Jenny. ‘His journey is at a crossroads. It goes on, should he take that path. A figure has appeared on it that was not there before. A new path appears here too.’
The crone stood back, raised her chin and admonished Severus. ‘You are young, but your path has taken turns twice before. It now lays straight. Your task in the world is done, and yet the bonding of your soul may still lie before you. You may go forward or back but only one way leads towards completion.’
‘And to pain, let’s not forget that.’ Alice’s voice was quiet though the look she gave Elspeth was loving.
Jenny seemed to make a decision. With purpose, she stalked to the door and pushed it open. Severus followed, turned his head to the side to see through the doorway and looked up towards the top of the hill.
The girl’s voice was commanding. ‘Severus Snape, your fate is before you either today or another day. Your ascendancy...well, it can wait. From what Elspeth said, it sounds like your life has been lived for others. Should you want more of life, you can have it. Though remember that pain can’t be avoided, lad.’
Severus found that his feeling of kinship was moving away from the wise and powerful crone and toward this younger woman. He realised that he had arrived at this place owning a past and having no thought of the future. Now a future of possibilities and a destiny that he himself chose - the idea of it swelled his lungs.
‘Come.’ Alice called. He turned his face back toward the fire and saw that she was ladling out potion into a white vessel she held. He approached her and held out a hand for it. Alice turned a handle toward him and he realised she was handing him a simple mug as one might find in a muggle kitchen. As he drew it towards him he marvelled at such an item being in this ancient place. The rim was chipped in two places. He gazed down at the swirling, steaming potion that was as murky as any river depths. He wanted to ask why he was being given this potion and what it is the witches thought needed healing, but his voice caught as he raised the mug and saw the outside of it.
The crest of Accrington Stanley Football Club filled his vision and his heart skipped a beat. He knew this mug. He had his morning tea from it once and once only. He must have been about 9 years old. He hadn’t known that it was his father’s favourite mug but Tobias let him know it, grabbing the thing from his cupped hands and swinging it across his head, hot tea flying. He couldn’t remember his father’s words, only the terror and the pain and his own tears. Now a full-grown wizard and his father long in the ground, his hands shook as he brought the potion to his lips and drank.