Fic Post: To Know Who I Am -- Chapter 22
Title: To Know Who I Am
Author: firefly_124
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Angel
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/OFC
Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to my beta reader, ubiquirk, who also made the lovely banner, my Brit-picker, saracen77, and my alpha readers, bluedolfyn and willow_kat.
Disclaimer: If you think I own these characters or am making any money off them, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.
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Chapter 22
Launching out of the fireplace in her cottage, Celia Summoned the Scythe as she ran to the kitchen.
“Not time, not time, not time,” she muttered as she uncovered the potion, which still looked pretty much like water. “If this doesn’t work because I had to rush it, Harry, I’m going to kill you.”
She sliced her finger on the Scythe’s blade and quickly squeezed three drops into the potion, trying very hard not to think about whether that might be literally true.
Willow rushed into the room, Kennedy right behind her.
“Is it done?”
“Why can’t we get a head start?”
“Because we don’t know where we’re going. Is it done?”
“Shhh.”
Celia squeezed the cut closed with her thumb, unwilling to waste time or magic on healing it, and began to stir with her other hand, forcing herself to go as slowly as she dared. Three stirs clockwise, three stirs counterclockwise.
On the last stir, the liquid took on a silvery sheen.
“Goddess, I hope that’s right.” She decanted it into a flask and stoppered it. “Let’s go.”
She ran for the school, not bothering to look behind her. It wasn’t like Kennedy wasn’t just as fast, and Willow had other ways of keeping up. She was so completely focused on getting to the second floor gateway to the Chamber that it took her a minute to process the stares of the students once she was inside the castle.
Oh shit! They need to not be here!
“Prefects!” She looked around wildly, spotting at least two of them. “Get the rest of the students into your common rooms!”
They weren’t moving. Still staring.
She looked down at herself and finally realized she was still wearing jeans and holding the Scythe in one hand and the flask of potion in the other.
Spreading her arms, she demanded, “What? Do I look like I’m joking? Move it!”
The students scattered.
Celia headed for one of the staircases and prepared to cast a Controlling Charm on it.
“Which way?” Willow asked.
Celia nodded towards the second floor landing on the far side of the Entrance Hall and reflexively put an arm across Willow’s shoulders as Kennedy did the same so that Willow could fly them up to it.
“Now where?” Kennedy asked when they landed.
Celia was already running down the hallway, hoping Willow had alerted the others.
*Did you tell-*
*They’re on their way.*
Into the bathroom. There it was: the passageway to the Chamber of Secrets. Wide open.
“Good thing that doesn’t have an auto-shut function,” Kennedy observed.
“Should we wait for-”
“No.” Celia cast an Unbreakable Charm on the flask and shoved it roughly into her pocket, still holding the Scythe in her other hand and concocting every scenario she could imagine of what was going on down there. “There’s no time.”
She paused at the edge of the gaping hole and turned to look back at the others.
*If this goes south, Will, don’t let him have to do it.*
The other witch nodded, and Celia turned to face the hole in the floor again. “Here goes nothing.” And jumped.
~ ~ ~
The stack of essays to be marked was not shrinking as fast as it ought.
Which was strange, considering that his quarters were blessedly quiet and free of distraction. Of course, he had wasted a moment or two looking up to share a choice bit of dunderheadedness, only to have to remind himself that there was no one else there to share it with. An annoying habit for which he’d castigated himself, but hardly as time-consuming as actually reading the offending sections aloud would have been, never mind the conversation that would likely have ensued.
Why, then, did it seem to be taking so very much longer to get through it all?
He glanced at the clock. Nearly time for dinner. He winced, recalling Minerva’s insistence that he make an appearance. Was she similarly berating Celia? Had she ordered her to move into quarters of her own in the castle? Surely he would have heard, were that so. Although it was not as if it were any particular concern of his.
Saturday could not come soon enough. Once the soul-hole, the potential Hellmouth, was eradicated, his part in all this would be done. Tracking down the rest of the nouveau Death Eaters would be a job for the Aurors, not Hogwarts professors or Slayers, and he could simply ignore her existence until she left at end of term.
A sharp hunger pang prompted him to set the rest of the essays aside and prepare to go up to the Great Hall for dinner.
*Severus! Come quick!* Willow’s voice echoed in his mind.
“Merlin! Can’t you give a warning-?” he answered aloud.
*There’s no time! Get to the Chamber of Secrets. It’s happening now!*
He quickly left his quarters and almost immediately ran into a mass of his Slytherins, headed by their prefects, who were already motioning them to press to one side and let him pass.
“Get into the common room and do not leave unless I or another staff member tells you otherwise.”
They nodded, expressions variously frightened and excited.
“Sir?”
He turned to see who had spoken. Lightfeather.
“Good luck.”
He nodded acknowledgement and ran.
~ ~ ~
“Seriously, why does it always have to be sewers?” Celia muttered as she jumped over a loop of basilisk skin, landing in yet another midden of rodent bones.
The doors ahead were open, and she slowed just a bit, trying to see if there was anything lying in wait.
“Xander?” she yelled.
“Hurry!”
She darted through the doors, barely taking in the huge stone pillars covered with carved serpents or the gargantuan statue that dominated the room. Because there they were: Harry, standing in front of a puddle of black goo that was reaching amoeboid limbs towards him, and Xander, kneeling between the puddle and the very large skeleton of a basilisk, both eyeballs focused on the scene in front of him and holding what looked like a very large fang.
Well, the good news seems to be that it doesn’t look like it’s too hellmouthy yet. Or feel it, not that a Hogwarts hellmouth would feel like Cleveland’s.
One tentacle-like extension grabbed at Harry’s ankle, and he didn’t move.
Xander batted at the thing with the fang, scraping the tendril away from Harry, and it retracted back into the pulsating goo that could only be the soul-hole. Celia shuddered.
“Harry! What are you doing? Get away from there!” she yelled.
“Gee, why didn’t I think of yelling at him?” Xander retorted with a frustrated wave of his free hand. “This was just supposed to be recon.”
“Unscheduled recon.”
“But recon, nonetheless. And then he got all zombified.”
“Hence the not scheduling of recon involving people at high risk for being vulnerable to … that.”
“Good work keeping it contained, Xander,” Willow said, landing softly with Kennedy right behind her. Extending a hand, she added, “Cover.”
The only way Celia could see what she’d done was when the soul-hole extended another tendril. And another. And another. Each stopped short, blocked by an invisible dome.
“Hurry,” Willow said. “Not too surprisingly, that thing’s kind of an energy suck.”
“Great!” Kennedy said. “Just what we need. A Willow-charged evil-wizard soul-hole.”
“On it.” Celia pulled the flask out of her pocket, setting the Scythe carefully on the floor as far from the black goop as she could get it while keeping it within reach.
“Harry, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need to pour about half of this into you. You know what it’s for and why it should help.” Well, he did. And there was no point telling the soul-hole thing, assuming it was sentient enough to understand.
It seemed that it did anyway, because its movements became frantic, furiously battering against Willow’s shield.
“Hurry! I can’t hold it much longer and still do the rest!”
Celia pinched Harry’s nose shut, pulled the stopper out of the flask with her teeth, and, when he opened his mouth for air, poured the silvery liquid in. Behind her, she heard more feet arriving, and she felt rather than saw that the new arrival was Severus.
When she thought she had about half the potion in Harry’s mouth, Celia plugged the flask and awkwardly forced his jaw shut.
“Swallow, dammit.” He had to, didn’t he?
He did, and as if someone had flicked a light switch, the dull, glazed look on his face was replaced with a look of horror, his eyes widening. Above them, the lightning bolt-shaped scar faded and vanished.
“You back?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She nodded, released him, and turned to find Severus right beside her. His face and eyes were nowhere near as blank as Harry’s had been, but he was clearly transfixed by the writhing black goo.
“Can you take yours on your own?” she asked warily. If he ended up in some kind of thrall, she was less sure she could manage him the way she had Harry.
“Of course.” With a withering glare, he grabbed the flask and downed its contents.
“Um, guys?” Willow called.
“I’ll take over the shield,” Celia said. “Get that portal open so we can get this thing out of here.”
Severus, she saw, had pulled up his sleeve. Where the Dark Mark had been before, faded but still distinct, there was nothing but skin. She grinned as she reached out towards the bubble-like shield and extended her magic towards it.
It’s working!
“Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us.”
Willow released her shield and the soul-hole sent out more tendrils, this time in Celia’s direction. Celia quickly snapped her own shield around it.
“Before time, and after. Before knowing and nothing.”
Celia felt the semi-sentient goo try first to break through her containment, then start drawing on the energy she was putting into the shield. “Faster would be good, Will.”
“Accept our offer. Allow our aid.”
“Witch! You dare to invoke Osiris again?”
Celia glanced away from the amorphous blob to see a startlingly familiar cloud swirling in front of Willow. Kennedy, she could tell, was trying to hide her shock but clearly ready to fight. Severus appeared merely on his guard. Harry still looked a bit out of it and was leaning on Xander for support.
“Yes, I dare. We’re not asking a favor this time. We’re offering to help Osiris be rid of someone who has been stuck in his realm between lives.”
The drain on Celia’s containment shield suddenly became much greater, and she turned her attention back to it, tightening the shield until the puddle was compressed into a sphere. It was tempting to try and take the energy right back, but she had a feeling that would be a really, really bad idea. Instead, she held it just above her hand like a slightly oversized softball, if softballs were black, evil goo that had to be contained in a magical shield.
When she dared turn her attention back to Willow, the cloud-demon was gone and there was a portal in its place. Celia walked over to it as Willow stepped aside but not quite away from the portal.
At first, there was nothing. Then a wavering outline that finally took the form of a snake-faced man. Despite the fact she’d been expecting as much, she shuddered.
“You forgot something,” she said, pretending to heft the soul-hole.
He didn’t reply.
Well, that’s no fair. Demons usually at least have something to say, even if it’s just a roar.
With a shrug, she prepared to throw the shielded soul-hole through the portal, planning to drop the shield just before it went through to avoid getting sucked in with it herself.
And then she saw a glint in his red eyes. She stopped, suddenly wary of what she’d been about to do.
“What’s the matter, Daughter?” he asked.
“Yeah, um, what’s up, Celia?” Willow echoed. “Get rid of that thing so I can close the portal!”
“No.”
All the rest of them yelled at her at once, save one.
Severus must have seen it too.
“Something’s not right about this,” she said.
*He wants me to!*
Willow’s reply was wordless but unmistakable alarm.
Celia stared at him.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, a sneer in his voice. “Having a bit of trouble?”
She didn’t answer, trying furiously to think what advantage he could possibly gain when she threw the soul-hole in. He should be forced to move on, right? That was the theory, but that’s all it really was. Theory. Hypothesis, really. The more she thought about it, the more she began to think it ought to be downgraded to “wild-assed guess.”
She cast a glance at it. It was no longer siphoning energy off the shield. Quiescent. Dormant. Docile. No longer a threat? Or waiting?
Shit.
“It’s because I’m human, isn’t it? You always did have trouble finishing off humans, even if they were already as good as dead.”
“You are dead,” she snapped, wondering if she dared try Legilimency. Would it even work across a portal boundary? And if it did, could it work both ways?
Behind her, some new noise started, but she didn’t dare look. The others would have to deal with it.
“Then what is holding you back?” He spread his arms, fingers splayed. “Send me the space my soul requires so that I can move on from the torturous boredom of this place.”
She glanced at the black ball again.
Lorne called it an echo. We’ve been calling it a soul-hole. The emptiness that was left when the other pieces of his soul were torn away. But it’s been here for years, soaking up the magic of this chamber. What is it now? What can it really do?
Behind her, she could now hear definite sounds of hexes being cast and repelled. Everything in her screamed at her to join the fight, whatever it was, but she forced herself to stay focused on the portal and on him. They could deal with it. This was her fight.
Except it wasn’t clear anymore what it was she was supposed to be doing. How could she follow through with the original plan if it seemed to be exactly what he wanted? By all accounts, he should have been threatening her, demanding she let him back into their world. So would trying to send the soul-hole through the portal instead let him through? Would they trade places? Would it form a bridge? And if it was what he wanted, why was he making that so obvious?
“The longer you wait, the more likely your friends will die,” he sneered. “Your friends and your lover.”
“Do people in the afterlife have nothing better to do than play Peeping Tom?”
“Don’t call me that!”
It took her a second to remember that his original name had been Tom. Seemed he hated it.
“Why not, Tom?” she asked sweetly. “Surely you don’t expect me to start calling you Daddy.”
“Is that why you can’t do it?” he asked. “You have some sentimental attachment to your father after all?”
“Not likely.”
“So instead, you’ll just stand there trying to figure out what to do until it’s too late, won’t you?”
“Define ‘too late,’ Tom. You’re already dead, and I’ve already eliminated two-thirds of the help you’d need to come back.” She tried not to think about the fact that she was the remaining one-third.
“I said don’t call me that!”
Reassuring as it was to hear the defensive tone in his voice, she had a sinking feeling that he was right. She didn’t know what else to do other than send the soul-hole through the portal. If there was any way to destroy it, they hadn’t discovered it, and as pissed off as he was getting, he still wasn’t letting anything slip.
Something fell with a crash loud enough to make the floor shake. She still didn’t dare take her eyes off him, and she could feel her control over her shield wavering in the face of her doubts.
“If you cannot bring yourself to finish me off,” he said, “perhaps you really want to bring me back yourself. Perhaps you believe you could change me. Redeem me.”
“Your chance for that is long over,” she said, hating the shaky sound of her voice.
“Then do it,” he whispered. “Send it through. Finish the kill.”
Why? Is that what it takes for him to be able to come back? For me to give him the last piece of his ripped-up soul? But if it stays here, Lorne said it’ll create a hellmouth. Or is it that finishing him off makes me a killer? Makes me enough like him that he can take over my body?
What the hell does he want, and how do I not give it to him?
“Harry already did that, Tom,” she pointed out. “You just don’t seem to realize it yet.”
A flare of light just to her left reminded her that there was more going on than this little standoff. She forced herself not to look, not to see how the others were doing, not to abandon this battle for what sounded like a much more straightforward one, one much more to her style of fighting.
And then she realized what he wanted.
“Clever girl,” he said. “But just a bit … late!”
Furious, she hurled the black sphere at the portal, releasing the shield around it and quickly casting another just behind it. On the other side of the portal, her father raised his pale hand, palm out in a warding gesture.
The now uncontained puddle splattered against the portal and dripped down its boundary.
She pressed her shield against it harder, trying to force it through.
He pushed back.
She needed more. The drain on her magic was enormous, and even her Slayer reserves weren’t keeping up. No wonder he’d been so bent on stalling her.
Time to find out if this Slytherin’s heir stuff is good for anything.
She reached out to the magic embedded in the Chamber, called it to her.
For a second, it didn’t seem to recognize her. It felt cold. Distant.
And then it didn’t.
Energy arced up to her from the floor, and she poured it into the shield, pressing the dripping black puddle into the portal.
Voldemort pushed back.
She Summoned more magic from the Chamber. It coursed through her. It was her. She prepared to channel it into the shield, to make one final push. It was intoxicating.
Seriously intoxicating.
I need an anchor.
“Severus!”
She felt rather than saw him next to her. Reached out with her free hand and held onto his arm. Covered though it was, she could feel the absence of the Dark Mark. Could feel the scar on the shoulder. Felt him add his strength, his rejection of her father. Felt her body’s reaction to him, and the temptation to get lost in the magic dimmed. She wasn’t the magic, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
She pushed.
The magic was gone. The portal was gone. She let go of Severus’ arm and fell to her knees an instant before everything went black.
~ ~ ~
“Is it because I’m human?” the Dark Lord demanded. “You always did have trouble finishing off humans, even if they were already as good as dead.”
“You are dead,” Celia snapped.
Sudden movement pulled Severus’ attention away from the Dark Lord, Celia, and the portal that stood between the two. His heart sank as he recognized the approaching swarm. Quickly, he took up a position opposite to Willow’s and began firing off curses at the black-robed figures.
There can’t be this many. Even if the vampire only found one cell, there cannot be this many of them!
“Kennedy!” he heard Willow yell, “get Xander out of here! Tell Minerva what’s happened!”
Potter, he saw, was holding his own.
Holding them back, however, was all they seemed to be able to do. The four of them were positioned in a diamond-shaped formation with Celia and the portal in one corner. None of the Death Eaters, he noticed, approached that area. Fortunate, as it appeared she was still trying to figure out what the Dark Lord was trying to do and was completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Still, they were essentially surrounded and severely outnumbered.
How in Merlin’s name did they get between us and the door?
He hoped Kennedy and Mr. Harris had been able to alert Minerva. She would not be able to seal the Chamber, but she could block off the lavoratory with heavy shielding and see to evacuating the students.
For every Death Eater they managed to Petrify or Stupefy, a Slicing Hex came through. Even using their own curses against them was a purely defensive measure. If Celia didn’t hurry up and get rid of that soul residue and close the portal, this standoff would quickly become a rout.
She’s right that he’s up to something, but if she does not stop bloody talking to him about it, it won’t matter what she does, as we’ll all be dead!
He was momentarily distracted by a crash that reverberated through the floor. Darting a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Willow had used one of the arms from Salazar Slytherin’s statue to pin and possibly crush several Death Eaters. With a feral grin, he shot more curses at the ones before him.
“Severus!”
He hated her just a little for calling out to him for help. She’d made it plain she despised him, but apparently now she had a use for him.
Still firing off hexes and deflecting as many as possible, he sidled towards her, the line of Death Eaters pressing closer as he did so. Magic crackled around her but did not seem to be coming from her. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the Death Eaters to look at it directly.
Before he could ask what she wanted, she grabbed his arm painfully hard, right where the Dark Mark had been until moments ago, and yet somehow she felt insubstantial. Before he could give that paradox any thought, a current of magic both familiar and foreign surged along his skin and up to his shoulder, nearly startling him into dropping his wand.
The scar on his shoulder throbbed, but somehow not with pain.
Looking into the portal, he saw the Dark Lord reaching out to her, and fury boiled up inside him.
Not again. Not this time. I may have lost her, but that does not mean I’ll let you take her!
He felt a shift in Celia, as if she were becoming more solid once again. His own magic resonated with the current running along his arm, and he felt the two somehow both merge and not, like two streams running in opposite directions with only the thinnest strip of land separating them.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the surge of foreign magic was gone. His own magic still seemed to hum in echo of it but no longer flowed out from him.
She released his arm and fell to her knees.
The portal was gone. So, apparently, was the soul-hole.
The Death Eaters abruptly broke off their attack, staring at her. Stunned, Severus cast the strongest Shield Charm he knew around them both as she fell to lie flat on the floor.
Willow and Potter backed towards them until their Shields brushed against his. Willow, he noted, had extended her own Shield Charm around the Scythe that still lay on the floor, but did not pick it up.
*What are they waiting for?* Willow’s voice echoed in his mind.
*I don’t know,* he thought back at her. He crouched, keeping his eyes on the Death Eaters, and felt for Celia’s neck. Her pulse throbbed reassuringly against his fingers. A chill ran down his spine as he wondered whether he really ought to be reassured by that. *Can you reach her?*
After a disturbing pause, Willow replied, *No.*
That didn’t mean anything more than that she was unconscious, but it was still troublesome.
And still the Death Eaters watched in silence.
She stirred, and he stood back to give her room to rise, angling so that he could keep an eye on her as well as the Death Eaters.
She looked around warily.
“My Lord?”
Her eyes locked on the Death Eater who had spoken, and his heart sank even as he insisted to himself that it was not possible. She titled her head as if she heard something that he could not.
“Yes.”
She took a step away from him, her wand suddenly out and trained on himself, Potter, and Willow.
He searched her face for the malevolence that ought to be there, had the Dark Lord possessed her. Her eyes were hard, her jaw set, but there was no sign of the old, familiar malice.
Or is that merely what I want to believe?
There was a barely audible whisper from amongst the Death Eaters.
“Because I have not yet decided what it is I want to do with them,” she said, as if answering a question. “Clearly they think they can get her back and will not harm this … vessel.” She paused and shot a glance in the direction of one who had spoken. “I believe I will enjoy some of the … enhancements that come with it.”
*She’s not answering me! But don’t do anything yet, okay?* Willow spoke into his mind, confirming what Celia, or rather apparently the Dark Lord had just said.
Reflexively, he tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. His hand convulsed around his wand. Potter hadn’t spoken, but he would no doubt share Willow’s reluctance to act. It would be up to Severus to stop this now, before the Dark Lord had the opportunity to acclimate to the strength, speed, and reflexes to which he now had access.
I’m sorry.
“My Lord?”
“You dare question me?” she snarled, her eyes and wand never wavering. “Silence!”
They should be dead by now. Surely the Dark Lord would not have waited this long. If nothing else, he’d have disarmed them all. But if this was Celia, what was she playing at?
“But your prophecy said that you would make clear your return, so that none could question it,” another voice called out.
A scuffling noise came from the doorway through which they’d arrived.
“You know,” she said, “I’m really getting to hate prophecies.”
She began to turn towards the Death Eaters, and Severus raised his wand, once again unsure.
A bolt of yellow light shot from her wand, shattering one of the serpents decorating the stone pillars with a deafening noise, debris raining down onto the Death Eaters surrounding it. Red light followed, Stunning one, two, three of them before they realized she was not possessed by the Dark Lord after all.
Finally certain as well, Severus flicked his wand away from her and Stunned and Bound several of the front line of robed figures before they had their wands up and were firing back. The odds were little better than they had been before, but somehow, it seemed more of the Death Eaters were falling.
As the sea of robes thinned, or at least fell mostly to the floor, he began to see why. Minerva, Tonks, and several other Aurors had come in from behind.
He shot off another series of Stunners and Binding Hexes and deflected several rather nastier curses, methodically working through the Death Eaters before him.
Fewer and fewer Death Eaters were left standing. Then none.
He remained in a defensive posture, eyes and wand scanning the Chamber. There were too many pillars, too many shadowed corners to trust that they’d got them all.
“That went just a little too smoothly,” Willow said from behind him. “At least, in a dictionary that lists breaking thousand year-old statues under ‘smoothly.’”
Loathe to give voice to such a sentiment, Severus found that he had to agree.
From the corner of one eye, he could see Potter stepping over the bound bodies and checking for movement. To his other side, he saw Celia Summon the Scythe from where it had lain on the floor and begin to follow suit, though in a less structured pattern. At the periphery, Minerva and the Aurors were taking similar steps, and so he began to do the same.
Ever cautious, he cast a rudimentary diagnostic spell on each form he approached, ensuring that they were, in fact, unconscious. Those few who were merely Bound, he Stunned. He’d nearly met up with the Auror who’d been checking this section from the opposite direction, when he heard a gravelly, mad voice he’d never thought to hear again.
“Traitor!”
He turned to see Bellatrix push the unconscious form of another Death Eater off of her and stand, wand drawn and leveled at him.
“No!” he heard Celia shout.
There was a burst of green light shot through with red and silver, and then everything went black.
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Author: firefly_124
Fandoms: Harry Potter, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Angel
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: SS/OFC
Acknowledgements: Huge thanks to my beta reader, ubiquirk, who also made the lovely banner, my Brit-picker, saracen77, and my alpha readers, bluedolfyn and willow_kat.
Disclaimer: If you think I own these characters or am making any money off them, there's this nice room in St. Mungo's for you.
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Chapter 22
Launching out of the fireplace in her cottage, Celia Summoned the Scythe as she ran to the kitchen.
“Not time, not time, not time,” she muttered as she uncovered the potion, which still looked pretty much like water. “If this doesn’t work because I had to rush it, Harry, I’m going to kill you.”
She sliced her finger on the Scythe’s blade and quickly squeezed three drops into the potion, trying very hard not to think about whether that might be literally true.
Willow rushed into the room, Kennedy right behind her.
“Is it done?”
“Why can’t we get a head start?”
“Because we don’t know where we’re going. Is it done?”
“Shhh.”
Celia squeezed the cut closed with her thumb, unwilling to waste time or magic on healing it, and began to stir with her other hand, forcing herself to go as slowly as she dared. Three stirs clockwise, three stirs counterclockwise.
On the last stir, the liquid took on a silvery sheen.
“Goddess, I hope that’s right.” She decanted it into a flask and stoppered it. “Let’s go.”
She ran for the school, not bothering to look behind her. It wasn’t like Kennedy wasn’t just as fast, and Willow had other ways of keeping up. She was so completely focused on getting to the second floor gateway to the Chamber that it took her a minute to process the stares of the students once she was inside the castle.
Oh shit! They need to not be here!
“Prefects!” She looked around wildly, spotting at least two of them. “Get the rest of the students into your common rooms!”
They weren’t moving. Still staring.
She looked down at herself and finally realized she was still wearing jeans and holding the Scythe in one hand and the flask of potion in the other.
Spreading her arms, she demanded, “What? Do I look like I’m joking? Move it!”
The students scattered.
Celia headed for one of the staircases and prepared to cast a Controlling Charm on it.
“Which way?” Willow asked.
Celia nodded towards the second floor landing on the far side of the Entrance Hall and reflexively put an arm across Willow’s shoulders as Kennedy did the same so that Willow could fly them up to it.
“Now where?” Kennedy asked when they landed.
Celia was already running down the hallway, hoping Willow had alerted the others.
*Did you tell-*
*They’re on their way.*
Into the bathroom. There it was: the passageway to the Chamber of Secrets. Wide open.
“Good thing that doesn’t have an auto-shut function,” Kennedy observed.
“Should we wait for-”
“No.” Celia cast an Unbreakable Charm on the flask and shoved it roughly into her pocket, still holding the Scythe in her other hand and concocting every scenario she could imagine of what was going on down there. “There’s no time.”
She paused at the edge of the gaping hole and turned to look back at the others.
*If this goes south, Will, don’t let him have to do it.*
The other witch nodded, and Celia turned to face the hole in the floor again. “Here goes nothing.” And jumped.
~ ~ ~
The stack of essays to be marked was not shrinking as fast as it ought.
Which was strange, considering that his quarters were blessedly quiet and free of distraction. Of course, he had wasted a moment or two looking up to share a choice bit of dunderheadedness, only to have to remind himself that there was no one else there to share it with. An annoying habit for which he’d castigated himself, but hardly as time-consuming as actually reading the offending sections aloud would have been, never mind the conversation that would likely have ensued.
Why, then, did it seem to be taking so very much longer to get through it all?
He glanced at the clock. Nearly time for dinner. He winced, recalling Minerva’s insistence that he make an appearance. Was she similarly berating Celia? Had she ordered her to move into quarters of her own in the castle? Surely he would have heard, were that so. Although it was not as if it were any particular concern of his.
Saturday could not come soon enough. Once the soul-hole, the potential Hellmouth, was eradicated, his part in all this would be done. Tracking down the rest of the nouveau Death Eaters would be a job for the Aurors, not Hogwarts professors or Slayers, and he could simply ignore her existence until she left at end of term.
A sharp hunger pang prompted him to set the rest of the essays aside and prepare to go up to the Great Hall for dinner.
*Severus! Come quick!* Willow’s voice echoed in his mind.
“Merlin! Can’t you give a warning-?” he answered aloud.
*There’s no time! Get to the Chamber of Secrets. It’s happening now!*
He quickly left his quarters and almost immediately ran into a mass of his Slytherins, headed by their prefects, who were already motioning them to press to one side and let him pass.
“Get into the common room and do not leave unless I or another staff member tells you otherwise.”
They nodded, expressions variously frightened and excited.
“Sir?”
He turned to see who had spoken. Lightfeather.
“Good luck.”
He nodded acknowledgement and ran.
~ ~ ~
“Seriously, why does it always have to be sewers?” Celia muttered as she jumped over a loop of basilisk skin, landing in yet another midden of rodent bones.
The doors ahead were open, and she slowed just a bit, trying to see if there was anything lying in wait.
“Xander?” she yelled.
“Hurry!”
She darted through the doors, barely taking in the huge stone pillars covered with carved serpents or the gargantuan statue that dominated the room. Because there they were: Harry, standing in front of a puddle of black goo that was reaching amoeboid limbs towards him, and Xander, kneeling between the puddle and the very large skeleton of a basilisk, both eyeballs focused on the scene in front of him and holding what looked like a very large fang.
Well, the good news seems to be that it doesn’t look like it’s too hellmouthy yet. Or feel it, not that a Hogwarts hellmouth would feel like Cleveland’s.
One tentacle-like extension grabbed at Harry’s ankle, and he didn’t move.
Xander batted at the thing with the fang, scraping the tendril away from Harry, and it retracted back into the pulsating goo that could only be the soul-hole. Celia shuddered.
“Harry! What are you doing? Get away from there!” she yelled.
“Gee, why didn’t I think of yelling at him?” Xander retorted with a frustrated wave of his free hand. “This was just supposed to be recon.”
“Unscheduled recon.”
“But recon, nonetheless. And then he got all zombified.”
“Hence the not scheduling of recon involving people at high risk for being vulnerable to … that.”
“Good work keeping it contained, Xander,” Willow said, landing softly with Kennedy right behind her. Extending a hand, she added, “Cover.”
The only way Celia could see what she’d done was when the soul-hole extended another tendril. And another. And another. Each stopped short, blocked by an invisible dome.
“Hurry,” Willow said. “Not too surprisingly, that thing’s kind of an energy suck.”
“Great!” Kennedy said. “Just what we need. A Willow-charged evil-wizard soul-hole.”
“On it.” Celia pulled the flask out of her pocket, setting the Scythe carefully on the floor as far from the black goop as she could get it while keeping it within reach.
“Harry, I don’t know if you can hear me, but I need to pour about half of this into you. You know what it’s for and why it should help.” Well, he did. And there was no point telling the soul-hole thing, assuming it was sentient enough to understand.
It seemed that it did anyway, because its movements became frantic, furiously battering against Willow’s shield.
“Hurry! I can’t hold it much longer and still do the rest!”
Celia pinched Harry’s nose shut, pulled the stopper out of the flask with her teeth, and, when he opened his mouth for air, poured the silvery liquid in. Behind her, she heard more feet arriving, and she felt rather than saw that the new arrival was Severus.
When she thought she had about half the potion in Harry’s mouth, Celia plugged the flask and awkwardly forced his jaw shut.
“Swallow, dammit.” He had to, didn’t he?
He did, and as if someone had flicked a light switch, the dull, glazed look on his face was replaced with a look of horror, his eyes widening. Above them, the lightning bolt-shaped scar faded and vanished.
“You back?”
“Yeah. Thanks.”
She nodded, released him, and turned to find Severus right beside her. His face and eyes were nowhere near as blank as Harry’s had been, but he was clearly transfixed by the writhing black goo.
“Can you take yours on your own?” she asked warily. If he ended up in some kind of thrall, she was less sure she could manage him the way she had Harry.
“Of course.” With a withering glare, he grabbed the flask and downed its contents.
“Um, guys?” Willow called.
“I’ll take over the shield,” Celia said. “Get that portal open so we can get this thing out of here.”
Severus, she saw, had pulled up his sleeve. Where the Dark Mark had been before, faded but still distinct, there was nothing but skin. She grinned as she reached out towards the bubble-like shield and extended her magic towards it.
It’s working!
“Osiris, keeper of the gate, master of all fate, hear us.”
Willow released her shield and the soul-hole sent out more tendrils, this time in Celia’s direction. Celia quickly snapped her own shield around it.
“Before time, and after. Before knowing and nothing.”
Celia felt the semi-sentient goo try first to break through her containment, then start drawing on the energy she was putting into the shield. “Faster would be good, Will.”
“Accept our offer. Allow our aid.”
“Witch! You dare to invoke Osiris again?”
Celia glanced away from the amorphous blob to see a startlingly familiar cloud swirling in front of Willow. Kennedy, she could tell, was trying to hide her shock but clearly ready to fight. Severus appeared merely on his guard. Harry still looked a bit out of it and was leaning on Xander for support.
“Yes, I dare. We’re not asking a favor this time. We’re offering to help Osiris be rid of someone who has been stuck in his realm between lives.”
The drain on Celia’s containment shield suddenly became much greater, and she turned her attention back to it, tightening the shield until the puddle was compressed into a sphere. It was tempting to try and take the energy right back, but she had a feeling that would be a really, really bad idea. Instead, she held it just above her hand like a slightly oversized softball, if softballs were black, evil goo that had to be contained in a magical shield.
When she dared turn her attention back to Willow, the cloud-demon was gone and there was a portal in its place. Celia walked over to it as Willow stepped aside but not quite away from the portal.
At first, there was nothing. Then a wavering outline that finally took the form of a snake-faced man. Despite the fact she’d been expecting as much, she shuddered.
“You forgot something,” she said, pretending to heft the soul-hole.
He didn’t reply.
Well, that’s no fair. Demons usually at least have something to say, even if it’s just a roar.
With a shrug, she prepared to throw the shielded soul-hole through the portal, planning to drop the shield just before it went through to avoid getting sucked in with it herself.
And then she saw a glint in his red eyes. She stopped, suddenly wary of what she’d been about to do.
“What’s the matter, Daughter?” he asked.
“Yeah, um, what’s up, Celia?” Willow echoed. “Get rid of that thing so I can close the portal!”
“No.”
All the rest of them yelled at her at once, save one.
Severus must have seen it too.
“Something’s not right about this,” she said.
*He wants me to!*
Willow’s reply was wordless but unmistakable alarm.
Celia stared at him.
“What are you waiting for?” he asked, a sneer in his voice. “Having a bit of trouble?”
She didn’t answer, trying furiously to think what advantage he could possibly gain when she threw the soul-hole in. He should be forced to move on, right? That was the theory, but that’s all it really was. Theory. Hypothesis, really. The more she thought about it, the more she began to think it ought to be downgraded to “wild-assed guess.”
She cast a glance at it. It was no longer siphoning energy off the shield. Quiescent. Dormant. Docile. No longer a threat? Or waiting?
Shit.
“It’s because I’m human, isn’t it? You always did have trouble finishing off humans, even if they were already as good as dead.”
“You are dead,” she snapped, wondering if she dared try Legilimency. Would it even work across a portal boundary? And if it did, could it work both ways?
Behind her, some new noise started, but she didn’t dare look. The others would have to deal with it.
“Then what is holding you back?” He spread his arms, fingers splayed. “Send me the space my soul requires so that I can move on from the torturous boredom of this place.”
She glanced at the black ball again.
Lorne called it an echo. We’ve been calling it a soul-hole. The emptiness that was left when the other pieces of his soul were torn away. But it’s been here for years, soaking up the magic of this chamber. What is it now? What can it really do?
Behind her, she could now hear definite sounds of hexes being cast and repelled. Everything in her screamed at her to join the fight, whatever it was, but she forced herself to stay focused on the portal and on him. They could deal with it. This was her fight.
Except it wasn’t clear anymore what it was she was supposed to be doing. How could she follow through with the original plan if it seemed to be exactly what he wanted? By all accounts, he should have been threatening her, demanding she let him back into their world. So would trying to send the soul-hole through the portal instead let him through? Would they trade places? Would it form a bridge? And if it was what he wanted, why was he making that so obvious?
“The longer you wait, the more likely your friends will die,” he sneered. “Your friends and your lover.”
“Do people in the afterlife have nothing better to do than play Peeping Tom?”
“Don’t call me that!”
It took her a second to remember that his original name had been Tom. Seemed he hated it.
“Why not, Tom?” she asked sweetly. “Surely you don’t expect me to start calling you Daddy.”
“Is that why you can’t do it?” he asked. “You have some sentimental attachment to your father after all?”
“Not likely.”
“So instead, you’ll just stand there trying to figure out what to do until it’s too late, won’t you?”
“Define ‘too late,’ Tom. You’re already dead, and I’ve already eliminated two-thirds of the help you’d need to come back.” She tried not to think about the fact that she was the remaining one-third.
“I said don’t call me that!”
Reassuring as it was to hear the defensive tone in his voice, she had a sinking feeling that he was right. She didn’t know what else to do other than send the soul-hole through the portal. If there was any way to destroy it, they hadn’t discovered it, and as pissed off as he was getting, he still wasn’t letting anything slip.
Something fell with a crash loud enough to make the floor shake. She still didn’t dare take her eyes off him, and she could feel her control over her shield wavering in the face of her doubts.
“If you cannot bring yourself to finish me off,” he said, “perhaps you really want to bring me back yourself. Perhaps you believe you could change me. Redeem me.”
“Your chance for that is long over,” she said, hating the shaky sound of her voice.
“Then do it,” he whispered. “Send it through. Finish the kill.”
Why? Is that what it takes for him to be able to come back? For me to give him the last piece of his ripped-up soul? But if it stays here, Lorne said it’ll create a hellmouth. Or is it that finishing him off makes me a killer? Makes me enough like him that he can take over my body?
What the hell does he want, and how do I not give it to him?
“Harry already did that, Tom,” she pointed out. “You just don’t seem to realize it yet.”
A flare of light just to her left reminded her that there was more going on than this little standoff. She forced herself not to look, not to see how the others were doing, not to abandon this battle for what sounded like a much more straightforward one, one much more to her style of fighting.
And then she realized what he wanted.
“Clever girl,” he said. “But just a bit … late!”
Furious, she hurled the black sphere at the portal, releasing the shield around it and quickly casting another just behind it. On the other side of the portal, her father raised his pale hand, palm out in a warding gesture.
The now uncontained puddle splattered against the portal and dripped down its boundary.
She pressed her shield against it harder, trying to force it through.
He pushed back.
She needed more. The drain on her magic was enormous, and even her Slayer reserves weren’t keeping up. No wonder he’d been so bent on stalling her.
Time to find out if this Slytherin’s heir stuff is good for anything.
She reached out to the magic embedded in the Chamber, called it to her.
For a second, it didn’t seem to recognize her. It felt cold. Distant.
And then it didn’t.
Energy arced up to her from the floor, and she poured it into the shield, pressing the dripping black puddle into the portal.
Voldemort pushed back.
She Summoned more magic from the Chamber. It coursed through her. It was her. She prepared to channel it into the shield, to make one final push. It was intoxicating.
Seriously intoxicating.
I need an anchor.
“Severus!”
She felt rather than saw him next to her. Reached out with her free hand and held onto his arm. Covered though it was, she could feel the absence of the Dark Mark. Could feel the scar on the shoulder. Felt him add his strength, his rejection of her father. Felt her body’s reaction to him, and the temptation to get lost in the magic dimmed. She wasn’t the magic, and she wasn’t going anywhere.
She pushed.
The magic was gone. The portal was gone. She let go of Severus’ arm and fell to her knees an instant before everything went black.
~ ~ ~
“Is it because I’m human?” the Dark Lord demanded. “You always did have trouble finishing off humans, even if they were already as good as dead.”
“You are dead,” Celia snapped.
Sudden movement pulled Severus’ attention away from the Dark Lord, Celia, and the portal that stood between the two. His heart sank as he recognized the approaching swarm. Quickly, he took up a position opposite to Willow’s and began firing off curses at the black-robed figures.
There can’t be this many. Even if the vampire only found one cell, there cannot be this many of them!
“Kennedy!” he heard Willow yell, “get Xander out of here! Tell Minerva what’s happened!”
Potter, he saw, was holding his own.
Holding them back, however, was all they seemed to be able to do. The four of them were positioned in a diamond-shaped formation with Celia and the portal in one corner. None of the Death Eaters, he noticed, approached that area. Fortunate, as it appeared she was still trying to figure out what the Dark Lord was trying to do and was completely oblivious to the sudden chaos. Still, they were essentially surrounded and severely outnumbered.
How in Merlin’s name did they get between us and the door?
He hoped Kennedy and Mr. Harris had been able to alert Minerva. She would not be able to seal the Chamber, but she could block off the lavoratory with heavy shielding and see to evacuating the students.
For every Death Eater they managed to Petrify or Stupefy, a Slicing Hex came through. Even using their own curses against them was a purely defensive measure. If Celia didn’t hurry up and get rid of that soul residue and close the portal, this standoff would quickly become a rout.
She’s right that he’s up to something, but if she does not stop bloody talking to him about it, it won’t matter what she does, as we’ll all be dead!
He was momentarily distracted by a crash that reverberated through the floor. Darting a glance over his shoulder, he saw that Willow had used one of the arms from Salazar Slytherin’s statue to pin and possibly crush several Death Eaters. With a feral grin, he shot more curses at the ones before him.
“Severus!”
He hated her just a little for calling out to him for help. She’d made it plain she despised him, but apparently now she had a use for him.
Still firing off hexes and deflecting as many as possible, he sidled towards her, the line of Death Eaters pressing closer as he did so. Magic crackled around her but did not seem to be coming from her. He didn’t dare take his eyes off the Death Eaters to look at it directly.
Before he could ask what she wanted, she grabbed his arm painfully hard, right where the Dark Mark had been until moments ago, and yet somehow she felt insubstantial. Before he could give that paradox any thought, a current of magic both familiar and foreign surged along his skin and up to his shoulder, nearly startling him into dropping his wand.
The scar on his shoulder throbbed, but somehow not with pain.
Looking into the portal, he saw the Dark Lord reaching out to her, and fury boiled up inside him.
Not again. Not this time. I may have lost her, but that does not mean I’ll let you take her!
He felt a shift in Celia, as if she were becoming more solid once again. His own magic resonated with the current running along his arm, and he felt the two somehow both merge and not, like two streams running in opposite directions with only the thinnest strip of land separating them.
Then, as quickly as it had come, the surge of foreign magic was gone. His own magic still seemed to hum in echo of it but no longer flowed out from him.
She released his arm and fell to her knees.
The portal was gone. So, apparently, was the soul-hole.
The Death Eaters abruptly broke off their attack, staring at her. Stunned, Severus cast the strongest Shield Charm he knew around them both as she fell to lie flat on the floor.
Willow and Potter backed towards them until their Shields brushed against his. Willow, he noted, had extended her own Shield Charm around the Scythe that still lay on the floor, but did not pick it up.
*What are they waiting for?* Willow’s voice echoed in his mind.
*I don’t know,* he thought back at her. He crouched, keeping his eyes on the Death Eaters, and felt for Celia’s neck. Her pulse throbbed reassuringly against his fingers. A chill ran down his spine as he wondered whether he really ought to be reassured by that. *Can you reach her?*
After a disturbing pause, Willow replied, *No.*
That didn’t mean anything more than that she was unconscious, but it was still troublesome.
And still the Death Eaters watched in silence.
She stirred, and he stood back to give her room to rise, angling so that he could keep an eye on her as well as the Death Eaters.
She looked around warily.
“My Lord?”
Her eyes locked on the Death Eater who had spoken, and his heart sank even as he insisted to himself that it was not possible. She titled her head as if she heard something that he could not.
“Yes.”
She took a step away from him, her wand suddenly out and trained on himself, Potter, and Willow.
He searched her face for the malevolence that ought to be there, had the Dark Lord possessed her. Her eyes were hard, her jaw set, but there was no sign of the old, familiar malice.
Or is that merely what I want to believe?
There was a barely audible whisper from amongst the Death Eaters.
“Because I have not yet decided what it is I want to do with them,” she said, as if answering a question. “Clearly they think they can get her back and will not harm this … vessel.” She paused and shot a glance in the direction of one who had spoken. “I believe I will enjoy some of the … enhancements that come with it.”
*She’s not answering me! But don’t do anything yet, okay?* Willow spoke into his mind, confirming what Celia, or rather apparently the Dark Lord had just said.
Reflexively, he tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry. His hand convulsed around his wand. Potter hadn’t spoken, but he would no doubt share Willow’s reluctance to act. It would be up to Severus to stop this now, before the Dark Lord had the opportunity to acclimate to the strength, speed, and reflexes to which he now had access.
I’m sorry.
“My Lord?”
“You dare question me?” she snarled, her eyes and wand never wavering. “Silence!”
They should be dead by now. Surely the Dark Lord would not have waited this long. If nothing else, he’d have disarmed them all. But if this was Celia, what was she playing at?
“But your prophecy said that you would make clear your return, so that none could question it,” another voice called out.
A scuffling noise came from the doorway through which they’d arrived.
“You know,” she said, “I’m really getting to hate prophecies.”
She began to turn towards the Death Eaters, and Severus raised his wand, once again unsure.
A bolt of yellow light shot from her wand, shattering one of the serpents decorating the stone pillars with a deafening noise, debris raining down onto the Death Eaters surrounding it. Red light followed, Stunning one, two, three of them before they realized she was not possessed by the Dark Lord after all.
Finally certain as well, Severus flicked his wand away from her and Stunned and Bound several of the front line of robed figures before they had their wands up and were firing back. The odds were little better than they had been before, but somehow, it seemed more of the Death Eaters were falling.
As the sea of robes thinned, or at least fell mostly to the floor, he began to see why. Minerva, Tonks, and several other Aurors had come in from behind.
He shot off another series of Stunners and Binding Hexes and deflected several rather nastier curses, methodically working through the Death Eaters before him.
Fewer and fewer Death Eaters were left standing. Then none.
He remained in a defensive posture, eyes and wand scanning the Chamber. There were too many pillars, too many shadowed corners to trust that they’d got them all.
“That went just a little too smoothly,” Willow said from behind him. “At least, in a dictionary that lists breaking thousand year-old statues under ‘smoothly.’”
Loathe to give voice to such a sentiment, Severus found that he had to agree.
From the corner of one eye, he could see Potter stepping over the bound bodies and checking for movement. To his other side, he saw Celia Summon the Scythe from where it had lain on the floor and begin to follow suit, though in a less structured pattern. At the periphery, Minerva and the Aurors were taking similar steps, and so he began to do the same.
Ever cautious, he cast a rudimentary diagnostic spell on each form he approached, ensuring that they were, in fact, unconscious. Those few who were merely Bound, he Stunned. He’d nearly met up with the Auror who’d been checking this section from the opposite direction, when he heard a gravelly, mad voice he’d never thought to hear again.
“Traitor!”
He turned to see Bellatrix push the unconscious form of another Death Eater off of her and stand, wand drawn and leveled at him.
“No!” he heard Celia shout.
There was a burst of green light shot through with red and silver, and then everything went black.
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