July 1997; post-SpinnerÕs End & DumbledoreÕs death
(Raven is OFC by Nakita Akita, http://www.restrictedsection.org/story.php?story=2576)
ÒBloody hell, thatÕs a hawk owl,Ó exclaimed Barry, the storeÕs resident bird watcher.
Barry was very young and worked temporarily at the bookstore as a part of a job orientation programme.
All that really mattered to him were birds. The actual winged and feathered kind, not young females of the human species. His work mates teased him mercilessly, particularly since they were all women and at least ten years his seniors, and his perfect porcelain skin produced a most appealing pink blush. One of the women was even called Raven, and it was apparently her real given name. The pairing was often the butt of innocently naughty jokes that Raven zestfully participated in and that made Barry want to sink into the bowels of the earth.
Raven did not feel very much out of place anymore, as an American in London, or as the survivor of a shipwrecked marriage. She had found work in a book store; the English-language book world was quite international. The big city left her to live her own life in comfortable anonymity, and her private life had improved considerably over the past year.
She had met a wizard.
Not some confused make-believe Wiccan boy trying to impress gullible women with his mumbo-jumbo, but a real, robes-and-wand, potions brewing, mind reading, object summoning wizard. From her personal experience she knew him able to eject a pair of very substantial robbers from her house without a single touch, to appear out of thin air in the middle of her living-room, to transform her cramped quarters into an elegant mansion, or to brew tea by magicking the kettle to boil and the tea bags to fly into the cups by themselves.
His name was Severus Snape, he was her neighbour in the less-than-elegant street where she could afford to rent a house, and he not only existed: after a yearÕs acquaintance she also believed him to return her feelings. Those being affection, love, desire, and just plain wanting to be together. He appeared somewhat shy, not at all the ladiesÕ man that Raven thought he might be, judging from his appearance and sophistication. He simply did not consider himself desirable.
In fact, her affection had seemed as unbelievable to him as his magic had seemed to her, so she supposed they were fairly even.
Now she was worried. According to Severus, the magical world was torn by a war, and his participation had forced him to go into hiding. He had visited her, irregularly, but at least once a week, and had seemed tired, worried, but very much in love with her. For the past two weeks, though, there had been nothing. His house seemed empty, no note appeared magically on her kitchen table, no messenger, no sign, nothing to remind her that she had not dreamed the whole thing. Her greatest fear was that Severus might have been injured, perhaps even killed, in the magical war that felt so vague and unreal to her.
For a brief moment, BarryÕs enthusiasm was infectious. She followed him outside the store, where a largish black-and-white bird was perching in an old chestnut tree. It was about the size of a big crow, it had the round cat-like head of an owl, but the striped breast and long tail feathers of a bird of prey.
ÒBrilliant,Ó Barry whispered. ÒThey donÕt come this far south, and definitely not into the city. ItÕs got to be a bad year for mice up north.Ó
He just stared in fascination, eyes round, mouth slightly open.
ÒAnd weÕre so close! It isnÕt even afraid!Ó
Raven agreed. The bird certainly did not look afraid. In fact, it seemed to be looking straight at her, observing her. She said nothing to Barry Ð her co-workers thought she was crazy enough, even without notions about communing with hawk owls.
Back inside the store, Barry pounced on his Guide to British Birds, to make a note of the unique observation. Raven attacked a pile of encyclopaedias that needed moving to a shelf, to keep herself physically busy and avoid brooding over SeverusÕ uncertain fate. Outside, at seeing them return in, the bird shifted closer to the tree trunk and closed its eyes.
Still restless, Raven left the store as early as she could, and went straight home. She needed to eat, she knew, to avoid falling deeper into a depression, but most of her cooking reminded her of times spent with Severus, and she was in no mood for that. She opted for a salad, and was just opening a can of tuna, when she heard a commotion outside her kitchen window. A large black and white shape was flapping and scrabbling as if trying to get in. For no good reason, Raven thought of the hawk owl outside the store, and opened the window.
The birdÕs wing caught her a smack in the face as the owl flew in and perched on the back of a chair. It really was the hawk owl, or one just like it, Raven thought. The bird kept losing its balance and regaining it with an occasional flap of the wings as it tried to reach out one foot to her. It seemed strangely tame, and Raven wondered if it was injured.
She took hold of the clawed foot, and noticed a piece of parchment tied to the owlÕs leg. She untied it, and the owl bobbed its head approvingly. As Raven unfolded the small scrap, it grew, and ended up the size of a regular letter. It was addressed to her, at her SpinnerÕs End home, and so had arrived correctly.
The owl made a few hooting and twittering sounds to attract RavenÕs attention, but Raven was altogether absorbed by the letter. The owl looked about, flapped over to the kitchen counter, held down the can of tuna with one foot, and sank its beak into the contents.
Raven opened the letter. The page was completely filled with narrow lines written in dark blue ink, but what caught her attention were the few simple characters in the wide top margin. They were black, block capitals, by a hand that obviously had a lot of trouble writing even this little.
TRUST C. LOVE YOU. S.
Severus. It was a distorted version of his handwriting. It reminded Raven of the time she had broken her right wrist in a skiing accident, and had the choice between scribbling laboriously with her left, or wedging a pen between the fingers of her right and shifting the entire plaster cast to form letters.
The shaky characters frightened her, telling her that he was in some kind of serious trouble, but they also proved that he was alive, thinking of her, and not a prisoner, prevented from communicating with the outside world. But, who or what was C? Did Severus trust C, or was he telling Raven to trust who- or whatever it was?
Now the tight, blue lines promised further explanation, so she turned to them. The handwriting was a rather old-fashioned longhand, neat, but so practised and fluent that Raven had trouble deciphering certain words, and had to re-read entire passages several times.
July 6, 1997
Dear Ms. Raven,
You donÕt know me, but I write this letter for and behalf of our mutual friend Severus Snape. Ð He has sustained an injury that renders him temporarily unable to communicate with you, either in person or in writing, and is concerned that you may be worried and upset by his prolonged absence. If you are willing, you could also make a substantial contribution towards his recovery, as this letter will explain to you.
My name is Catrin Achrya, I am a licensed Mediwitch Healer and holder of a Muggle degree in cognitive science. Severus and I go back a long way as friends and colleagues, having published a number of joint research papers in journals such as ÒPotions and MindÓ and ÒPsychosomagics QuarterlyÓ. There has never been even a hint of a romantic attachment, since I prefer the company of women. I have in fact for many years been happily married to Alice Nexoe, the solo bassoonist of the Danish National Film Orchestra.
How much you should know about the war that the Wizarding world is engaged in, will be up to Severus when he recovers. For the time being, I may only tell you that he has been injured in combat. One of our strongest opponents had found a way of possessing a Dementor (a semi-aware creature of mental destruction), and the resulting monster, unable to breach SeverusÕ Occlumency shields, placed a very crude but efficient block on his mental and magical faculties. The block is latched onto his pain receptors, causing him considerable discomfort. Thanks to his extraordinary strength and discipline, after his injury Severus was able to Apparate to my clinic before losing consciousness. In spite of the block he is aware, in a limited sense rational, has retained some rudimentary magical powers, and is able to sense basic emotions in a childlike way.
The good news is that there exists reliable treatment for SeverusÕ condition. Unless complications ensue, which given his basic constitution is extremely unlikely, he will recover completely within a few weeks from the Healing intervention. The bad news is that the intervention, a combination of acupuncture and deeply invasive Legilimency, during which the patient has to be fully conscious, is unpleasant and in parts quite painful. In his weakened state Severus faces it with some trepidation, although he knows that it is necessary. Ð I have read traces of you in SeverusÕ mind when examining him, and I believe that meeting you may be the best thing that has ever happened to him. I also understand that you do not wish to be protected, but are willing to help should he be in trouble. If we can all rely on your composure, your presence during the intervention would strengthen him and you might be able to provide a degree of physical distraction from the discomfort that he has to subject himself to. Ð On the other hand, to put it bluntly, if you yourself have a fear of needles or might break down at seeing a loved one in pain, you should postpone your arrival until after the intervention. I am positive that your presence then will be most welcome.
The intervention is scheduled for this coming Saturday, as a long pre-medication with potions is required. Both Severus and I would of course appreciate your reply as soon as possible. When you have decided whether you will be able to come, and when, please place your answer in an envelope on your kitchen table. A returning envelope will provide you with a Portkey, an ordinary-looking object that will magically bring you to my clinic if you touch it at the appointed time. As you obviously already have shown considerable aptitude at magical travel, you can then continue your work in London as usual and spend your free time here with Severus while he recovers.
Severus looks forward to seeing you again, and I to making your acquaintance.
Best regards
/Catrin Achrya, MH, PhD
Raven felt dizzy, and slightly ill. Severus injured Ð or mad? What on earth was a mental block? The injury sounded strange and frightening, but at least the healer, whatever that was, promised a good chance of complete recovery. Her words were matter-of-fact, so she did not seem to be one of those doctors who lied about everything turning out all right.
First of all, Raven wanted to grab the owl and shout at it to get her to Severus straight away. How, she did not know, or care. The bird was magical, wasnÕt it, so that was its problem.
Then she told herself to slow down a little. She could not have the owl take her to Severus, who, besides, seemed to be in competent hands. Raven was no doctor or nurse, and if she went AWOL from her job and got fired, it would only make her and SeverusÕ situation worse. No point in taking out her worries on a hard-working messenger bird.
But she could and would change her schedule and leave on Friday after the morning meeting. There was no question whatsoever in her mind that she wanted to be with Severus on the day of the intervention. She needed no time to think, and saw no reason to mess about with an envelope on the table when there was a perfectly good owl available to carry back her reply.
She took a small leather-backed notebook out of her bag and pulled out a page. She was feeling almost composed, but her nerves showed when she was looking for a pen, not seeing it, until the owl poked at it with its beak on the table in front of her.
ÒYes, thereÕs a reply. IÕd appreciate if you would take it back,Ó she said to the owl, not feeling the least bit silly. Again, the birdÕs bobbing head seemed to signal approval.
RavenÕs note was brief and to the point.
Dear Ms. Achrya,
The news is sad, but thank you for letting me know.
I trust that Severus is in good hands.
IÕd very much like to come and visit him over the weekend.
Would Friday 10 a.m. be convenient?
My love to Severus. Please let him know IÕm coming.
Regards
/Raven
ÒHe better be in good hands,Ó she thought to herself. ÒOr IÕll track you down, Healer Catrin, wherever you are, and no witchcraft will save your sorry ass.Ó
She folded the piece of paper and looked for something to attach it with. The owl had picked up the used piece of string and was holding it out to her. Raven took it.
As the string touched the paper, the note shrank and rolled up all by itself. Raven slipped the tiny scroll around the owlÕs leg. The string slithered about and tied itself in a secure knot. The owl preened itself briefly, gave a tentative flap of its wings, and walked across the table to the window, ready to be let out.
Raven watched the bird disappear against the dark blue evening sky. She shut the window carefully. The letter in blue and black ink was there, on the kitchen table, and on the counter by the sink, an almost empty small can of tuna in oil.
Raven threw the can in the garbage and reached into the cupboard for a new one.
If you want to find out how Severus was doing at
the clinic,
read the next story .
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