Tonks sits for a moment, thinking. "But, how would she know the language itself, unless her parents actually sat down and worked it all out?" The wizards look at each other silently, fidgeting, then Tonks gives a half-hearted laugh. "You can't mean..." Quietly, Therion goes to the huge bookshelf that takes up the corner of the living room opposite the door that leads to their backyard park. He crouches for a moment and pulls a very large book carefully out of the bottom cabinet, then places it in the center of the coffee table. He sits back down and looks at Tonks evenly. "The Encyclopedia of Arda," Layne says, astonished, "you've never let me see this..."
Therion sighs softly and tells Layne that he's sorry about that, and, "I was just very protective of it. I took my responsabilities perhaps a little too seriously." Carefully, he opens the ancient book and points out annotations made to various passages by different witches and wizards down through the centuries, as well as sketches done by some of the more artistic Guardians of the Book. "How well-known is this tome?" Therion looks up at Remus and tells him, "not very...and not outside the Wizarding World. I have had some very limited contact with Professor Tolkien's son, he's graciously given me copies some of his father's original notes on the History of Middle-Earth, which I have not taken the time to add to this yet. I should." He adds, after a moment, "we need to pay a visit to the Chronicler. It's been quite a while since I've been to see him."
Tonks glances back at the long row of books on the first shelf of the grand bookcase behind her, then back at the encyclopedia, then at the three wizards. "You mean, that's real? The Hobbits and the horsemen and that bloody big eye? All of that?" She blinks. "The One Ring...?" Their silence tells her more than their words possibly could. "And Ellie...how does she fit? If she's speaking...Sindarin..." The Auror rises slowly and heads for the kitchen. "I need a drink." Remus gets up, trying not to laugh. It's not funny, but he can't help it. "Dora--" he finds her opening the bottle of Snape's blood orange wine. "Look, that bloody well scared the Hell out of me...the spider and the damn eye...and Gandalf falling...and stupid Gollum..." She downs a shot and frowns, then corks the bottle, puts it back, and takes out Malfoy's schappes. "I only read those books because Sirius told me to."
She opens the bottle of peppermint schnappes and takes out three more shot glasses, pouring them all a drink. "What would happen if You-Know-Who had the One Ring?" Tonks knocks back the shot after asking her question, not expecting the drink to burn. Remus and Therion both shake their heads after taking their drinks, and Remus tells her, "Sauron's Ring was destroyed, remember?" She nods, takes another drink, then says, "yes, but just suppose..." Layne takes his drink and pours himself another. He takes a deep breath and says, "there isn't a Ring this go-round." He takes his drink, lets it settle, then says, "this time, there's a wand."
***
Lockdown.
All of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, locked down, all because some complete blithering idiot claimed to have seen Harry Potter in Dufftown.
Snape is more than irritated by this turn of events, he's livid, though he maintains his appearance of cool detatchment. He doesn't bother shushing the portraits despite the fact that they raise quite a din. They've a right to be upset; especially those who can travel between their Hogwarts portrait and their portraits in other places. The lockdown applies to even them. The worst of it is that there is no way of knowing how long the lockdown will last, and Snape has no way of getting word to his loved ones. He doesn't dare attempt to reach out mentally to his feathered friend, though he knows somehow that she is nearby. Is she watching? Does she know what is happening? Hell, he doesn't even know what's really happening.
"Bloody fools likely don't even know what Potter looks like," Phineas Nigellus complains as the other portraits settle down, and Snape sits calmly down behind the desk. "To the contrary," he says, "the Ministry has widely circulated wanted posters of the boy. There are likely very few who do not know what he looks like." From his portrait behind Snape, Dumbledore says, "It is entirely possible that someone dressed as Harry to act as a decoy, perhaps to lay a false trail." Thus begins a round of guesses and suppositions, some of which are as wild as they are improbable, and which is ended only by a sage voice far above them, just over the door.
"It's possible someone wanted to create a disturbance in Dufftown to divert attention from prohibited activities in Hogsmeade."
Snape looks up at the Wizard in the painting, wishing his was the only portrait in the office, even for just a little while. There is so very much he would like to ask him, and tell him. Instead, he merely says, "I find that suggestion to be the most logical, and the most likely." He realizes fully that the 'prohibited activities' could entail smuggling fighters into hiding places in Hogsmeade, and the possibility that former Hogwarts student would do such a foolish, yet brave, thing comes as no surprise to Snape. But it does not sit well with him. He rises, goes and pours himself a drink, walks around the office with the drink in his hand, sips the drink and frowns (it's bitter, he didn't notice the bottle he grabbed). He tells himself it's not as bad as it could be.
With the lockdown, there's no classes, all the students and (proper) staff are in their rooms, so there's little more for him to do than sit in this office and listen to the portraits discuss the recent events. He thinks, I shall surely die if I must endure this for very long, and gives silent thanks that none of them are given to spontaneously breaking into song. He takes another sip, thinking idly that he would much rather be home, watching Oddbit paint her toenails. Painting toenails has, in the past, occasionally led to playing with those toes, which has always led to...ah, ok, he thinks, I shant be thinking of that right now, then takes another sip. He then thinks he'd rather be home, watching Oddbit paint Malfoy's toenails, which has never happened, but bloody Hell, it would be...
Just as exciting as watching Oddbit paint her toenails, because there would be giggling, and touching, and...and...Snape slams back the rest of the awful drink and forces himself not to think of anyone he loves, or even mildly likes, because he's reasonably certain that even thinking about Remus right now would...oh, that's IT, Snape thinks, clenching his teeth, this is only happening because I can't get out of here, and this is one of the last places I want to be. He takes a few deep, steadying breaths, and forces himself to sit back down behind that desk. He then begins to shut those parts of his mind down, forcing those thoughts of loved ones and feelings of desire and need into submission and silence.
Closing his eyes, he takes deep, even breaths and thinks about something calming, something that doesn't make his heart race and skin flush; something that makes him feel very calm, and in complete control. He thinks about what he would do right now if he could, if there would be no repercussions. He thinks about what he would very much like to do to Alecto and Amycus, very, very slowly. He thinks about what he would like to do to several other Death Eaters, one by one, until finally, after two hours of this strange meditation he thinks about Bellatrix, and how very much he would like to give her back even just a little of what she has dished out. There wouldn't be enough left of her to put in Saint Mungo's. This twisted excursion into the darker part of himself has given him the detatchment he needs to make it through this lockdown.
He's so relaxed, he decides to just sleep right there in the chair. Something somewhere in the recesses of his mind makes him wonder if Harry still has the Marauders' Map, and if he ever looks in on the goings-on at Hogwarts. Snape is so relaxed that thinking about Harry doesn't make him want to suddenly rip Dumbledore's portrait off of the wall behind him...
***
Tired, confused and a little depressed, Snape's family went to bed hours ago. Tonks was still having difficulty getting her head around the potential dangers of a One Wand, and Remus decided to nip the conversation in the bud because none of them were in any shape emotionally to talk about what exactly Sirius and Dumbledore may have known. There was a funny little arguement about sleeping arrangement, one that Snape might have found amusing; Layne insisted on sleeping alone on the couch in the living room, while Therion insisted that the bed in the Master bedroom was big enough for all of them, so they compromised and all four of them decided to sleep outside in the backyard park. And they managed to have the arguement...well, discussion really...without waking Malfoy, who was soundly sleeping in Elsbet's room.
Sometime during the night, without waking anyone, even Cambion and Loki, or even Malfoy beside her, Elsbet is able to make it through the darkness of the house and slip out into the great, wide city, not in possession of her right mind, unseen and alone...
Therion sighs softly and tells Layne that he's sorry about that, and, "I was just very protective of it. I took my responsabilities perhaps a little too seriously." Carefully, he opens the ancient book and points out annotations made to various passages by different witches and wizards down through the centuries, as well as sketches done by some of the more artistic Guardians of the Book. "How well-known is this tome?" Therion looks up at Remus and tells him, "not very...and not outside the Wizarding World. I have had some very limited contact with Professor Tolkien's son, he's graciously given me copies some of his father's original notes on the History of Middle-Earth, which I have not taken the time to add to this yet. I should." He adds, after a moment, "we need to pay a visit to the Chronicler. It's been quite a while since I've been to see him."
Tonks glances back at the long row of books on the first shelf of the grand bookcase behind her, then back at the encyclopedia, then at the three wizards. "You mean, that's real? The Hobbits and the horsemen and that bloody big eye? All of that?" She blinks. "The One Ring...?" Their silence tells her more than their words possibly could. "And Ellie...how does she fit? If she's speaking...Sindarin..." The Auror rises slowly and heads for the kitchen. "I need a drink." Remus gets up, trying not to laugh. It's not funny, but he can't help it. "Dora--" he finds her opening the bottle of Snape's blood orange wine. "Look, that bloody well scared the Hell out of me...the spider and the damn eye...and Gandalf falling...and stupid Gollum..." She downs a shot and frowns, then corks the bottle, puts it back, and takes out Malfoy's schappes. "I only read those books because Sirius told me to."
She opens the bottle of peppermint schnappes and takes out three more shot glasses, pouring them all a drink. "What would happen if You-Know-Who had the One Ring?" Tonks knocks back the shot after asking her question, not expecting the drink to burn. Remus and Therion both shake their heads after taking their drinks, and Remus tells her, "Sauron's Ring was destroyed, remember?" She nods, takes another drink, then says, "yes, but just suppose..." Layne takes his drink and pours himself another. He takes a deep breath and says, "there isn't a Ring this go-round." He takes his drink, lets it settle, then says, "this time, there's a wand."
***
Lockdown.
All of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, locked down, all because some complete blithering idiot claimed to have seen Harry Potter in Dufftown.
Snape is more than irritated by this turn of events, he's livid, though he maintains his appearance of cool detatchment. He doesn't bother shushing the portraits despite the fact that they raise quite a din. They've a right to be upset; especially those who can travel between their Hogwarts portrait and their portraits in other places. The lockdown applies to even them. The worst of it is that there is no way of knowing how long the lockdown will last, and Snape has no way of getting word to his loved ones. He doesn't dare attempt to reach out mentally to his feathered friend, though he knows somehow that she is nearby. Is she watching? Does she know what is happening? Hell, he doesn't even know what's really happening.
"Bloody fools likely don't even know what Potter looks like," Phineas Nigellus complains as the other portraits settle down, and Snape sits calmly down behind the desk. "To the contrary," he says, "the Ministry has widely circulated wanted posters of the boy. There are likely very few who do not know what he looks like." From his portrait behind Snape, Dumbledore says, "It is entirely possible that someone dressed as Harry to act as a decoy, perhaps to lay a false trail." Thus begins a round of guesses and suppositions, some of which are as wild as they are improbable, and which is ended only by a sage voice far above them, just over the door.
"It's possible someone wanted to create a disturbance in Dufftown to divert attention from prohibited activities in Hogsmeade."
Snape looks up at the Wizard in the painting, wishing his was the only portrait in the office, even for just a little while. There is so very much he would like to ask him, and tell him. Instead, he merely says, "I find that suggestion to be the most logical, and the most likely." He realizes fully that the 'prohibited activities' could entail smuggling fighters into hiding places in Hogsmeade, and the possibility that former Hogwarts student would do such a foolish, yet brave, thing comes as no surprise to Snape. But it does not sit well with him. He rises, goes and pours himself a drink, walks around the office with the drink in his hand, sips the drink and frowns (it's bitter, he didn't notice the bottle he grabbed). He tells himself it's not as bad as it could be.
With the lockdown, there's no classes, all the students and (proper) staff are in their rooms, so there's little more for him to do than sit in this office and listen to the portraits discuss the recent events. He thinks, I shall surely die if I must endure this for very long, and gives silent thanks that none of them are given to spontaneously breaking into song. He takes another sip, thinking idly that he would much rather be home, watching Oddbit paint her toenails. Painting toenails has, in the past, occasionally led to playing with those toes, which has always led to...ah, ok, he thinks, I shant be thinking of that right now, then takes another sip. He then thinks he'd rather be home, watching Oddbit paint Malfoy's toenails, which has never happened, but bloody Hell, it would be...
Just as exciting as watching Oddbit paint her toenails, because there would be giggling, and touching, and...and...Snape slams back the rest of the awful drink and forces himself not to think of anyone he loves, or even mildly likes, because he's reasonably certain that even thinking about Remus right now would...oh, that's IT, Snape thinks, clenching his teeth, this is only happening because I can't get out of here, and this is one of the last places I want to be. He takes a few deep, steadying breaths, and forces himself to sit back down behind that desk. He then begins to shut those parts of his mind down, forcing those thoughts of loved ones and feelings of desire and need into submission and silence.
Closing his eyes, he takes deep, even breaths and thinks about something calming, something that doesn't make his heart race and skin flush; something that makes him feel very calm, and in complete control. He thinks about what he would do right now if he could, if there would be no repercussions. He thinks about what he would very much like to do to Alecto and Amycus, very, very slowly. He thinks about what he would like to do to several other Death Eaters, one by one, until finally, after two hours of this strange meditation he thinks about Bellatrix, and how very much he would like to give her back even just a little of what she has dished out. There wouldn't be enough left of her to put in Saint Mungo's. This twisted excursion into the darker part of himself has given him the detatchment he needs to make it through this lockdown.
He's so relaxed, he decides to just sleep right there in the chair. Something somewhere in the recesses of his mind makes him wonder if Harry still has the Marauders' Map, and if he ever looks in on the goings-on at Hogwarts. Snape is so relaxed that thinking about Harry doesn't make him want to suddenly rip Dumbledore's portrait off of the wall behind him...
***
Tired, confused and a little depressed, Snape's family went to bed hours ago. Tonks was still having difficulty getting her head around the potential dangers of a One Wand, and Remus decided to nip the conversation in the bud because none of them were in any shape emotionally to talk about what exactly Sirius and Dumbledore may have known. There was a funny little arguement about sleeping arrangement, one that Snape might have found amusing; Layne insisted on sleeping alone on the couch in the living room, while Therion insisted that the bed in the Master bedroom was big enough for all of them, so they compromised and all four of them decided to sleep outside in the backyard park. And they managed to have the arguement...well, discussion really...without waking Malfoy, who was soundly sleeping in Elsbet's room.
Sometime during the night, without waking anyone, even Cambion and Loki, or even Malfoy beside her, Elsbet is able to make it through the darkness of the house and slip out into the great, wide city, not in possession of her right mind, unseen and alone...