"Go on then, let's hear it," Ron said in a humoring tone.

"Snape screwed up a potion today," Ginny announced, bursting into giggles.

"WHAT?" Harry and Ron exclaimed simultaneously.

"It was pretty spectacular too," Ginny continued between giggles. "He was just sort of sitting there staring off into space, like he had some kind of memory charm on him or something. And then the cauldron started bubbling and dripping all over the place and making popping sounds. That's when Snape heard it, and he got this gorgeous look of utter horror on his face and jumped up like he'd been bitten by a jeweled drake. He went running over with a shriek to try to fix it. He started snarling and complaining about how Professor Deveroux had totally messed up his life, and he was spouting all these dire threats and condemnations. That was right about the time his cauldron blew into a million itty-bitty pieces!"

Ron and Harry were cracking up laughing at this point, but Ginny wasn't finished.

"I wish you guys had seen it, or that Colin had had some film left in his camera. Snape's expression was worth a Galleon a photo! It was the most spectacular mess I have ever seen in Potions class and boy, was he furious! He had the stuff all over him, and it started burning little holes in his robes. To top it all off, this little pink flower popped right out of the corner of his desk just as if on cue!"

Ginny was wiping tears from her eyes at this point and so was Ron. But Harry had stopped laughing, and instead he wore a serious expression. "Snape didn't screw up that potion," he said. "No way. It had to be Deveroux's doing. Oh boy, Dumbledore is going to be throwing bolts when he hears about this one. They are supposed to be leaving each other alone on pain of suspension."

"But that's the thing," said Ginny. "He didn't even grab the flower and shred it like he usually does. Instead he just sort of snorted and left it there. Then he went around cleaning up the mess for the rest of the class period."

"That's odd," said Harry.

"I don't like it," remarked Ron. "When he gets quiet like that, it's because he's planning something. Maybe finishing the job he started in the duel. Remember how long he plotted his revenge on Sirius?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed, thinking of how Snape had tried to throw his godfather to the Dementors. "Maybe we should warn Professor Deveroux."

"Oh, like we warned McGonagall about the Sorcerer’s Stone? Like we tried to warn Dumbledore about Snape, and he took your cloak away? Harry, she'll never believe us. They never believe us until it's too late. You know that. I say we go to..." Ron shot a sideways glance at his little sister, who by now was sorting through her books and scrolls at the other end of the table, then a pointed look at Harry, "our mutual friend and see how that ...er...study session is coming along. The sooner we get cracking, the sooner we er...get the goods on you-know-who."

"Yeah," Harry agreed, and his eyes flashed dangerously.

"What was that?" Ginny asked, looking up from her stack of schoolwork.

"Ummm ... we were just saying that we should ...." Ron started to say.

"Wrap up our game and start studying," Harry cut in.

"That would be different for you now, wouldn't it," Ginny said as she looked at her brother through narrowed eyes.

"You know, you've been hanging around with Hermione far too long," Ron grumped.

Ginny merely shrugged and continued to study, while the two older students continued their game for another half-hour before hitting the books.

****

"Where have you been?" Madam Hooch barked out from behind her desk as Hagrid ambled into the flying instructor's small, Spartan office. The half-giant seemed to fill the entire space. Hooch had been drumming her fingers impatiently upon the surface of her sturdy oak desk which was cluttered only by a single, neatly arranged stack of freshly-graded first-year quiz papers, a 36" x 36" map of the Hogwarts castle and grounds, and a shiny silver quill holder containing a ratty, worn-looking golden eagle feather quill and a very new-looking sleek raven-black quill side by side. A black free-standing chalkboard stood behind the desk, and it was covered with a persistent layer of chalk dust and half-erased notes on flying formations, broom-riding tips for beginners, and Quidditch strategies.

The typically foul-tempered Filch turned to face the doorway as Hagrid entered. With his arms crossed and a scowl on his face, he very much resembled a roosting vulture. Mrs. Norris, who was perched on Filch's lap, looked up, stretched, and flexed her claws at Hagrid's arrival. Seeing that it was only Hagrid, the cat yawned widely and curled back into a ball.

"Sorry 'bout that," Hagrid apologized, waving a hand carelessly and knocking a couple of plaques off the wall. One fallen plaque was rectangular with rounded off corners, made of oak and bearing shiny silver script, which read:

Holyhead Harpies
All-British Female Quidditch Champs
~1976~
Madam Halcyon Hooch
Chaser

Along the wall in a line as straight as a yardstick hung similar plaques dated 1963, 1966, 1967, 1968, 1972, and 1974. But these, fortunately, had not succumbed to Hagrid's overexuberant hand-waving.

The other plaque now lying on the floor was oval-shaped and slightly larger, and it prominently displayed a moving picture of a younger Madam Hooch riding a Nimbus 1200 and wearing a gold medal on a royal blue ribbon. The Hooch in the photo was beaming proudly, waving a hand, and holding up the medal with the other hand while her short grey hair and navy blue robes waved and flapped in an invisible wind. Beneath the picture a brass plate lettered in black read:

First Place
Aerial Exhibition Dueling
The Hohberht International Broomstick Games
Scotland ~1962

"Oops!" Hagrid muttered contritely as Filch continued to scowl and Hooch rolled her eyes and sighed impatiently. The half-giant stooped to pick up the fallen plaques, but Hooch's voice quickly halted him.

"No, Hagrid!" the flying instructor scolded sharply, "I'll get them later. Just go stand over there and don't touch anything. Don't even move."

Looking like a whipped house-elf, Hagrid slouched over to the desk and leaned against the wall.

"Why were you late?" Hooch barked. "We were ready to start 20 minutes ago!"

"Yeah, and after this, I have to meet with the patrolling trolls," Filch muttered. "Right surly lot, them trolls are." He shuddered.

"Sorry," Hagrid said. "Had a little trouble back on the school grounds with some of the ... errrr ... creatures I brought fer the third-years to study tomorrow."

Hooch and Filch again exchanged looks. "Not the clabberts again! Can't imagine what's got into them lately..." Filch complained with a glare at Hagrid that clearly said everything you bring here causes problems!

"No no, t'weren't them this time," Hagrid said. "T’was the knarls. Some students must have accidentally dropped a chocolate wrapper or an apple core or somethin’ nearby, and the little buggers were in an uproar."

"Knarls! Why were you fooling with knarls when we have more important matters of security to discuss?" Hooch exclaimed with a glare. "The clabberts I could understand, because they at least are part of our early warning system... although the ones you brought here seem to be prone to raising false alarms...."

Hagrid coughed and looked down at his feet in embarrassment. About a week ago, when they had first started the patrols, Hagrid had come running from his cabin, alarmed by the sight of two dozen flashing red lights, and had threatened to shoot down an unidentified broom rider with his crossbow. Madam Hooch's sharp tongue soon set him straight as to the fact that she was most certainly not an intruder, and that he'd better give that filthy, bloated, overgrown spider of his another talking to about hunting outside the boundaries of his territory in the forbidden forest. Hagrid had apologized profusely--yet again!--for his and Aragog's behavior, and he had promised to give the acromantula a very stern warning about breaking the rules. But the embarrassing memory of the false alarm still burned, for other than Aragog's brood prowling too closely to the edges of the forest, neither of them had found anything unusual or suspicious that night, and Hooch had since then denounced the school's clabberts as being "worse than a bunch of broken sneakoscopes, although they did provide for nice landing lights". McGonagall agreed, saying that they were more paranoid than Mad-Eye Moody and about as unreliable as Trelawney's predictions. Snape had suggested that perhaps the clabberts had sensed a certain trio of students sneaking around after curfew under an invisibility cloak, but Dumbledore reminded him that he had confiscated said cloak from said students.

"Well, I couldn't git Fire Crabs, which are far more interestin'," Hagrid said. "And the winged horses probably won't be here until next year, with deliveries and everythin' getting slowed down and mixed up because of all the goings-on out there."

"Yeh didn't put in an order for more Thestrals I hope?" Filch asked suspiciously.

"Not available," Hagrid said dejectedly. "But we are supposed to be gettin' some fine, fast Granians and about a dozen Aethonans."

"No more Thestrals? Thank heavens for small miracles," Hooch said caustically. "I only hope that manticores and chimaeras remain unavailable. We've had just about every other kind of dangerous creature cross this campus over the last five years."

Hagrid thought about Blast-Ended Skrewts, Aragog, Fluffy, and Norbert and looked sheepish.

"Well, enough about your menagerie. We are running behind as it is."

"Trolls ain't too happy with the extra legwork the headmaster wants them to do," growled Filch. "But we've caught five students breakin' curfew this past week." Filch grinned. "Two second-years, two third-years and a fourth-year. It'll be the last time those little brats go sneakin' off after hours.”

"Somehow, I don't think catching curfew breakers is what Dumbledore had in mind," Hooch said, looking bored. "Do you have anything more substantial to report, Argus, because if not…."

"The Weasley twins weren't among them?" Hagrid interrupted anxiously.

"Nah, haven't seen those two in my office since they got caught pullin' their little stunt with Snape and Deveroux's offices, save for when they tracked snow and mud through the halls a while back," Filch said. "I almost miss 'em. Have to do more of me work meself nowadays, now that they're always in detention with Snape and Deveroux. What, there somethin' we should know about, Rubeus?" the caretaker suddenly looked suspicious.

"No, no," Hagrid said hastily. "I just heard that if they got in trouble again, they'd be expelled."

"Hrmph, pity they ain't been," Filched grumped. "Ol' Dumbledore's too lenient wit 'em. Dippet wouldn'a stood for their shenanigans. An' in the real old days... heh, they'd have been beggin' for detentions wit Snape an' Deveroux as a mercy!"

"I thought yeh said yeh almost miss 'em..." Hagrid began, but Filch cut him off quickly.

"Anyway, the headmaster is trying to get more 'pa-trolls' as he's taken to callin' them." Hagrid chuckled, but Hooch rolled her eyes at the pun. "More river trolls, and perhaps more goblins, if we can afford 'em.”

"And the ghosts?" Hooch prompted impatiently.

"Oh, the ghosts have been obligin', except Peeves, of course," Filch continued. "An' I wish Moanin' Myrtle would button up and quit her wailin' -- she's taken to floodin' all the bathrooms now if somethin' upsets her. An' I think somethin's been upsettin' her a lot lately, but she don't say what. Just bursts into tears, flies inteh the pipes, and the next thing ya know ya got a foot of standin' water all over the place."

"But other than that thing's are all right, exceptin' that, er, unfortunate incident a week ago," Hagrid interrupted, and he turned slightly red. "Hope you aren't still sore about that, Halcyon? T'were an honest mistake. Nothin' else to report, 'xcept what I've already told yeh."

Hooch merely cast the half-giant a disgusted look.

"Oh, and I think we should get a dragon or two," Hagrid added. "They could help you on aerial patrol ...." he said after the other two glared at him.

"Hagrid, you've mentioned that before ... about a dozen times before," Hooch said. "And I still say no. Absolutely not. And the headmaster agrees. No dragons unless we become desperate, and not unless we have a skilled wizard who can handle them properly. And by skilled wizard, I don't mean you. Dragons aren't pets. And if you're having any ideas of keeping another dragon in your cabin so you can leash it and take it for nice long walks through the forbidden forest, think again."

Hagrid started to protest, but as he did so, one of his wildly gesturing hands knocked down a picture of the 1975 Holyhead Harpies team. "Ooops, sorry about that. But ..."

"Hagrid!" Hooch scolded, and she closed her yellow eyes to re-compose herself. "I think we'll meet in your cabin next time to discuss security, It's too cramped in here."

Hagrid looked delighted.

"And at the rate you are going, I won't have an office left before the night is done," Hooch continued waspishly.

Hagrid's face fell again. "Whatever yeh say." He brightened again. "While we are down there, I kin make some snacks. Perhaps some stoat sandwiches or treacle fudge? Or some mushroom caps, perhaps."

"You can't cook, Hagrid," Filch said. "How you eat your own meals without making daily trips to Poppy is beyond me."

"There's nothin' wrong with my cookin'," Hagrid said, a bit hurt.

"No snacks." Hooch said firmly. "We won't have time for it. There is too much that needs to be done. But it's agreed that we'll meet at your cabin tomorrow night. In the meantime I'll ask the headmaster about the possibility of posting more so-called 'pa-trolls'. Filch, Hagrid, besides dragons, is there anything else you might recommend bringing onto campus to help you?"

"Fang and I are doin' all right," Hagrid grumped. He was still sore over the insult about his cooking.

"Find out if Aragog has seen anything suspicious lately, Hagrid. It's possible the spiders may have seen something that night that the unicorns and I missed. Other than that I have nothing else to add, so I guess that's it for tonight." Hooch decided. "In the meantime, remember to keep alert. Just because we haven't found anything doesn't mean something's not lurking out there."

****

Deveroux knocked loudly on Snape's office door and was surprised to hear the quick and unusually enthusiastic--for Snape, that is--response of, "Come in, Aurellia! Come in, you are just in time!" Snape's voice sounded rather distant, and Aurellia supposed that he must be down in his lab, busy making his Jekyll and Hyde potions again.

The Defense teacher turned the knob, pushed open the door, and entered as requested. As she thought, Snape was nowhere to be seen, and so she traipsed over to the half-hidden door to the lab and turned the knob. The door opened without resistance, and once again Aurellia found herself descending the steps into the depths of the dhampire's domain.

Snape did not look up at the elf's approach, for he was preoccupied with pouring a strange lime-green potion from a ladle into a large, plain gold tumbler. And the potion looked to have the consistency of watered-down Jello.

Ick! thought Aurellia. I don't even want to know that's for, what it's made from, or what it tastes like!

"Just about ready," Snape murmured half to himself as he expertly emptied the ladle without spilling a drop, and then dunked it into a silver cauldron that hung above a nearly spent fire. The whole lab, Deveroux noticed, smelled slightly of burnt sugar -- which was not exactly a pleasant smell, but less unpleasant than many of the odors that had come out of Snape's cauldrons in the past. In particular, Aurellia was thinking of elf...or rather, gnome repellant.

"And what, exactly, is ....?" Aurellia started to ask, forgetting momentarily that she really did not want to know, when her eye fell on a large waist-high cabinet and work shelf along the far wall. On top of the cabinet rested a two foot high, two foot wide, and four foot long black-barred cage, and inside the cage resided a rather stunning three-headed snake. The vivid orange reptile was about three and a half feet long from its three heads to the tip of its tail, and it was strikingly marked with bands of black that encircled its body in increasingly narrow strips which progressed from the blunt heads to the tail in increasingly narrow intervals. The left head peered at the elf with a curious gleam in its luminescent, reptilian eyes, almost as if it were sizing her up, deciding whether or not she was a threat and how to react. The middle head had its eyes half-closed, as if it were dreaming or half-asleep. The right head joined the left in staring at Aurellia contemptuously before turning to hiss in scathing serpentine tones to the left head.

"A Runespoor! You have a Runespoor?" Deveroux asked, equally fascinated and unnerved. It was common knowledge that Runespoors were a favorite pet of Dark wizards. Even Aurellia, still fairly new to the Wizarding world, knew that! It was also emphatically stated time and again that any wizard who dared to keep one as a pet should not be trusted. Runespoors, it was whispered in tones of awe and fear, had a way of mastering their masters in time, particularly if the right head were not severed. It was considered very unwise to keep one for more than a year or two. So went the rumors of the Wizarding world, but Aurellia had never heard of any similar Elvin beliefs. Then again, elves had never made a practice of keeping Runespoors as pets.

"Aurellia Deveroux, meet Fidelitas, Spes and Caritas," Snape greeted as he raised the goblet in a mock toast, then took a hesitant sip. "Yes, this will suffice," the Potions master murmured, setting down the goblet.

"Isn't that Latin for...?" Deveroux started to ask with a huge smile. "Wait a minute, are you telling me that you not only keep a Runespoor as a pet, but you have also named it..." she couldn't finish, for she was suddenly overtaken by a fit of giggles. "Faith, Hope and Charity...?" she wheezed at last. "You have a three-headed snake named Faith, Hope, and Charity! You're mad, Snape, do you know that?"

"The name was Hagrid's brilliant idea, not mine," Snape snapped defensively. "He claimed that he found the serpent coiled up in his backpack during a visit to Africa six years ago, but I never believed his tale. I think it much more likely that he purchased it illegally from a poacher in that pub he frequents in Knockturn Alley."

"You aren't talking about the Red Rat, are you?" Aurellia queried.

"Yes, that's the name of it."

"What on earth was Hagrid doing in a dive like that? I may not know my way around Diagon Alley yet--much less Knockturn Alley--but even I have heard about the reputation of that place."

"Oh, have you?" Snape replied with a note of sarcasm, as he lifted a thin black eyebrow. "I wonder what sort of rumors your delicate little elven ears have heard..."

Aurellia glared. "Well, I've heard that they don't care what sort of clientele they serve there, that it's a hangout for low-lifes, Dark wizards, hags, goblins, werewolves, and...well...and vampires," she finished lamely. "So, how many times have you been there?"

"A few," Snape replied vaguely with a shrug, grinning at the indignant look on Aurellia's face. "The management does not ask questions, and they cater to... unusual tastes."

Aurellia grimaced and quickly changed the subject. "So, about the snake," she said. "If it was Hagrid's pet, then how did you end up with it?"

"Well, Hagrid kept his three virtues locked in a small cage behind his cabin until about four years ago, when the Runespoor grew too large to conceal and too dangerous to keep any place where the students might find it. Hagrid didn't want to take a chance on one of the students being bitten." He held up a pale thin finger to the cage, and Caritas, the right head, made a vicious and unsuccessful lunge for it. "As you can see, Runespoors have very sharp, poisonous fangs. A bite from any of the heads can be dangerous, but the right head's venom is especially deadly."

"Deadly?" Deveroux queried, eyeing the Runespoor warily. Hagrid and his pets!

"Oh yes, the venom from the right head can kill you in a matter of minutes, unless you are fortunate enough to have a bezoar handy. Runespoor venom is very valuable on the black market for use in potions such as Silver Asp Precipitate, Blacklotus Nacre and Forever Fallen. Goblins and trolls often use it to coat their spears and arrows, and I can tell you from first-hand observation that some of the human guards at Azkaban are not above using it on their crossbow bolts as well."

"How delightful," Deveroux remarked acidly. "And I doubt Hagrid was the least bit eager to give up his treasured pet. However did you talk him into parting with it?"

"I didn't," Snape replied with an oily tone and an evil grin. "Caritas had far more say in the matter than I did, didn't you my sweet?" He bent over the cage and laid a pale finger on top of the Runespoor's right head, stroking it between its eye ridges. Aurellia half expected the snake to snap at Snape's finger again, but Caritas remained docile, seeming to enjoy the attention of its master. "Hagrid is most fortunate that I was there when it happened and was able to administer an antidote in time. But then, Virtues has always had a habit of behaving more aggressively when I am around."

Aurellia tried unsuccessfully to choke back a noise of disgust. Fidelitas flicked its tongue at her, Spes blinked and went back to dreaming, and Caritas reared its head and snapped at the finger that was stroking it. "Don't take this the wrong way, Snape, but I don't think that I like your idea of what makes a good pet any better than I like Hagrid's"

Snape swiftly withdrew his hand from the Runespoor's reach and laughed while Caritas closed its jaw on empty air and hissed angrily. "You don't spy on the Dark Lord," the dhampire remarked in a soft deadly tone, "unless you like toying with death."

Now thoroughly put off and revolted, a number of caustic retorts crowded into Aurellia's mind. Instead of telling Snape exactly what she thought of him, however, the elf found herself asking instead, "Why do you deliberately court danger?"

If Aurellia surprised herself with the question, it was nothing compared to Snape's reaction. The dhampire turned quickly away from the Runespoor cage and Aurellia, and he paced back and forth before a rack of shelves in the far corner of the lab, pretending to be searching for a particular ingredient. Apparently he had been caught off guard and was trying to think how best to reply to the question.

Aurellia, meanwhile, took the opportunity to look around Snape's lab. She had been down there before, but both times, she had been too preoccupied to pay much attention to her surroundings. Venator, obviously back from a successful evening hunt, was napping contentedly in a cage in the corner of the lab. This was not the same owl cage Aurellia had seen upstairs in Snape's office, the one she had bought along with Venator in Diagon Alley, and she wondered if it was Rasputin's old cage. Apparently Venator went wherever Snape went, and there was probably a third cage in the Potions master's quarters...wherever they were.

Behind Snape's desk and to his right were shelves crammed with potions books. Some were dusty, and indeed, two of the bookshelves were covered in cobwebs and dust, and the elf noticed a large, hairy brown spider with glittering black eyes and long legs industriously weaving a large web in a space between two of the bookshelves. There were two smaller shelves on the left as well as the small fireplace where Snape had just made his latest recipe. One shelf contained a myriad of glass vials, beakers, tubes, droppers and what looked like small burners. The other shelf had jars and containers of what must have been Snape's collection of rare and valuable potions ingredients. Aurellia didn't know what most of these items were, and didn't particularly care to know. A third shelf, so tall that it nearly brushed the ceiling, had four aquariums. In one of the aquariums a dozen brown and white field mice lay dozing or eating, or peering at Snape and Aurellia through the clear walls of their prisons. Another aquarium held three fat, intelligent-looking black rats. The third held a couple of green frogs, newts and small black turtles, and the fourth contained small fish, baby squids, streelers, and other aquatic creatures the Defense teacher couldn't identify without more light and a better vantage point.

There was another set of shelves beneath the staircase, cluttered with more potions ingredients, what looked to be dead eels and fish and a stack of kettles, ladles, and cauldrons on the bottom, ranging in size from a small soupbowl to an enormous black cauldron the size of a round bathtub. There was even a collapsible cauldron and what looked like a new self-stirring Mordred's Mix-Master cauldron--the inside of which still had that brand-new sheen. Obviously Fred and George Weasley had not decimated Snape's entire cauldron collection, but Aurellia would be willing to bet that a significant portion of their 'war reparations' had gone toward the purchase of the Mix-Master.

"I suppose that it is just my nature," Snape said at last as he shrugged and turned empty-handed from his shelves of bottles and ingredients. "Vampires like taking risks; we don't like being tied down, protected. And since we see so much death, I suppose we get a little inured to it."

"You know Snape," Aurellia observed suddenly, "I've noticed that sometimes when you say 'we' you group yourself with humans, and other times you group yourself with vampires. You have habits and characteristics of both races, and yet you don't seem to belong to either one. I was wondering, if you had to choose one or the other, which group would you say you are more like? Humans or vampires?"

"Neither," Snape said testily, perusing the titles on his numerous bookshelves and finally pulling a thin gray book from between two very large dusty tomes. Several strands of sticky cobwebs clung to his hand as he drew the book from its shelf. The dhampire irritably transferred the book to his other hand and wiped the cobwebs away on the hem of his robes. "I am myself. Why must you go about classifying people like species of butterfly? Why must you ask ridiculously simple questions about things that are so complex even the Department of Mysteries has not the time or the funds to study them?"

"You flatter yourself," Aurellia said waspishly. "And there are two ways to study butterflies: chase them with nets then inspect their dead bodies, or sit quietly in a garden and watch them dance among the flowers. I prefer the latter," she concluded, giving the contents of Snape's bottles and jars a disapproving glare.

"Funny," Snape retorted with narrowed eyes, "I would have thought that you preferred the former, only you pursue them to their deaths not with a net but with endless chatter. And I was not speaking only of myself," he said coolly with an irritated sniff. "You oversimplify everything because you have not the patience to understand the subtleties and complexities of the objects of your study."

"Why do elves insist on so many words for the same dratted thing? Why not pick one word and stick to it?" Aurellia retorted. Snape donned the same sort of expression he might have adopted had he just dropped one of his potion bottles on his foot, and he quickly turned his attention to the gray book he had pulled from the shelf.

"So, in which of these cookbooks do you keep the recipe for your runny Lime Jello?" Aurellia asked while Snape impatiently flipped through the pages of his book.

"This one. And the proper term is alchemy books, not cookbooks, and potions formulas, not recipes, child!" Snape corrected impatiently. "And this," he held up the goblet, "is not runny Lime Jello. This is Ediscere. If you cannot master even the most elementary principles of my craft, then at least speak of it respectfully!"

“Touchy touchy! So what is that lime green J...er Ediscere for?" she asked.

Snape rolled his eyes. "Ediscere is a learning and memory enhancing potion," he said at last, "which is particularly effective in stimulating the language center of the brain. But I can only make it once in a great while ..."

"When Faith, Hope and Charity lays an egg," Deveroux deduced, her brow furrowing. "I remember reading something about Runespoor eggs being an ingredient for memory-enhancing potions."

"Ah, so you do know something of my craft in spite of the fact that you dare not practice it lest you inadvertently destroy the school!" Aurellia glared at this as Snape continued, "And by the way, she answers only to Fidelitas, Spes and Caritas. Or Virtues, as I have nicknamed her."

"She???"

"Well of course. You should have read more on the subject, or paid closer attention to what you were reading. All Runespoors are female. That is why they are so venomous. Nature has a wicked sense of humor, do you not agree?"

"Positively hilarious, Snape. So this is how you are going to master Druidish in a single night? With a potion?"

"Precisely, dear child. That is how I have learned many languages in a short period of time. It is a useful skill to be multilingual when one is an agent and a courier and must often go to other countries to network."

"Taking potions is cheating; it's taking a shortcut," Aurellia stated with a scowl, and she folded her arms across her chest.

Snape narrowed his eyes and met the elf's scowl with one of his own. "What you call cheating, I call efficiency! I believe it wise to use all of the tools and skills at my disposal in the most effective and efficient means possible. In case you haven't noticed, war is brewing! Time is of the essence."

"Haven't you ever heard that old expression, you get out of it what you put into it?" Aurellia asked.

"When are you ever going to outgrow your Muggle indoctrination and nonsense about manual labor and realize that the Wizarding world operates by a different set of principles?"

"Perhaps that is precisely why the Wizarding world is such a mess right now," Aurellia retorted.

"You are forever blathering about things you do not understand, foolish girl!" Snape said with a scowl. "You may have been raised by Muggles, but you are no longer one of them! You have never been one of them! So stop spouting their nonsense! When will you cease being so obstinate and impetuous and learn to accept our world as it is, imperfect though it may be! Stop trying to change things!"

"I am only trying to change the things that need to be changed!" Aurellia countered with growing exasperation. "Try seeing your world from an outsider's perspective for once in your life! Wizards are too dependent on cauldrons and wands and quick and simple solutions! Has it never occurred to you that Muggles might have their own brand of humble wisdom which wizards in their ivory towers of arrogance have overlooked?"

Snape looked as if he were going to give a sharp reply, but then stopped and grinned nastily. "If the use of a learning potion offends your muddle-headed Muggle-addled sensitivities, then go away,” he said nonchalantly as he resumed looking at the gray-covered book. “I will find another use for the Ediscere. Perhaps I will study Virtues and Parseltongue instead."

Aurellia stewed for a moment, but decided it would do her no good to argue further. Instead, she sighed and glanced over at Snape, who was looking at her over the top of his book.

"So, what exactly did you want me to teach you about Druidish?" Aurellia finally asked with some reluctance. "I taught law workshops, and I teach Defense Against the Dark Arts. But I have never taught languages, and I honestly don't know where to begin..."

Snape made a face into his goblet. "Quick and simple solutions," he hissed sarcastically. "If you had any idea what this Ediscere tastes like..." He then picked up an ancient-looking, well-worn blue leather-bound book with gold border and embossed gold writing. Snape held up the book for Deveroux, who read the title as it glimmered dimly in the torch light.

"Toh Descreebah bhut Fedhema Lah'mia. The Ballad of Queen Lamia ... Snape, where on earth did you find this? Is the whole thing in Druidish?"

Snape nodded. "It was in the ancient history section of the library. Madam Pince retrieved it for me when I asked for her assistance in locating books about elves. Since it is written entirely in Druidish, I nearly gave up on it, thinking that I would never be able to understand more than a word here and there, such as ‘chiel’ and ‘mortgoh.’"

Aurellia tipped her head and looked thoughtful. She got the distinct impression that Snape was hiding something, but decided not to ask what, since he would only get angry and change the subject. "Yeees," she said slowly, "the ballad of Queen Lamia, I suppose that's a good place to start." She carefully took the book and flipped through the delicate, brittle pages. "But it's also 500 pages long. How much of that learning potion do you have? We will be at this all night."

"Enough," Snape said, and he took another small sip. "One goblet usually lasts anywhere from half an hour to 40 minutes." He sniffed condescendingly as Deveroux fetched a chair from across the lab and placed it next to the desk. "You should use a Summoning spell like a proper witch," the dhampire sneered.

Aurellia shrugged her shoulders and rolled her eyes toward the ceiling in an attempt to conjure up some patience. "I've mastered the Summoning charm, just like any 'proper witch', but I prefer not to use it unless I feel like it. It doesn't take that much more effort to pick up a chair, Snape. Sometimes, I think magic makes things too easy for us. Then when a real challenge comes along, like Voldemort or Mortgona or a goblin rebellion, we are unprepared to face it."

"Spoken most unlike an elf and much more like a Muggle-raised fool," Snape said, his upper lip curling into a sneer.

Who are you to tell me how elves speak? Aurellia thought indignantly, but aloud she asked instead, "Do you want to learn Druidish or are we going to stand here and argue all night? Weren't you the one who was complaining about wasting time?"

"Yes, yes, very well, let us begin!" The sneer quickly disappeared and Snape looked at the cover. "Tell me about the spelling of 'Lah'mia' in this book, Aurellia. I have also seen it spelled 'Lamia'. What is the difference?"

"Oh, it's more of a difference between Old Elvish and Druidish," Aurellia replied. "After Lamia's death, King Luk tried to work more with human wizards, and the change from Old Elvish to Druidish started early in his reign. Lah'mia is usually what you would see in Old Elvish texts -- which I doubt exist anymore -- and formal writings such as the ballad."

Snape idly thumbed through the pages. "Well, where should we begin?"

"How about the beginning?"

"That is the most sensible thing you have said all evening."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Snape," Aurellia said as she peered over the ivory surface of the first page and studied the italic print. "Toh mortgone ghental fada teineru, bohen nhukmor'neh mortget Borjigon ehroon dhutial luralatt. En'quepahno neh'ahrameen, sizu'lah damaht," she recited, the elfish words coming easily to her, though the memories they summoned threatened to overwhelm her. On the night she first came to the orphanage, Luk had snuck into the girls' dorm in the middle of the night and recited to her the first hundred pages of the Ballad of Queen Lamia from memory. The frightened and bewildered elf girl had been instantly comforted by Luk's company, and she had fallen asleep listening to the sound of his voice …

"Aurellia?" Snape inquired, noticing the elf's sudden distant expression.

"Er, did you understand any of that?" Aurellia asked quickly, shoving the long-forgotten and newly reawakened memory of Luk into the furthest back corner of her mind.

"I recognize some of the words," Snape said. "Mortgone, isn't that death or dark? Teineru is time. And damaht means relative, correct?”

"Close. Mortgone is darkness. Mortgon is dark, unless it is refering to a person, such as a Dark wizard then it's 'murtget.' Murtgen is death. Damaht is 'brother,' and 'rhishah,' by the way, is sister. The whole sentence translated is 'The darkness came long time ago, when Evil, in dark Borjigon, found a willing host. And he clasped it to his soul like a brother.’”

Snape nodded. "Please, continue." He took another sip from his goblet as Aurellia continued to read.

"'Nuh furnahl, nuh zhuke, nuh sorat muulehre'neh, qu'neh aateel muulehreh muhnala shel neh nhukmor.' His curiosity, his greed, his thirst consumed him as he tried to consume the world with his evil. Nuh luh premah mhuret sheltoh kazataken toh phal..."

"Sheltoh?" Snape asked, brow furrowed.

"It translates to 'with the'," Aurellia replied as she read over the ballad. “The sentence reads 'He cast his first shadows with the Betrayal of the Nine.'"

"So, this tells, at least briefly, of the Betrayal of the Nine," Snape said as he looked over the words. "Is it true that after this event, nine was considered a cursed number, associated with Darkness?"

"In more superstitious circles, yes," Aurellia replied. "But arithmancy was not studied in great depth in my village, and the notion of 'unlucky numbers' was little more than a playground superstition for children to tease each other in my village. I think by my great-grandmother's generation most sensible Elves scoffed at the idea of the number nine being unlucky."

"Curious," Snape murmured. "I am inclined to agree with you about the number nine. I do not believe there is any substance to the superstition. But I quite disagree about the concept of Arithmancy. There are many defensive charms and fell curses associated with the numbers seven and six respectively. Four is considered unstable, a number associated with tragedy, betrayal, and war. You have heard of the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse? Yes, I know we have four houses at Hogwarts, but then look at what happened to Salazar Slytherin. Twelve is the number of completeness; we divide our days and nights into twelve hours each, and our years into twelve months. And Muggles have good reason to fear the number 13. It seems to attract death."

Aurellia still thought that Arithmancy was superstitious nonsense, but decided not to say so since she'd only be inviting another scathing remark about not understanding things in the wizarding world. Instead Aurellia shrugged and continued reading. "Nehres phal, bhen leihia Fedhem Altur en nuh Fedhema Lehiua abahten shel nehret abriha, rete kazatak nehret murtgenes. Those nine, whom good King Altur and his queen Lehuia trusted with their lives, betrayed them to their deaths. Toh Sudre'nehcuena! Bridden eahrelen toh Sudre'nehcuena! The Seeing Pool! Oh terrible tidings of the Seeing Pool ..."

"Seeing Pool?" Snape asked and he took another sip from the goblet. "What is this?"

"Some sort of oracle the elves went to," Aurellia said. "Some books suggest that it may have been the Greek oracle at Delphi, but in my village school the teachers said that it was more likely an enchanted mirror or well located somewhere in Portugual, since the largest European elf populations and Duendeseil were once located in that country. The Seeing Pool was destroyed by Borjigon shortly after Lamia became queen. She was one of the last to have her fortune told by it. Her parents had taken her there as an infant as was custom. And although it is not part of the actual ballad, it is often said that Lamia's mother, Queen Nhona, declared a Royal Mourning immediately thereafter because the prophecy was so dark."

"What did the Seeing Pool show them that was so terrible?" Snape asked.

"It says right here, in these next few lines. Ath moatalbe toh murtgon du voheten Gadenn. Ath moatalbe toh murtgon du'neh Fedhema Nhona. Ath moatalbe toh murtgon du honare Lah'mia. Ath moatalbe toh murtgon du tal efentes toh mortgone. Ath moatalbe toh murtgon du'ahtzee, en toh veteha jehl mahagahnt. It reflected the death of their son Gadenn. It reflected the death of his queen Nhona. It reflected the death of the brave Lah'mia. It reflected the destruction of the elves by the darkness. It reflected the death of itself, and the future turned cloudy."

"I did not think it possible that any seer could be more gloomy than Sibyll Trelawney," Snape said.

"Yes, and unlike most of Professor Trelawney's predictions, all of these came true. The Seeing Pool never lied," Aurellia said gloomily. "The elves very nearly lost the battle with Borjigon. Some would argue that they never truly recovered after that, despite King Luk's best efforts. Regardless, about 2,000 years after this battle, today ...." Aurellia let the thought trail off. She sighed sadly and continued reading.

"Toh whas Fedhem Gadenn duhneh Fedhema toh premah zabetten Borjigon du zabet en neh derrot, toh ahram-epaht, neret mortgotten leheru chusu grataka eabant, neret nhuku reehelme chusu tabatah bridden uxariet. The new king Gadenn and his queen were the first to fight Borjigon's war and his demons, the soul eaters -- or soul removers -- whose dark cloaks hide corrupted, misshapen bodies, whose black hoods hide their terrible curse."

"Ahram-epaht...soul removers...Dementors?" Snape asked.

"I think so," Aurellia shrugged. "It sure sounds like Dementors. And we know that their evil is very ancient."

"Well, it is possible then that Dementors have been around for more than 2,000 years. Interesting," Snape said softly, and he upended his goblet-- and realized that it was empty.

"Need a refill already?" Aurellia asked with a grin.

"You might say that," Snape replied with a hint of irritation as he left his chair and walked over to the cauldron. He ladled another generous portion of the lime green potion into his goblet and returned to his chair.

Aurellia giggled as Snape resumed sipping from his goblet and making faces of disgust. "I thought you would be used to the taste by now," she pointed out with a grin.

"One never 'gets used to' the disgustingly sweet taste of Ediscere. Especially if one's usual appetites run more toward..." and here the dhampire abruptly interrupted himself and changed the subject. "I thought this was the ballad of Queen Lamia?" he asked impatiently. "When does she enter the story?"

"Well, most of the first one hundred pages covers her grandparents Altur and Lehuia, and then her parents, Gadenn and Nhona and their battles," Aurellia said. "The ballad doesn't get to Lamia’s coronation and reign until about a quarter of the way through. So you see, Snape, not all elves are as impatient as you like to suggest. My ancestors were willing to take the time to tell a story properly, even if it does seem a little slow in places." The elf quickly flipped ahead through the book. "But since you are in such almighty hurry..."

"I do not have an infinite supply of this potion, Deveroux."

"Here we go," she said finally. "This is where the part about Lamia begins. Zabetiene Gadenn sinloiuahn. Nuhen nonare Nhona benhuten fateinu toh derrot Borjigon murtegen haloham drieka casiellet neheretok. Gadenn's struggle was in vain. He and brave Nhona fell before the demons of Borjigon, dying together trying to save each other. Er'miena rezzaht fedkalet brehel Lah'mai grallen detabe compunen. It was a cold crown young Lamia was to wear for 15 years."

"Brehel," Snape said thoughtfully. "I thought that meant 'child' or 'little boy'"

"It does," Aurellia said. "It can mean 'little boy,' but usually it means a child of either sex. 'Breeha' is girl, but it's usually only used as a term of affection, or by an exasperated mother scolding her daughter. I heard that word a lot."

"Imagine that, tepale breeha," Snape said, and he grinned wickedly.

Aurellia crossed her arms and arched her right eyebrow. "Cute, Snape, but I think you mean TEHpale, not tePAle. Tehpale is pretty. Tepale doesn't mean anything except that you need to work on your pronunciation. Tsk! A most shameful disgrace for a perfectionist pureblood wizard!"

"You are a fine one to call me perfectionist, elf princess!" Snape groused, but the grin didn't entirely disappear. "So... how old was Lamia when she became queen, TEHpale Breeha?"

"No one knows," Aurellia shrugged. "Some say she could have been as young as 34 or 35 when she died, which is young even in human terms. Some argue she could have been as old as 170 by the time of the Last Battle, but most say she was much younger. The use of 'brehel' to describe her would seem to indicate a younger age."

Aurellia continued reading. "Ubraze mhena efentes toh leehemmen Combure, hent tuvii mhena ohulu luhn'linkhut en ahkten Duendeseil, toh ahkeneret fedelahtten efent-penue betruuve feluk'leienluh. Taking her people to the fields of Combure -- many believe this is Coimbra, in Portugal -- she places her hope in unity and in the fastness of great Duendeseil, the mightiest fortress ever built by elven hand, and guarded by the most powerful elven magic. Liukieta Duendeseil, ryal delaht ghel enne briialu uburet! Gleaming Duendeseil, noble castle with your alabaster walls! B'enne kuulat benhuten toh mortgone. May you never fall to the darkness."

"A noble sentiment," Snape mused, "but a vain one. Duendeseil did fall, didn't it? Not then, during the reign of Lamia, but 1,000 years later, when Lady Mortgona attacked and destroyed it."

"Yes," Aurellia agreed sadly. "That was truly the beginning of the end of the elves. Between Mortgona and the Elf-Wizard wars and the earlier Elven civil wars, their numbers plummeted. Although admittedly, they were destroyed more from within the walls than outside.

"'Lahmia nabate toh fed'lehne bhut Duendeseil suhkenol het'efentes. Mien suhkunt toh furnated dul luh'linkhut eebe toh mortget, en'nher zheerant amiena.' Lamia called on the power of Duendeseil to protect her people. She sought the knowledge of unity against the dark, and this was granted to her."

"'Sought the knowledge of unity?' That seems like peculiar phrasing," Snape remarked.

"I confess, I'm taking an educated guess with 'luh'linkhut.' 'Khutabi' is 'unite,' and 'luh' -- definitely a Druidish word -- is the abbreviated word for 'luk'lei.' What's puzzling is that usually you only see the abbreviated 'luh' in an incantation."

"Perhaps she was searching for a spell to unite her people under her control, a sort of elven Imperius, perhaps?"

Aurellia shrugged again. "I honestly don't know. I doubt she would have used mind control, from what I have read in the histories. But she was in a desperate position toward the end. Perhaps she felt it necessary to use such a spell. I doubt we will ever know for certain. 'Khur bent nahted toh zubre curuss -- delet huut murtgon setoh seelan vitula.' But she knew the heavy price -- some must die for the rest to live. 'Ga! Zubre curuss! Ga! remiienet fedhema, nuub behtreken het'ahram wavatoh pateenet er'rezzaht'eb rezahka.' Oh, heavy cost! Oh, sorrowing queen, who locked her heart away fast, becoming as cold as snow. Keep in mind, Snape, 'ga!' is an expression of lament, like 'oy!' or 'alas!'"

"So noted," Snape said as he took a sip from his goblet.

Aurellia continued. "'Wuro Luk nhatubo toh lessoruh het ahraliem shel rushon-ahm.' Only Luk had the means of thawing her affections with love."

Snape's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I thought 'ameen' meant love, or something like that."

"It's 'Ah-MINE' The 'i' doubled sounds like the long 'i' in English, like 'ice cream.' You really ...."

"Need to work on pronunciation," Snape finished with a feigned yawn.

"But you are right," Aurellia continued. "Ahmiinh is love, but more like a love between husband and wife, between lovers. Rushon-ahm, literally translated, is 'brotherly love.' There are some twenty-five words that elves used to describe love in all its variations."

"So, how many more pages are there until we get to the infamous Last Battle?" Snape asked hastily, cutting off what looked to be the beginning of yet another seminar on Elvin synonyms... and Snape was not interested in learning all twenty-five Elvin words for love and all of their subtle differences in meaning. Most assuredly, he was not!

"Ah yes, the most famous part of the Ballad," Aurellia said as she flipped towards the back of the book. "I remember in our school, the older students had to memorize that section of the Ballad and then repeat it before the class. I remember some of my older friends being so nervous about it. It's quite long, and they weren't allowed to use potions like Ediscere. Luk..." she sighed, gathered her courage and continued. "Luk recited the whole Ballad. All five hundred pages. Every day from morning to recess for three and a half weeks. This and the Elven Riddle Song were two things every elf was required to learn no matter what village they were raised in. Because the elders always told us that someday, somehow, Borjigon would return to destroy us. And the only way to defeat him for good was to learn from the mistakes of the past and to understand the Ballad and the Riddle handed down to us by our ancestors."

"The Elven Riddle ...?" Snape started to ask, but Aurellia had already begun to read.

"Toh uutii bieten toh bridden fedenel Borjigon Kha'Khan, er mortgon, uvii, efkint.' In the last days of the terrible reign of Borjigon Kha'Khan, it was dark, indeed, for elfkind...or the elven race, or elven kindred, if you prefer. Wuro ahkien Duendeseil viri liunkieta en pu'worhu toh mortgon Dhak Borjogon en'neh nhuruket, zhukene penuen. Only great Duendeseil stood gleaming and untouched by the Dark Lord Borjigon's wicked, grasping hands. Zhukene does not have an exact translation...but depending on context I would say it means greedy, gluttonous, or grasping...always reaching for something more and never finding contentment."

"And 'Dhak' means lord, then? Was this a title like Fedhem or Fedhema?" Snape asked.

Aurellia shook her head. "No, there really was no formal noble class," she said. "Just the Fedhes, or those of royal blood. And after King Luk's death, there were the Fedhemenes, or council, with King Luk's daughter Elmaris as its head."

"Elmaris," Snape murmured thoughtfully. "Yes, I remember reading about her. She was the leader of the elves during the first unity between wizard and elf to defeat Mephistopheles in 410. She worked with Merlin himself. Her twin son and daughter took over leadership after her passing."

Aurellia nodded. "That is correct. Actually, the position of the head of the Fedhemenes became inherited from one ruling generation to the next, which was one of the reasons for the Elvin civil war later. But back to the subject at hand -- there was never a rigid caste or feudal system. Elvin society was very egalitarian until after the last civil war when it began to stratify because of the divisions among our people. But you were asking about Dhak, which means 'dark lord' or 'evil tyrant.' Voldemort, for example ..."

Snape got up to refill his goblet and said nothing in response.

"'Reh exucar, toh briialu fedelahtten luk'lei, Borjigon ubures nuh zabaxaten," Aurellia continued. “Nuh ahram-epaht, nuh gepeet, nu xorute-mhurgot, nuh yiitii, nuh nosferatu -- halut compleset toh uuttii federl efentes tahna mhurnu jepe bot ahktenu wevedo culupen toh seelanen efentes.' Yet here, too, at the alabaster fortress of light, Borjigon did gather his armies -- his soul suckers, his goblins, his vampires, his giants, his nosferatu -- all encircled the last stronghold of the elves like a black net or a great noose, ensnaring the remaining elves." Aurellia looked up, puzzled. "This is one passage that always puzzled me. It mentions xorute-mhurgot...."

"Vampires," Snape said. "It literally translates to 'blood-death,' right?"

"You are learning," Aurellia commented. "That's exactly right. But it also mentions nosferatu...."

"I think I know where this is going," Snape said with a rather annoyed sigh, returning to his chair with a full goblet. "It's a common Muggle misconception that vampires and nosferatu are synonymous. Even wizards, who ought to know better, think that vampires are a type of nosferatu. They are not. It may seem thus because vampires are very difficult to kill, they do not age as other beings and have been known to live more than 700 years. And a vampire can bring back someone from the brink of death if ... if they so choose. But this does not make them immortal, godlike, or nosferatu despite what a certain 500-year-old self-styled Queen of the Vampires might like to think."

"Are you talking about the Lady Ilantha?"

"Among others. Count Vlad Dracula had an infamous fascination with death and coffins, and this has served to contribute to the erroneous mythology surrounding vampires."

"But you hear so many tales of zombies in the Muggle world," Aurellia said.

"Yes, and I imagine most of those stories are 50 percent false and 49.9 percent rumor," Snape said. "True nosferatu do exist in our world, Aurellia, but they are very rare, and they are neither vampires nor zombies. Pray that you never meet one..." he paused for a moment, his thoughts far away, and a shadow of fear and sadness seemed to pass over his features. "They are the substance of nightmares."

There was an uncomfortable silence before Aurellia continued.

"Sisuh toh prit Fedhamohsi, toh nhaterenel veohten ..." Aurellia read.

"Fedhamohsi???" Snape asked, his eyes wide. "Surely not the same Fedhamohsi who drove Lucius Malfoy from the school grounds?"

"Unlikely, since this story is 2,000 years old," Deveroux said. "I know the Fedhamohsi we know is old, older than even Dumbledore. But two millennia old? I doubt it!

"Unicorns were always shy and skittish, even around elves. In Lamia's day, there used to be Elvin archers who rode unicorns, and the Centaurs were ever our allies, but even then they were too proud to allow riders. But I digress -- Fedhamosi is probably a common name, or a title the elves gave to the leader of the unicorns.

"Sisuh toh prit Fedhamohsi, toh nhaterenel veohten, en toh aktulinen zabaxaten filde'nin ravoh yoruutene. Even the one Fedhamohsi, the wisest of beings, and the armies he led could not drive them back. Pritapri, Fedhema Lah'mia nabute het'efentes alinkhut, aventul prit gohnasa, en'nehret telmi breravan toh yabezeeke mortgon zabaxaten. One by one, Queen Lamia called on her people to unite, to become one with others, and they were able to hold back the encroaching dark armies. Khur toh ixgrahtii puuneneh seh biaten, bahmen, mumen -- ateen anomon tehmune, entoh makhent vetoh siilah memet lamana Duendeseil jenehr. But the battle dragged on for days, weeks, months -- nearly a year passed and the enemy was at the very gate of fair Duendeseil itself."

Snape remained silent, sipping from his goblet, as Aurellia continued with the story.

"Fedhema Lah'mia gorzahle nabate nonarenete en tenereten, en'nehret rebusa. Queen Lamia desperately called on the bravest and strongest, and they answered. Khur duome'un, en duome'un, en duome'un kadahau'nin duomenhen sluure toh mortgon ofumo, en seelee mhurtgen e'istia. But one more and one more and one more could do no more than slow the Dark Tide, and many perished in light. Lah'mia kiilenula mien'esahnte, mien duyabul icruta bhen hent'ret breehee poru miena medama vanaben. Lamia then remembered her vision -- although I think a more accurate translation would be 'her prophecy' -- made when she was a mere babe in her mother's arms. Hent kiilenu toh sudre'neh'cuehna espahnte -- hent tebe murtgo a'istia en alinkhit. She remembered the seeing pool's vision -- that she would die in light and unity. Hent ubrele het'efentes mien complesu -- premah fal, duome ahke, duome nopat en ifiident. En toh Ahktenu Fedhema Lamia luhn'linkhai tohla emba prit ahmahzu fureht. So she gathered her people around her -- first five, then seven, then ten and more. And the Great Queen Lamia unified them all into one overwhelming force. 'Rehmerla ohma tuele efkint, Fedhema Lamia jorestene caurek en chiel, e'bahlakha Luk'lei na morgtono el'eithe Borjigon e fuernonasono.' Renewed by the living ring of her people, Queen Lamia became both sword and shield, and she rose in Light against the Dark to conquer Borjigon and his horde."

"Yes," Snape murmured, and he took another sip. "I remember that line. I remember reading it ... somewhere, a long time ago."

"It is probably the best known," Aurellia said. "Where did you read it?"

"I don't recall," Snape said quickly. "The ballad, it is almost finished, right?"

"Yes," Aurellia replied. "Only a few more lines. En toh mortgone kadahounenal troxyehnt toh rallakhe luk'lei mien teneral, mien nareten, mien murtegun. And the darkness could not withstand the incredible light of her strength, her courage, her sacrifice. Borjigon nuh'ravah yoruutene en guutaez, en'nuh zabaxaten pamhuerten cene tetiene xeketet nehret ghuten dahkhur zukell. Borjigon was driven back and vanquished, and his armies perished or ran in terror as they saw their master fall. Nin mortgo'eahnebes neheet busuro hatu; toh culua hunee neheret potanug ugan sohra rit brideht, sienul en viikat. No Dark words on their lips now; the only sound their tongues gave voice to was fear, loss and defeat. Toh efentes, jeekacad sasahto evial bohlaron ner'Borjigon entoh mortgone anomonen, aprement consuren en casteret nehret plada tofeten vele Fedhem Luk toh Nhataden. The elves, bidding a relieved and joyous farewell to Borjigon and the Dark Years, started to rebuild and restore their fair cities under King Luk the Wise."

"I thought eh'gonarashu meant goodbye," Snape asked. "Do not tell me that there are 50 words -- each with a slightly different meaning -- for this as well."

"No Snape," Aurellia said huffily as she frowned at the dhampire. "There are only two. Eh'gonarashu is the more common one, and it means 'goodbye,' with the assumption that the parties will see each other again. While I don't know a lot about the spiritual beliefs of elves in general, in my village it was customary to use eh'gonarashu in our elven farewell ceremony for those who have died. We were taught that when we die, our souls will go to another place to be with all those who have gone before us. Bohlaron implies an eternal parting -- you don't expect to see the other party again in this life or the next. Or, in this case I would assume that it means they hoped never to meet Borjigon again in this life or the next.

"Basasei plada Duendeseil eealeta, basasei toh ahrame en ahtiahl, netefentes nehre'nin previxet, tiparne toh efentes prit'biat havorulen marades tupari, rhelii en fadlere teineru. This is the saddest line, considering what happened later: So long as fair Duendeseil stands, so long as the heart and soul of its people are not compromised, may the elves one day flourish and prosper again now and for all time.

"But as you observed Snape, Duendeseil did fall, 1,000 years after Lamia's death."

"So that's it? That's the end?"

"Well, that's how the Ballad ends. But as we both know, history moves on with many eh'gonarashus and bohlarons along the way. Well, I think that is enough of the Ballad for now," Deveroux decided dryly. "Do you have any other pressing questions about Druidish, or shall we call it a night?"

Snape stared hard at the elf for a moment as if he were weighing a grave decision, and his eyes were guarded, haunted. "No to both, Miss Deveroux," he said at last. "I think that I have learned enough Druidish to get on with my studies. Now I wish to learn Borjitok."

Deveroux's jaw dropped as she gave the Potions master a withering glare of pure outrage, and spluttered incoherently with a mix of fury and horror.

Recovering her voice at last she shouted, "WHAT????"

End of Chapter 32