Chapter II

They Apparated in front of the Posada del Clavero. It was a rustic inn, with bare stone walls and a yellowed wooden signboard. The river Tormes ran behind it, nestled between green fields dotted here and there with leafy trees.

Entering the inn, they found themselves in a commodious hall, all in bare stone like the outside walls. On the right, there was a portrait of a man with a mane of jet-black hair, pointy nose, curled moustache, and a cheerful, festive air.

The reception counter was on the opposite side, on the left. An old man with grey hair and spectacles lifted his eyes to them and smiled. "Buenas tardes, señores! Espero que hayan tenido un buen viaje."

"Muy bien, gracias,"* replied Snape.

Harry hated Snape even more for speaking Spanish. When Harry had phoned, the old man (Harry recognised his voice) had spoken in English - with a slight accent, but rather fluently. Now, because Snape insisted on speaking in Spanish, Harry could barely understand what they were saying. Yet, Harry decided to keep calm and not say anything. He knew Snape was trying to upset him, and he wouldn't give him that pleasure. Finally, the old man - whose name was Alejandro Clavero, from what Harry could understand - handed Snape the key to their room and nodded at Harry.

Snape led Harry through a corridor to a wooden staircase. "There are no lifts, but luckily the house has just two floors. Our room is on the upper floor."

Our room. It was a very unlikely combination of words, coming from Snape's mouth.

At the end of the staircase, there was a corridor leading to five rooms all on the same side, except for the last one, which faced the corridor. The last one was their room.

Snape opened the door, and Harry followed him into a spacious, neat and apparently cosy room. The bare stone walls gave the room a rustic appearance, and a double bed made from antique pine, its high headboard carved with arabesques, dominated the space.

Snape slowly pivoted on his heel to face Harry. "Didn't you say you had asked for two beds?"

"I did! Damn. Maybe the old man didn't understand what I said. I'll go down and ask him to change it, or send an extra bed."

"Stay here. You can't speak Spanish. I will go and talk to Señor Clavero."

Harry put his rucksack on a round table, also in antique pine, and walked to the window. He pushed the curtain aside and was glad to see that the window faced the river - its silver-blue waters flowing swiftly between its green banks - and the mountains behind it. Harry opened the window to breathe the fresh air. A soft breeze caressed his face.

He was still admiring the landscape when he heard someone shutting the room door and turned to find Snape looking at him. "So?"

"Señor Clavero is deeply sorry and regrets to inform us that he doesn't have an extra bed available. He said the inn is full: the guests came for the Easter holidays and intend to stay until Lunes de Aguas. He explained that many families rent just one room, to spare costs, and ask for extra beds for the children."

"But he told me by phone that the room would have two beds!"

"He misinterpreted you. He understood you wanted a bed for two."

"Grr. What a moron. Well, we can always transfigure something into a bed."

"I will not sleep in a transfigured bed. As you know, transfigured objects are very unstable. I will not run unnecessary risks."

"Well, I don't want to run unnecessary risks either."

"This debate is fruitless. You will leave your bag here and accompany me to Salamanca. Perhaps one of us will die tonight; this way we will not have to face the dishonour of sharing a bed," said Snape, in a mixture of rage and sarcasm that surprised Harry.

"We can always hope to solve the case and go back home tonight instead," countered Harry.

"Gryffindor optimism: completely unrealistic." Snape walked to the window bench where he had put his holdall. He opened the zipper of the leather holdall, took out two books and turned again to Harry. "Are you ready?"

"Yes."

Snape opened one of the books, a magical tourist guide of Salamanca. He showed Harry a map and pointed to a green area near the centre of the city, by the old Roman walls. "We will Apparate here. In this garden."

"The Huerto de Calixto y Melibea?"

"Precisely. Give me your arm."

"Why?"

"It will be safer if we side-Apparate under your Invisibility Cloak. Don't tell me you haven't brought it with you!"

Harry slipped a hand into his jeans pocket and pulled out the wrinkled Cloak. Snape seized it from his hands and, pulling Harry by the arm, put it on their heads.

Harry Apparated right beside an Acanthus bush, and the thorns brushed against his hip. Luckily, he was protected by his Cloak and his jeans. Snape was at his side, having comfortably landed on a shrub whose smooth leaves seem to recoil at his touch.

Harry glared at him.

"What is it, Potter, didn't you choose a proper place to land?"

"Very funny. I bet you did this on purpose. You're so nasty that even the plant is flinching from you."

"It's a mimosa, also called touch-me-not. Its leaves are sensitive to touch."

Harry resisted the urge to stick his tongue out at Snape and walked away from the Acanthus. He found himself in a lush garden with olive trees, cypresses, acacias, walnut trees, mulberry trees, and hundreds of other trees and shrubs whose names he didn't know. "What a beautiful garden. Look, a well!"

"The legend says it was here that Melibea and Calixto met for the first time, and fell in love with each other."

"Have you been reading romance novels lately?" asked Harry sardonically.

"I did my homework in the last two days, and researched the city's legends."

"And how does Calixto and Melibea's story end?"

"Badly. For everyone. Even for Celestina, the most interesting character."

"Who was Celestina?"

"Celestina was a notorious procuress and, apparently, a Potions mistress. She was the one who made Melibea fall in love with Calixto, by means of a potion."

Harry looked at Snape with curiosity. "I thought you disapproved of love potions."

"I vehemently disapprove of them." Snape arched an eyebrow. "However, considering Celestina was a Muggle, her skills were admirable."

Harry couldn't help smiling. He had to admit that sometimes Snape could be funny.

"Come on. We don't have all day," said Snape.

"Where are we going?"

"To the Cueva de Salamanca, of course."

"Didn't you say we would have to wait for darkness?"

"We will have to wait to enter there. However, it is always prudent to verify the location and explore the surroundings in advance."

Snape led him along a path among the trees to a gazebo. From there, they could see the river and part of the city. It was a splendid view.

Then they walked down the Cuesta de Carvajal, a wide passageway of shallow stone stairs that led to the Cueva. Finally they stopped in front of the wires that blocked the access to a huge Roman arch.

"This is the entrance to the ancient church of San Cebrián, one of the first churches built as part of the Christian repopulation of Salamanca in the 12th century. The church was tucked into the Roman wall of the city," explained Snape, consulting his guide book.

"And the Cueva is the crypt of this church."

"The church was torn down in the 16th century, and most of its stones were used in the building of Salamanca's New Cathedral. This Roman arch remained miraculously intact, however. All that remained was half of the sacristy and the 23 stairs descending into the darkness of the crypt."

"Wicked!"

"It's also wicked, as you put it, that San Cebrián was a wizard before converting to the Christianity."

"So he was a traitor to the Wizarding World."

"I suppose you can consider him as such, from the point of view of the Wizarding World." Snape looked around. "There is nothing else to be seen here, for now. We can go back to the inn and wait for dinner time, which will be about ten o'clock..."

"What?! Ten o'clock?"

"Yes. In Spain, people tend to have dinner late. It's perfect timing for us, as the sun will set by nine o'clock. As soon as we finish dinner, we will come back here."

"But it's too early. If we go back to the inn, we'll have nothing to do. Why don't we take a walk and see a little of the town? I'd like to see the two cathedrals, for instance."

Snape stared at him, as if puzzled and a bit tense. Then he smirked. "Funny. I would not have expected you to be interested in cathedrals, Mr Potter."

"Oh, there are a lot of things you don't know about me."

They walked along Calle del Silencio until the Patio Chico, where the two cathedrals could be seen together. The streets were full of tourists and young people.

It was an impressive view: both cathedrals were magnificent. Snape told Harry the Old Cathedral had been built between the 12th and the 14th centuries and mixed the Romanesque and the Gothic styles. The Romanesque constructions were very heavy and used barrel or groin vaults in the ceiling. Due to the weight of the stone ceiling, the wall of the church had to be very thick. Windows had to be small to keep weight-bearing walls strong, and the church's interior was dim. This was not solved until the Gothic style arrived, with its pointed arches and large stained-glass windows. The Gothic style, especially the Flaming Gothic, emphasized verticality and featured almost skeletal stone structures with great expanses of glass. So, the Old Cathedral was a strange mixture of heavy and light elements.

What most caught Harry's attention was the dome of the Old Cathedral.

"This dome is called Torre del Gallo, or Tower of the Cock," said Snape, a sneer on his face.

Was that an innuendo? Harry brushed the idea aside and ignored it. "I see. It must be on account of the weathercock on its top."

"In fact, it is a Byzantine-inspired gadrooned dome on a double tambour," recited Snape, reading his guide book, "covered by scales of slate".

"Uh-huh... If you say so!"

Snape described each detail of the Old Cathedral external walls with exotic words like "tympanum", "trumeau" and "oculus", making Harry roll his eyes.

The New Cathedral was bigger, and had been constructed attached to the Old one, leaning on its north wall.

"The New Cathedral was constructed conserving the Old one, an unusual procedure at that time. As it was constructed between the 16th and 18th centuries, it is a blend of Late Gothic and Baroque," read Snape. "The dome and the upper part of the belfry are Baroque."

Near the north entrance of the New Cathedral, Harry approached to observe the miniature carvings that run in long stripes on the facade. There were carvings of bulls, gargoyles, rabbits, pigs, an astronaut...

"Hey, look at this! What's an astronaut doing on the facade of a 16th century church?"

"Cathedrals require constant maintenance and restorations," explained Snape, but he didn't sound very sure.

Harry shook his head, unyieldingly. An astronaut on the facade of a Gothic cathedral was complete nonsense.

As the only entrance to the Old Cathedral was through the New Cathedral, they entered the New Cathedral. Harry stared in awe at the Flaming Gothic towers and the dramatic vaults. Yet, Harry was even more impressed with the Old Cathedral. In the main altar of the central chapel, there was an amazing set of panels displaying events in the life of Christ and the Virgin.

"What do you know about these panels?" Harry asked Snape, profiting from his personal tourist guide.

"It is a retablo, or an altarpiece, formed by 53 panels painted by Nicolás Florentino in the 15th century."**

In the semi-dome alcove above the panels, a fresco of bright colours, also by Florentino, portrayed the Last Judgment.

Harry was still admiring the fresco when bells chimed nine. "I'm hungry."

"Let's go back to the inn and ask if they are serving dinner yet," said Snape.

When they arrived at the inn, Mr Clavero received them with his habitual smile. He told them they started serving dinner at eight-thirty and escorted them personally through the corridor to the restaurant, always talking to Snape in Spanish.

The restaurant was in a high ceiling room, in rustic style - bare walls bathed in the golden light of chandeliers. The floor was paved in decorative Spanish tile and the ceiling adorned with coppery terra cotta. A wooden counter topped with glass jars containing olives, onions and all kinds of pickles concealed the kitchen's door and shelves lined with wine bottles. Huge chunks of lomo (a cured pork sausage) and cured ham hung above the counter. Snape explained that that was a tradition in Spain, and that Salamanca was the land of pork and beef.

However, as it was Friday, the dishes of the day were all fish based. They decided to share a merluza con chipirones (hake with squids). According to the brunette waitress who seemed unable to take her dark eyes from Snape, the portion was large enough for two. Accompanying the dish, vieras com amanitas (disgusting clams with mushroom, in Harry's translation), that Harry didn't even try, verduritas salteadas (vegetables sautés) and pasta fresca con setas (a tasty pasta with mushrooms).

Snape had ordered a white wine, "Palacio de Rueda", and when he first tasted it, he closed his eyes in pleasure. Harry gaped at him. He had never seen Snape pleased about anything.

"Sublime," murmured Snape, in a low, velvety voice that elicited a physical reaction in Harry.

His own reaction left Harry worried and confused.

Seeing Harry's astonished look, Snape shook his head. "You are too young to appreciate a good wine."

Relieved that Snape had misinterpreted his reaction, Harry finally tasted the beverage that had evoked such an enthusiastic response from Snape and... wasn't impressed at all.

"I thought you despised Muggle things."

Snape glared at him. "So this is how you see me. Of course. As I was once a Death Eater, you must think I loved having fried Muggle babies for breakfast. If I deny it, you will not believe it: you have never paid attention to anything I said."

Snape's words were full of anger and strongly contrasted with his former friendly attitude. After the initial shock, Harry felt angry too. He hadn't said anything offensive. And Snape had always been a git. Snape didn't have the right to be insulted by what Harry had said.

"I heard you calling my mother a Mudblood."

A vein throbbed on Snape's forehead. "You know nothing about me, Potter. Nothing! You have no idea. Don't talk about what you don't know."

"I should've known it was impossible to talk to you. How naïve of me."

Snape clenched his right fist, as if ready to strike, but then he relaxed and continued to eat, his head high, his face impassive. Harry felt bad, and couldn't understand why. Rationally, he couldn't see anything wrong in what he had said.

Harry started eating again, but the food had lost its flavour. The minutes dragged by. Harry began to worry that they wouldn't be able to work together if they continued to fight like that. "If you don't want to go with me to the Cueva, say it now. I need to know."

"This case has nothing to do with our personal feelings, Potter. We have a deal; I will do my part. It is a habit of mine."

Harry felt part of the tension dissipate. "All right. So... can you tell me what you know about the Cueva?"

Snape emptied his plate, poured himself another glass of wine and sipped it, as if to show he wasn't in any hurry. Harry had also finished his plate and waited as patiently as he could for Snape's answer.

"As you must know, the Inquisition had a devastating effect on the witches and wizards of this country," Snape began. "All the witches and wizards of that time were exterminated or had to hide. Because of that, the next wizarding generation lost contact with the old traditions. I suppose the new generations had never been interested in the Cueva, either because the place had been kept sealed by the Muggles, or because the legends spread by the Muggles were too absurd."

"You may be right. There're scarce references to the Cueva in our libraries."

"Yes. There are references only to Scot, perhaps because Scot actually was from Scotland, and a wizard too important to be forgotten. Nonetheless, when the sources mention the cave where Scot learned magic, the references are too vague. I had to research in Muggle sources to find references to the Cueva."

Harry looked at Snape suspiciously. What was that about Snape and Muggles again? What was he playing at? "So what do the Muggles say about the Cueva?"

"Ah, the most fantastic stories. They say the Devil used to teach Dark Arts there, in person. During seven years, he would teach seven pupils. The tuition fee was the soul of one of his pupils."

Harry sneered. "I've read about that. And what about the Marquis of Villena, who lends his name to the tower that stands over the Cueva?"

"The tower never belonged to Villena, and Villena never was a Marquis. His name was Enrique de Aragón, and although a marquisate was at one time in the family, the title was revoked and annulled by Henry III. According to the legends, he was one of the pupils taught by Devil and who, by the end of the seven years, lost the draw on the day tuition was due... Villena was a peculiar character. He seems to have been a very intelligent and cultivated gentleman. He was a writer, translator and surgeon; he studied Mathematics, Astronomy, Alchemy and Philosophy. No wonder such a learned man was imprisoned by the Inquisition, on charges of witchcraft and necromancy! They burnt his books, and he died in jail."

"That's outrageous."

"Indeed. Salazar Slytherin had his reasons for defending the segregation. But there are as many idiotic Muggles as there are imbecile wizards, and not all the Muggles are dunderheads. Villena wasn't a wizard. He was a Muggle who studied many unorthodox subjects in depth, such as the Magical Arts. Nonetheless, he was a Muggle, just as the ones who defamed him and caused his imprisonment. As for the Inquisition, it was undoubtedly a dark period for the wizards and witches, but some of the legends about it had been exaggerated."

"From what I remember from Binns's classes..."

"Binns is a dreadful teacher. You shouldn't trust anything he taught you."

Harry sighed. "I don't remember much, anyway."

Surprisingly, Snape's mouth formed a half-smile. Harry felt reassured and took another gulp of wine. "What else do you know about the Marquis?"

"When the Devil tried to collect his tuition, the Marquis used all that he had learned to trick the Master and win his freedom. He hid himself in a clay jar until the Devil, panicked at the sight of an empty prison, rushed out in pursuit of his prisoner, without closing the crypt door."

"Ahahahaha! So the Marquis cheated the Devil."

"The Marquis made it out alive, but lost his shadow, which stayed behind in the crypt, in the hands of the Devil, who had grasped at it desperately as he struggled to stop the fleeing prisoner."

"What?! He lost his shadow?"

"Yes." Snape's lips curled in a smile, half sardonic, half amused. "The Marquis, says the legend, walked the rest of his life through the sunny streets of Salamanca... without ever casting a shadow."

Harry shook his head. "Surreal."

"No doubt."

"So you think this is all codswallop."

Snape pondered for a moment, then fixed his eyes on Harry's. "I believe the Cueva was indeed a magical site, perhaps an ancient Celtic graveyard. A sacred place where people gathered to practise magic rituals long before the Middle Ages. The Schola Obscura was probably just one of the groups that used to gather there. The Catholic Church tried to destroy that, to erase from the people's minds the connection with magic. Hence the building of a church on the magical site. As that was not enough, the Inquisition burnt all the books that mentioned the Cueva, and had the place sealed."

"Do you think that there are wizards nowadays trying to revive the Schola Obscura and recover the Cueva's traditions?"

"I believe the Cueva has never ceased to be used for magic rituals. Of course not everyone who frequented it knew what they were doing, though."

The waitress approached to clear the dishes from the table, and brushed Snape's shoulder with her cleavage. Harry rolled his eyes, and Snape smirked at him. The waitress offered desserts. Sulking, Harry opened the menu and ordered a Coulant fluido de praline de avellanas y chocolate blanco com helado de galleta. Snape asked just a cup of coffee with a chocolate truffle.

"Do you know what have you just ordered?" asked Snape, while the waitress walked away, swaying her hips.

"Of course I do."

In fact, Harry had only a pale idea, and was very pleased when he discovered it was a petit-gâteau of hazelnut praline, with white chocolate ice-cream and wafers on top. Harry had never eaten a more delicious dessert. The white chocolate wasn't too sweet, and the cake had a rich taste with a lush, crunchy texture.

However, the sugar overdose after the wine left Harry sleepy.

"Potter, if you fall asleep at the table, I will leave you here and Apparate alone to the Cueva."

"I'm not sleeping!" protested Harry. "All right. Let's go."

They stood up. Snape nodded at the waitress, who flashed a warm smile. They left the restaurant, climbed the staircase and crossed the corridor to their room.

When Snape gestured for Harry to hold his arm, Harry rebelled. "Listen, I'm not your pupil any more. I'm an Auror, and can Apparate as well as you, or even better! You don't have to carry me everywhere."

"I hope you haven't forgotten that I am in command. I will side-Apparate you whenever I wish."

Harry sighed and reluctantly wrapped his arm around Snape's hooked arm. As soon as he did it, Snape closed his arm, holding Harry's arm against his body, as if to be sure Harry wouldn't escape. Harry couldn't help being surprised at Snape's protective, possessive attitude. Snape was an enigma Harry could not decipher.

They Apparated beyond the Roman arch and the wired fence that surrounded the church of San Cebrián. The night was dark, for there was no moon, and cold. Harry wished he had brought a warmer coat to Salamanca.

"Here we are," whispered Snape, releasing his arm. "In the Cueva."

Harry looked around. They were in an open courtyard in ruins, stones scattered around the whole area. "But this is just a courtyard!"

"Indeed... Apparently there is nothing here but ruins." Snape walked across the crypt, the tip of his wand lit. "However... I can feel the magic. Can't you feel it?"

Harry closed his eyes to focus, and felt the air vibrating slightly. "Yeah... I think I can feel something."

Snape approached a tall block of stone. "This is the Tower of Villena. It was part of the Roman wall that protected the city against enemy attacks."

Harry came near. The fallen stones blocked the entrance and hindered the view of the inside.

"The magic of centuries is concentrated here," Snape murmured.

For a moment, Harry let himself be contaminated by the poetic spirit that seemed to have possessed Snape. But soon more practical concerns overtook him. "Very moving, but what should I tell Robards, my chief?"

"If we don't find anything, they will probably send squads and destroy everything from here to the centre of the Earth," declared Snape, in a louder tone than usual.

Harry stared at him, puzzled. "Do you really think so?"

"I am absolutely sure. The Ministry will put on an act in order to convince the public that there was a group of dark wizards here that had to be exterminated, and they will destroy the place. They will tear it stone from stone."

Harry was going to argue that that wasn't the Ministry's modus operandi, more to contradict Snape than out of real conviction, when a silver glow lit the inside of the Tower, and a figure started to form before them.

It seemed to be the ghost of a tall, lean man with a dark wig and the tips of his dark moustache curved upwards.

"You disappoint me, gentlemen. I thought you were civilised wizards," he said, in perfect English with just a touch of Spanish accent.

"Marquis of Villena, I presume?" asked Snape.

The gentleman bowed and smiled. "At your service."

Harry was sure he knew him from somewhere, but couldn't think how. "Er... Mr Marquis, excuse my indiscretion, but how can you speak English?"

"Mr Potter, the fact that I am dead is not a reason not to study new languages! Perhaps you don't know, but I was a translator when I was alive, and..."

"Oh, right. Please excuse my ignorance: I didn't know ghosts could learn new languages."

"In fact we ghosts tend to be quite conservative: we keep doing what we did when we were alive. I liked to study and practise new languages, and I seem unable to break the habit."

"Why do you think we are not civilised wizards?" asked Snape.

"Would civilised wizards destroy a temple of magic?"

"Ah, but apparently this place is nothing but a legend. I can't see anything here that is worthy of preservation. I see nothing but old stones," snapped Snape.

"The deepest magic works in the invisible, gentlemen!"

Harry was becoming more and more suspicious. But Snape was acting naturally, as if he expected what was happening.

"We need solid evidence, Marquis."

"If I were you, I wouldn't meddle with such dangerous matters," said the Marquis, sounding more mysterious than threatening.

"Are you implying that this is really a portal of communication with Satan?" asked Snape.

"I cannot say anything about that. As you know very well, a deal has to be made."

"Are you proposing us a deal with the Devil?" asked Harry, more and more intrigued.

"Me? Oh, no. But if you want to meet Him, be aware that the price is high."

"Would you lead us to Him?" asked Snape.

"Come tomorrow at midnight and I will lead you... to your destiny."

"Why tomorrow? Why not today?" Snape insisted.

"Believe me, it is for your own good that I am asking you to come back tomorrow. This way you will have time to reflect on the deal you are about to make and decide... if you really want to make it."

With those words, the Marquis vanished in the air.

Suddenly, the night seemed colder and darker than ever. Snape approached Harry and held his arm. "Let's return to the inn."

As soon as they Apparated into the room, Harry went to the bathroom and had a shower. When he stepped into the room again, in his pyjamas, he found Snape comfortably seated in the armchair with a book. Snape stood up, put his book back into his holdall and went to the bathroom. Harry gazed at the bed, not knowing what to do. Exhausted, he ended up sinking into the armchair.

"Wake up, Potter."

Harry opened his eyes and couldn't understand why Snape was in front of him. In a nightshirt, to top it off! "Uh..."

"I could very well sleep by your side and no part of my body would touch any part of yours. However, as you are clearly terrified at the prospect of such a repulsive contact, I have cast a magic barrier along the central line of the bed, and made both sides of the bed separately, each with its own sheet and blanket."

Harry felt confused. Snape seemed truly offended - more than offended, hurt - and Harry couldn't understand why. Certainly, Harry had implied that Snape could want to sexually harass him, which was preposterous. Harry knew that that was an absurd and irrational idea, but part of him was still not so sure.

"Where did you find another sheet?" asked Harry, deciding to steer the subject to more trivial things.

"I called the lobby and asked them to bring me an extra one."

"Ah. All right."

Perhaps because Harry had sounded hesitant, Snape murmured in his lowest tone, "You may test the barrier, if you want."

Harry almost said that that wasn't necessary, that he trusted Snape, but a demon inside him made him want to provoke Snape. He touched the barrier and confirmed he wasn't able to pass beyond it. Snape glared at him, probably furious because Harry didn't trust him.

"I can't break the barrier, clearly, but what about you? How can I be sure? Maybe I should cast my own barrier," said Harry.

Snape seemed about to explode. "Do as you want, Potter. I am tired. Don't forget that I am here on your request. You don't have to make a scene just to show how disgusting you think I am. We both know very well what your feelings are for me."

Snape slid beneath the covers, on the right side of the bed. Feeling guilty and not knowing why, Harry snuggled down under the covers on the left side.