Mysteriorum Antiquitas

Chapter One: Cruor

The man walked hurriedly through the dark, deserted streets of Chelsea, London. He would have apparated, if not for his precious cargo. He couldn't risk the effects of apparation on it. Not right now.

Just one week ago, Fintan Ashby had made the most important discovery of his life. 'No,' he thought, 'not just my life. The most important discovery of any life.' His mind slipped back into musing about what the discovery would mean to the Wizarding World.

He continued walking at his brisk pace, careful to stay in the shadows of the buildings. He had to get it to the ministry, and fast.

He smiled to himself as he thought about the events of the past week. It had been unbelievable. He still couldn't believe that it had been in front of him the whole time. In front of everyone. He thought back to the night when he had discovered---

Then his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of swiftly approaching footsteps behind him. He swung around just in time to hear muttering, followed by a blinding flash of purple light. He flew backwards, then the darkness enveloped him.

~~~

Fintan awoke to the smell of burning flesh. He looked down and saw that it was his own. Then his sense of feeling came flooding back to him. Pain seared through his chest. He was lying on his back, on cold sharp stones. His surroundings told him that he was in front of the ministry of magic. But why would his attacker bring him here? Fintan lifted his head up a bit more. His whole body ached, and he couldn't move his limbs. Then he saw it. The brand.

His stomach turned and Fintan felt the bile rising in his throat. He suppressed the urge to be sick as he realized what he was looking at.

The dark mark had been burned into the very center of his chest. He had been branded. But he hardly felt the pain anymore. He was more concerned with one thing. Voldemort and his followers were gone. They had been defeated 4 years ago. Why, then, was the dark mark branded on his chest? It couldn't be... that they had returned... Could it?

Just then, a shadow passed in front of him. He looked up, to see a cloaked figure, standing over him. His face was in shadow and he was wearing all black. Gloved hands were holding the precious discovery. Fintan could tell that he was appraising it, sizing it up, and admiring it's unthinkable beauty. Fintan smiled proudly. It certainly was beautiful.

Then the cloaked figure turned his head very slowly and looked into Fintan's eyes.

He spoke. "Mr. Ashby, you are the last. The rest are dead, and now you will die as well. But before I kill you, I will ask you... do you wish the secret to die with you? Tell me the secret and it will live. Thousands of years and lives will have been in vain if you do not. I know that you are the secret keeper. I have discerned that much from your society's other... faithful... members. Tell me now and your life and theirs will not have been without purpose." He stopped and looked expectantly at Fintan.

Fintan glared up at the cloaked figure. Was this the man who had killed the other members? Fintan thought to himself, 'He thinks he's killed them all... he hasn't. There's one more. The secret is safe.'

Fintan continued to glare up at the man, and then responded to the man's offer. Fintan spit at him.

The cloaked man shook with rage. Then he extracted his wand from inside his robes and pointed it directly at Fintan. Just then a gust of icy wind blew the man's hood off his head, revealing his face.

Fintan's body seized up in shock. His eyes flew open, a look of recognition in them.

The dark man smirked down at Fintan's sheer surprise. "I see you weren't expecting me, Mr. Ashby." He gave a short derisive laugh, then said the words that Fintan knew were coming, "Avada Kedavra."

~~~

Miles away, Severus Snape awoke with a start.