The Last Sanguimagus

A barn owl scratched at the window, and Harry retrieved the message. It was written on a scrap of paper, and said only Be prepared in Dumbledore's writing.

Prepared for what? he wondered. He turned it over in his hand. There was nothing else written there. He suddenly felt a quick stab of fear. Was he in some danger? But he was supposed to be safe here at Privet Drive. He took a deep breath and sat down on the bed, trying to think.

Hedwig preened her feathers absently on the top of the dresser. Harry had retrieved his belongings from the loose floorboard, and he had packed his trunk. Everything was stashed inside. He was ready to go to Diagon Alley and Hogwarts. Maybe that was it! Maybe he was just supposed to be prepared to leave! It made sense.

He tried to think how he would get there. Was the Order going to accompany him? Or would Mr. Weasley arrange to have the Dursleys' fireplace connected to the Floo Network again? The sun was setting, and he felt the pleasant buzz of anticipation. It would be so wonderful to see Ron and Hermione--

His scar prickled irritatingly, and he rubbed at it, wondering why it was suddenly acting up again after having been quiet nearly the entire summer. He flopped backwards onto the bed, staring at the ceiling, wishing that he were at Hogwarts already.

***

Sarah surveyed her classroom again, wondering if she had forgotten anything. The students would be here soon, and if she wanted this to work, she had to start out properly with them.

Dumbledore had given her the three empty classrooms on the ground floor on the right-hand side. She was grateful. Climbing the stairs every day would have been quite an exertion, as she could not simply Apparate. It meant that she was across from Firenze's classroom, which probably wasn't a good thing, but so far he had maintained a civil distance from her. It also meant that she was close to the entrance to the dungeons, but after the meeting in Dumbledore's office she was certain that Severus would do his best to avoid her.

She had left the first classroom alone, turned the second into her office, and walled off the door into the corridor for the third, making it her own set of rooms with its only entrance in her office. Minerva had helped Transfigure part of it, as Sarah at best was only barely competent in that branch of magic. The older professor had been stonily silent throughout and seemed to want to be anywhere but the same room with her, which meant that she knew, of course, but still, she had helped.

She sighed. This was a challenge, but it was her only option. Truly Dumbledore was the patron saint of second chances to allow her to find sanctuary here, though he had surprised her by requiring her to teach in return. After all, she could not imagine any parent willingly allowing a Sanguimagus to teach their children anything. She had questioned the wisdom of coming to Hogwarts more than once--after all, now that she was here she was effectively trapped--but after reviewing her options she realised that there was nowhere else to go. Dumbledore had assured her that, were there any complications, she was welcome to stay hidden here, and she believed him. Especially after she had walked the corridors for the first time and felt the deep undercurrent of magic within the walls. It had been her home once for seven years, and now that she had returned, older, broken, and tired, it was her refuge again.

***

Harry was suddenly awake. It was still dark outside. He had gone to bed fully dressed. He really didn't know what to expect, but the note had said to be prepared. It turned out to be the correct impulse, because the door to his bedroom opened and there, silhouetted from the glow of the hall light, stood Albus Dumbledore.

Harry was overjoyed. Dumbledore smiled kindly at him, his blue eyes twinkling even in the gloom. He snapped his fingers and the trunk levitated. "Shall we?" he said quietly. Harry nodded, putting on his shoes, and followed him down the hall, past the sleeping Dursleys, out to the front lawn of number four, Privet Drive, where a thestral waited, flexing its powerful, leathery wings.

***

Sarah closed the door to her office and walked out into the hall, mentally preparing herself for battle.

It wasn't battle, of course, but it was close enough. Since she had arrived, she had kept to herself, having her food brought to her by an exuberant house-elf named Dobby. Tomorrow, however, the students would arrive and Dumbledore had hinted that it would be nice if she got to know the staff, and mentioned a lovely custard tart that sometimes appeared at the staff table. Meaning, of course, that she should join them at daily meals. She crossed the entrance hall, passing by the steps leading down to the dungeons and the cold waft of air that always lingered there, past the marble steps leading up to the first floor, past the passageway that led to the kitchens, and walked into the Great Hall.

The ceiling reflected the brilliant sunny morning outside. The long tables for the four houses were gone, and only a large, circular table remained. Nearly the entire staff was already seated there, as it was so close to the school term, and she felt a slight twinge as she realised that there was only one chair left open. I am late. She crossed the hall stiffly, her back in agony, and eyed her seat, knowing that sitting down would only make it worse. But she was there now, and had little choice. She kept her face a blank mask and sat as slowly as she dared without drawing too much attention. It didn't work. Most of the staff stared at her. Other than the staff meeting she had purposely stayed out of sight, and now they all eyed her, some suspiciously, a few with outright hostility.

"Ah!" said Dumbledore warmly. "How nice of you to join us on this lovely morning, Sarah." He looked tired, despite his friendly greeting.

A few of the teachers mumbled good morning to her. "Good morning," she replied quietly. She glanced around once, and saw Severus staring at her. He looked away immediately.

She surveyed the heaping platters of food in front of her, hoping for some simple porridge or gruel. There was a bowl with some creamy white substance nearby, and she silently thanked the house-elves. Unfortunately, it meant she would have to stretch to get it, as it was rude to levitate food on a table at such a public gathering. She gathered herself and leaned forward, reaching out her right hand and carefully picking up the bowl. There was no clear space to set it down, however, which meant she would have to spoon it out with her left hand. She steeled herself and brought up her left hand to serve herself the porridge, and then replaced the spoon and put the bowl back. Familiar pain overran her, the heat of her back scalding, her upper left arm bleeding anew through the bandages. She stared at the porridge, using all of her will to block out the agony, carefully taking a spoonful and concentrating on calming her stomach. It worked to a small degree, and she was able to get through nearly half of it.

The other teachers were ignoring her pointedly, except for Filius, who had taught her Charms and had always seemed to like her when she was one of his prize students. He was sitting next to her, and at one point had given her a small smile, though thankfully he had not tried to bring her into a conversation. Minerva was on her other side, and had turned herself to face Aurora Sinistra, holding a rather stilted exchange about Transfiguration. A few of the professors had left. She noticed that Severus was one of them. She put down her spoon and used her napkin to wipe her lips. Time to return and work out the last details of her lesson plan, and change the dressings. She sat still for a moment, trying to work up to the task of standing up.

***