The Last Sanguimagus

Sarah raised her head. The office was awash with light. She straightened up slowly, carefully, trying to piece together what had happened and why she was sleeping at her desk. She blinked and rubbed her eyes. What had she been doing last night? Ah, the talisman for the Potter boy.

It was fortunate that she had no early classes, because it was already late morning. She still felt drained, despite the long sleep. She needed something to eat. She needed some water to clear her mouth. She rubbed her eyes again and yawned. If she was lucky she could sneak something from the kitchens. She prepared to stand up.

***

Harry, Hermione, and Ron rushed into the Defence Against the Dark Arts class with only seconds to spare before the bell rang. The classroom looked mostly the same, except there was a dark curtain at the front of the room walling off a small portion. Harry turned to Hermione, who looked puzzled. Professor Marten was sitting on the edge of his desk, smiling, waiting for the bell, which rang.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning," said a few of the students.

"Ah, we'll have to work on that. The correct reply is Good morning, Professor Marten. Now let's try this again...good morning, class."

Everyone said, "Good morning, Professor Marten."

"It's wonderful to be teaching here at Hogwarts," he said, smiling. He hopped down from the desk and walked towards the curtain. "Usually I don't teach such large classes. This is a new challenge for me." His tone was lively as he turned to face the class. "Now, I've looked over the records, and they're somewhat...confusing. You have had a lot of upheaval regarding this class in the last five years. It is understandable that some of you may not be up to the high standards that Hogwarts has usually maintained. My goal is to prepare you for your N.E.W.T. in this subject and to get everyone to at least an E, which means we have a lot of ground to cover this term." Hermione looked very happy, unlike the rest of the students. "But, as today is the first day of class, I thought we'd do something unusual." His smile grew wider. "I've taught at many places over the years. The last assignment I had was in a distinctly rural setting, and I came across this fellow. They're notoriously difficult to capture, but I managed to do so. Don't worry, I will be returning him to his natural habitat later. This is a tremendous opportunity for all of you to study this specimen, as he may well be on your N.E.W.T. examination." He gestured and the curtain began to slowly part. "Let's see if anyone can actually identify him..."

The entire class gasped. In the front of the classroom hulked an enormous dark hound, baring its teeth and making horrible noises. A thin chain ran from the floor to a glowing collar around its throat. Even more frightening, Harry could see through the beast. Its shimmering body was like a ghost's, though it seemed slightly more substantial. Its burning green eyes were leaking some sort of phosphorescent substance that gleamed on the floor where it had pooled.

"Any guesses?" asked Professor Marten, looking extremely impressed with himself.

Hermione raised her hand at the same time that Harry did.

"Yes, Mr. Potter?"

"I think it's called a Gytrash," said Harry, remembering it from one of the Dark Arts books from the Room of Requirement.

"Ah, yes," said Professor Marten. "You are quite correct. And what exactly does one do if they encounter such an apparition?"

"Er..." Harry couldn't quite remember. "I think..."

Professor Marten looked even more pleased. "Perhaps there is room for a competent teacher here after all," he said smugly. Harry turned red. Even though most of the class might assume that the teacher was speaking of Umbridge, Harry knew that it was directed at him. The Gytrash snarled eerily and pulled its chain taut. Harry felt his spirits sink as Hermione began to outline how to escape the spectral hound.

***

Severus could not keep his mind on the third years in front of him. He knew full well that he could not be included in all discussions of the Order in case he was found out, but he felt a great sense of trepidation about this latest complication. Professor Marten's shielding spell on Potter would be a tremendous problem for the Dark Lord. Severus would be punished severely for not knowing about it ahead of time. He could only hope that his message to Voldemort would allay some of the suspicion and the Cruciatus Curse that were bound to follow.

"Five points from Gryffindor for not paying attention to your own cauldron," he sneered at a frightened student whose potion had turned black and begun to emit foul fumes.

Inwardly he knew that he had to consult with Dumbledore as soon as possible. There were plans to construct. He wanted to pound the desk in frustration. Instead he held his quill so tightly that it snapped in half. Cursing inwardly, he repaired it with a wave of his wand and went back to glowering. The bell could not ring soon enough.

***

As the students began to file out of the Defence classroom, Harry noticed Draco talking to Crabbe and Goyle. Elbowing Ron, he nodded in their direction.

"What are they on about now?" whispered Ron.

"Let's find out," said Hermione, who was putting her books away slowly, attempting to buy them time.

The Slytherins came closer, and Harry could hear them say something about Professor Tanner. He looked at the front of the classroom, and noted that Professor Marten was still trying to calm the frenzied Gytrash. He brought his attention back to Draco.

"...Dark Arts. I wonder if she'll teach us...at Durmstrang we would know loads already...haven't learned anything here...Mother says she knows about blood..."

Draco's last words were cut off when Professor Marten loudly and irritably asked Harry if they were planning on staying for the next lesson as well.

"No, sir, we were just going," said Ron, and they hurried out.

"We need to find somewhere to talk," hissed Hermione.

"Myrtle?" asked Ron.

"Yes, let's go," she whispered. They took off for the third floor bathroom. Inside it was quiet. Even Moaning Myrtle seemed to be gone.

"Must be in the lake," said Harry, looking around. It all looked as quiet and desolate as ever.

"What was Draco saying?" demanded Ron.

Hermione looked quite pale. "She's into the Dark Arts! Oh, Ron, why did you have to ask her to chaperone the DA? And now Harry's wearing that amulet--there's no telling what it could do. This is terrible!"

"Dark Arts? What are you talking about?" asked Harry. "How do you know he was talking about Professor Tanner?"

"Don't be stupid. He said her name. Who else would he be referring to? And Narcissa saying something about blood--that can only be Professor Tanner."

"She's a vampire?" said Ron with a confused expression.

"No, she does magic with blood!" wailed Hermione. "Oh, this is awful. We need to stay away from her. Harry, you have to take that amulet off."

"Hermione, you're overreacting!" said Harry. "This is Draco, remember? Since when does he know anything? He could even be deliberately misleading us. And I'm not taking the amulet off. It's working!"

Hermione looked miserable. "She could be working for Voldemort--we don't know anything about her. We can't possibly gather the DA in front of her--she'd know who everyone was! Harry--"

"I thought I was in charge of the DA." Harry was trying to sound calm.

Hermione looked shocked. "You can't put everyone in danger like this!"

Ron looked pale but determined. "I think Harry's right. Dumbledore hired her, he obviously trusts her. And this way we can keep an eye on her."

Hermione looked at Harry, and then Ron. "You're both mad!" She walked off looking cross.

"C'mon, we have to get to Transfiguration," urged Ron. Harry nodded and followed, wishing Hermione hadn't made so much sense. He was starting to feel some doubts about the Talismans professor.

***

"This is very serious," hissed Severus.

"Yes, I know," answered Dumbledore simply. "But it is better that you know little about this matter. I am quite certain that Voldemort will call you soon enough for an explanation."

"And I will have nothing to say." He scowled.

"Which is as it should be, for now," said Dumbledore firmly. "You'd best be on your way. The bell will be ringing soon."

"Very well." He stood and stalked out of the room, feeling even more fearful. He, too, had suspected that the Dark Lord would call him tonight. Blast! He felt as if everything was spiraling downwards. He was losing his careful grip on events. He only hoped that Silas was worth the havoc he was wreaking.

***