The Last Sanguimagus

Breakfast. Sarah did not even bother putting porridge on her plate and instead sipped some water from her goblet. Minerva and Filius were missing, as well as most of the other teachers. Silas and Severus sat in their accustomed places, as well as Aurora, who seemed to be eating in a hurry.

Sarah took another sip. The students were excited. It was the very first Hogsmeade visit for this group of third years, and the noise in the Great Hall was louder than usual. Merlin help the chaperones, she thought.

Minerva came storming into the Great Hall looking extremely displeased. This was apparently Aurora's cue to disappear, because the Astronomy professor took one look at the angry Headmistress and left hastily.

Sarah's eye was drawn to Severus, who looked nearly...thoughtful this morning, and she wondered at his expression. He stared into space, his black eyes unfocused, until Minerva walked past his chair, which seemed to rouse him from his reverie. He stood up, put down his napkin, and followed Aurora's lead.

"Sarah," said Minerva icily as she sat down next to her. "Filius has become ill this morning."

Oh Merlin.

"He won't be able to chaperone today's trip," she continued. "As Deputy Headmistress, I am requiring you to accompany us."

Sarah stared at her, at a loss for words. "I--no, I cannot..."

"You will," said Minerva crisply. "These students have enough things to contend with in their lives...they deserve a spot of happiness here and there. It would only take a few hours out of your busy timetable."

"I can't leave Hogwarts," said Sarah faintly.

"Rubbish," said Minerva. "You seem to think yourself in some sort of danger, but that is ridiculous. Both Silas and myself will be on this expedition and I assure you that the most perilous situation we'll face will involve Exploding Snap."

She couldn't appeal to the Headmaster, as he was gone. Severus would be of no use in the matter as well. She had very little choice. She did not think it wise to refuse an open order from the head of staff. "If I must go..." she said, feeling distinctly ill.

"You must," said Minerva firmly. "I will expect you at the doors in an hour."

Sarah stood stiffly and began the painful walk back to her rooms. Merlin, it can't get worse than this, she thought. The long walk to Hogsmeade...the potential for problems...

She sat down on her bed and began to think. She could not possibly bring the Painstone with her. It might attract undue attention. But she could not simply leave it all day in her room. It was far too nefarious an object to leave out in the open. Even with properly guarded doors...

***

Severus stirred the Dreamless Sleep Potion and checked it absently. Brewing some of the simpler potions was usually a way to ease his mind; it was calming to go through the motions, to occupy his hands with mixing and mincing. It wasn't working this time. He was too agitated. The Dark Lord had not bestowed the Dark Mark upon anyone since his rebirth, and Severus was not looking forward to the ritual. It would be bloody and Dark. He frowned. No doubt they had already tracked down a few victims to 'help' in the festivities.

It was nearly time. He began to bottle the potion efficiently, wondering when exactly the Dark Mark would signal him. His Death Eater mask and cloak were reduced and waiting in the pocket of his travelling cloak, along with the usual vials and flasks that he always brought with him. He wondered what he would be asked for this time. Veritaserum...the Draught of Agony...Blistering Potion...he could not leave anything behind the Dark Lord might require.

He might as well make his way towards the Forbidden Forest. The first and second years milled about the castle, but he was preoccupied, and didn't bother docking House points. He passed by Hagrid's empty hut, wondering where the half-giant had gotten to once again.

Abruptly the Dark Mark began to burn, and he gasped out loud, clutching at it with his right hand. He was nearly at a point he could Apparate from...just a little further. He put on his mask and cloak clumsily.

The momentary shock of Apparition faded and he found himself in front of a familiar manor, the site of some earlier meetings. It reminded him of the Cruciatus Curse that he had endured in the front drawing room, the smell of mouldering carpet coming back to him in a sudden sharp way. He shivered involuntarily.

He entered and made his way towards the back. Nearly everyone was there already, and no one was wearing a mask. He stripped his off immediately. They were in what was once presumably a ballroom of sorts, but had decayed considerably. The floor, once elegant marble, was filthy beyond belief. The other Death Eaters had assembled in a semicircle, and he could see Lucius across the room, who nodded at him. The Dark Lord sat on a throne at the far end. Severus came forward and performed his obsequience at the Dark Lord's feet, kissing the hem of his robe. He felt the red eyes upon him, though he dared not look up.

"Ah, Severus," came the high, frightening voice. It was nothing like the old, charming voice the creature had once possessed. "I am certain you will find today's gathering quite enjoyable..."

He was suddenly chilled to the bone. It was not a good thing to be singled out. "You are most gracious, my Lord," he said quietly. He backed away and joined Lucius.

Another few Death Eaters entered the hall and paid their respect to the Dark Lord.

"You were very nearly late," said Lucius disapprovingly.

"I have something of a walk," said Severus.

"As do I." He sipped from a goblet.

"Crabbe and Goyle...Macnair..." Severus looked around.

"They will be here shortly." The blonde man smiled, and Severus suddenly felt cold.

"The novitiate?"

"Marcus Flint," said Lucius casually.

Severus was deep in thought. Yes, of course he knew Flint, but that was no reason for the Dark Lord to hint that he would 'enjoy' today...

"It is time," said the Dark Lord. All of the Death Eaters put on their masks. Marcus Flint entered the room, his usual brutish look replaced with one of barely controlled terror. Severus almost felt sorry for him. Almost, except that he knew Flint had come here of his own will, and was seeking entrance to an organisation that he believed would grant him some measure of power. He closed his eyes for a moment, remembering his own Marking. There would be the transference. The blood. All of the ritualistic requirements fulfiled. Severus knew that soon he would be hearing Flint scream.

***