The Last Sanguimagus

The fire in the Gryffindor common room crackled cheerfully, and Harry felt overly warm as he struggled to finish his Potions essay. Ron was re-reading a Daily Prophet article about the Chudley Cannons, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Harry could hear Hermione talking to Ginny across the room, but, seeing his look, said good-bye to her and came to sit next to him. "They still haven't returned," she said quietly. "I think that he was found out."

Harry knew that "he" meant Professor Snape. "I wonder what will happen." He put down his quill.

"He knows things," she said, frowning. "He knows too much...I hope he's used a Pensieve..."

"Why'd Tanner run off?" wondered Ron.

"I have a feeling the potion sample is involved," said Hermione. "It must have been something that incriminated him in some way..." She looked distressed. "Dumbledore has to go after Snape...he just has to."

"He hasn't, yet," said Ron. "He was in the entrance hall with McGonagall."

"They're waiting for him," said Harry. "They're waiting to see if he comes back."

***

Pain spiraled, crushing Severus against the unyielding earth, choking him. Darkness grew at the edges of his vision, and he thought he would die now if it did not stop.

It did stop, leaving him gasping and choking in the cold night air. Still alive, he thought bitterly. He had been so close.

He had no more wishes to spare for the torture to cease. He had no more thoughts for hoping they would tire of their sport. He only desired death, clean, simple, death.

Vaguely he thought of his obligations, the responsibilities that had always weighed so heavily upon him. They were gone now, distant, as remote as the quiet chambers he had called his own at Hogwarts. He remembered the Headmaster's Pensieve, sitting on the desk, flickering, thoughts of the Order swirling within it. What would happen to those thoughts, he wondered sluggishly. Would they vanish? He wondered who would find them if they did not. Would the Headmaster keep them? He felt dizzy and weak. Pain still clung to him, and there was a roaring in his ears.

His eyes began to focus again, and the noise diminished. A stone dug into his hip, and he concentrated on this small discomfort, trying to block out the rest of the agony.

There was an odd feeling, as if a moth had landed on his shoulder. Or perhaps it was a bit of lace, or a bird's wing. It seemed to sink into him, and his skin felt warm where it touched. I am becoming delusional.

There were voices behind him.

"We're very nearly ready to attack their headquarters," said Rookwood. "It's a shame that Barty is gone...he would have been invaluable. He did see inside, when he first attacked Moody..."

Severus stiffened in shock. They think that Moody's house is the headquarters for the Order. He exhaled weakly. If they attack the wrong place, it will buy the Order some time. The game was not over. He had to keep them from this information.

"Severus?" said the Dark Lord smoothly. "Was there something you'd like to tell us?"

He shook his head, desperate.

A cold, cold hand grasped his chin, bringing his face up, forcing him to look. "Your reaction leads me to believe otherwise."

"We have no more Veritaserum," said Rookwood quietly.

"I will not need it," said the Dark Lord. "That was Lucius's conceit." He looked at Severus calmly. "I can see there is something else...something you know..."

Severus could not avoid the red eyes that pierced him. A wave of panic flooded him, giving him a last desperate burst of energy. He tried to push away.

The Dark Lord backhanded him with such force that he was left dazed. "You will tell me everything, Severus," he said calmly. "The sum of your pathetic, traitorous life."

His vision swam. He tasted blood.

He thought of Dumbledore, who had shown him so much respect, who had given him a second chance.

I must not fail. He was so tired. His Occlumency skills were unparalleled, yes, but the Dark Lord was so much more than he had been. The resurrection of his physical body had given him a new strength.

Again he was forced to look at the Dark Lord. The red eyes were inches from his own.

"Legilimens," the Dark Lord hissed.

Everything blurred and vanished, and he felt the incredible power of the Dark Lord in his mind, pulling out image after image. He cried out as the memories streamed out, ruthlessly plundered as the dark, cold power probed deeper into his mind. His mother, crying in bed...a young girl throwing a stone at him...his first day at Hogwarts...

No.

The Dark Lord laughed, then, and broke the contact. "No?" he said loudly, still amused. "Is that what you say, little traitor? Legilimens!"

Again the face of the Dark Lord slipped away, as memories were dragged to the forefront. Severus struggled in vain. Empty your mind of emotion, he said to himself ruthlessly.

The Order. Had to protect the Order. It did not matter what else was left. It did not matter, the pain of being upside-down in front of them, the pain of the Dark Mark as it burned itself into his skin, the pain of being indebted to James. Only the Order mattered. He collected himself. Protected the Order in his mind. Locked it away as far as he could manage.

The Dark Lord paused. "Lucius," he said slyly. "I had no idea that your wife had such poor taste." Severus's head lolled, and he saw Lucius's face, looking insulted, and then transforming into a look of understanding and anger.

Red eyes filled his vision again. "Legilimens!" Again his mind was being torn apart. It was hard to breathe. He choked on blood. Images flew by so quickly that he could barely make them out. Teaching Draco...brewing a potion...slicing into a rat...tea with the Headmaster...speaking to Sarah...

There was an ominous pause, and he felt an odd longing welling up. He would never see Sarah again. The thought was painful. He hoped that she would stay safe at Hogwarts, that the Dark Lord would be defeated and she could live a new life. He felt a stab of anger, that the Dark Lord could see her in his mind.

"Lucius," hissed the Dark Lord. "Were you aware that this traitor had healed her?"

"Healed?" said Lucius, sounding wary.

"The blood witch," he said impatiently. "He has created the antidote to the potion he made for you."

Everything was silent for a moment. Then hands grabbed him roughly, pulling him away from the Dark Lord. "How could you!" shouted Lucius, his grey eyes wild. "How could you do this to me? I was your friend!" Lucius shook him roughly, looking as if he would snap Severus's neck.

Severus would have welcomed it.

"You've ruined it," said Lucius bitterly, breathing harshly. "You've destroyed my masterpiece. My greatest work. I knew she was alive...I wanted her...she was supposed to be mine. And you have ruined it." Severus closed his eyes, and Lucius wound a hand in his hair, pulling sharply. "Look at me!" he shouted.

"Lucius..." said Severus raggedly.

"It was a mistake," said Lucius in the coldest tone he had ever heard. "A mistake to convince the Dark Lord to let you join us. A mistake to give you such responsibility. A mistake to leave you alone with...my wife..." A look of disgust filled his face, and Lucius threw him to the ground. "You were my closest friend," he said angrily. "You were my ally, my...I can't believe..." He pulled out his wand, his hand shaking in fury. "Crucio!"

Severus screamed as the most intense wave of pain lanced him, rushing through his body like liquid fire. This must be it. This must be the end. He was being burned alive. He was being stabbed by a thousand needles. He was still screaming, his voice a thin rasp.

"Enough!" came the Dark Lord's voice. "There is still much more to be found. Nott, the potions case..."

His vision swirled in, collapsing on itself, bright sparkling points of light growing and shrinking at the edges.

***

Sarah felt a wave of anger as she realised that Lucius Malfoy had cast the Cruciatus Curse. He looked murderous, his cruelly beautiful face disfigured by fury, and she clenched her teeth against her reaction.

At that moment she would have given nearly anything to slice his throat and pull out every last ounce of power he had in the most painful manner possible.

The Dark Lord looked in her direction. Already the game had become dangerous.

She moved slowly, not wanting to disturb the concealing spell, heading towards the Death Eaters. The Painstone was in her left hand, her wand a comforting presence in her pocket. But still...There is no possible way I can leave this place alive.

The Dark Lord's eyes roved over where she had been standing up until that moment. A few more steps, and she was behind the Death Eaters, close to a large gap in their semi-circle. She could see Severus, his broken body bleeding and twitching on the ground. She stood still for a long moment. The concealing spell grew harder to control.

She pulled up her left sleeve, and there it was. The last nail head. The other two nail wounds still bled; she could not heal them, as close as they were to the last. A decade of study and planning, waiting to be unleashed as a last resort. But she was not trapped here; she had come here of her own volition, and she was going to pull out the last nail as an attack, not a defence. Indecision gripped her.

She could still get away. She could run, Apparate, get back to Hogwarts. She could leave him there. What did she owe him, after all? This is insanity. I'm going to die. He's going to die. Nothing will be solved.

But there was a chance.

Red eyes sought her out. It was now, or it was never.

Her fingertips found the warm metal head of the nail. She pulled it out of her arm, a sudden flare of energy springing up as she flung it as far as she could.

It made a faint ringing noise as it struck a rock next to the gleaming obsidian flames of the fire.

"Silence!" said the Dark Lord. All of the Death Eaters turned to stare at him and the dark bonfire.

Her wand was in her right hand, the wood slippery with blood. She concentrated on the wand sticking out of Severus's potions case. It came to her hand and nearly bounced off. She pocketed it, hoping that no one had noticed.

A shape formed next to the fire. The Dark Lord held his wand lightly in his fingers, his eyes narrowed.

Sarah murmured a Lifting Charm and pointed her wand at Severus. She had little of the thestral's blood energy left; it had faded quickly, leaving her drained and wanting more.

The figure was still coalescing. The enormous, tawny lion's body, the scorpion's tail, the horribly indescribable face.

"A manticore!" shouted someone. "Merlin help us!"

"She's here," said the Dark Lord. "Find her! Find the blood witch."

Goyle and Crabbe were to her right, and the concealing spell was nearly spent. "I heard something," said Goyle.

"She's nearby," said Macnair. Her blood ran cold at the sound of his voice. "She must be."

"Manticore," said Crabbe in a strangled voice.

The manticore stared at the Dark Lord, its inhuman face set in a parody of a smile. "Who has brought me here?" Its voice was hollow, vibrating, sweeping over the dead grass, radiating through the ground.

"A Sanguimagus," said the Dark Lord imperiously. "Help me find her, and you can leave in peace."

The manticore regarded him, arrogance in every line of its posture, a king among magical beasts. "Help you?"

She held her breath. No, surely it will not join with him...

The manticore laughed, an awful sound that made her knees weak. Only too well did she remember that sound. "You are nothing to me. Tell me why I should spare your life."

She exhaled in relief. There was nothing stronger in a manticore than pride. Hopefully this distraction would give her enough time to get to Severus. She brought out the Painstone; it was the only thing she possessed which would have any sort of effect on the creature, should it attack her.

"Spare my life?" said the Dark Lord, clearly amused. "You will be lucky to leave her with you own."

The manticore stood still, astonished. Then it bared its pointed teeth in fury, growling in the back of its throat. It made Sarah's hair stand on end. Its eyes narrowed and its tail uncoiled, the sting glinting dangerously in the firelight.

The Dark Lord stood, tall, his pale skin gleaming, his wand held in a dangerous grip, his entire demeanour radiating power. The manticore began to crouch slowly. "You will beg me for your life or I will kill you," it said, the words hammering unpleasantly on her ears. Crabbe and Goyle stared stupidly at the manticore, completely distracted.

Macnair was not so easily distracted. He still looked for her, his brutish face scanning the clearing. Severus made a weak, pained noise, and her heart squeezed in fright.

"I do not beg," said the Dark Lord. "Join me, and help me destroy the one who brought you here, or face me at your peril."

The manticore threw back its head and let out a deafening roar. Several Death Eaters screamed and covered their ears. Most turned pale. No sane wizard would face a manticore.

There was a flurry of robes, and a woman emerged from the half-circle, standing next to the Dark Lord, her long black hair in disarray, her wand held out.

"Bellatrix!" called out another Death Eater.

"You will have to kill me first," Bellatrix cried out, no trace of fear in her bearing. "Stupefy!"

"No!" shouted the Dark Lord.

The red beam caught the beast squarely on the chest and bounced off, striking the ground with such force that rocks and grass were blown into the air. With a horrible shriek the manticore launched itself at Bellatrix.

Sarah had to get Severus out of there before he was crushed.

Her wand was exchanged for her knife, and she stabbed Goyle in the back. He sank to his knees, crying out. She set her hand to the wound and pulled. It was a terrible way to obtain power but she did not have time. She would pay for it later. She thought of Goyle's fists and the beating she had received and gave one final yank, leaving him pale and gibbering on the cold ground.

The fire of his blood made her stagger, and she nearly fell against Crabbe, who was bewildered at what had befallen Goyle.

The concealment spell was in shreds. She ran to Severus, her heart hammering, the unfamiliar power coiling, hurting her. "Severus," she said breathlessly. He did not answer. His eyes were closed. Thank Merlin he is still breathing. She looked across the clearing at the potions case longingly. She could not simply Summon the entire case; it would break everything inside. She had no idea which bottle to Summon, and it was too far away to reach.

Hexes burst in the air around her, and she narrowly avoided a Stunner. Her knife in her pocket, the Painstone still in her hand, she hoisted Severus. With the Lifting Charm he was an awkward burden but a light one. She could feel the last of the obscuring magic fade away, and there were shouts as some of the Death Eaters noticed her.

She began to run, her feet slapping against the ground, desperately dodging spells, gasping as her lungs burned with the exertion. There is no possible way I can make it to the edge of the Anti-Disapparition Spell.

The manticore screamed again, and the very air shook. A beam of green light passed her with only scant inches to spare.

She turned to look. The manticore and the Dark Lord were locked in a struggle, magic rending the ground, the air charged with energy and Dark Magic. There was a monstrous roar from the manticore and she tripped and nearly collapsed, falling painfully to her knees. A red Stunner arced overhead. She was nearly to the edge of the Anti-Apparition field.

She heard a far off cracking noise, and realised that Death Eaters were Apparating, fleeing from the clearing.

She looked back again, hoping no one had followed her. She put Severus down as carefully as she could. He did not make a sound. She brought out his wand with shaking hands. "Ennervate!" she said, casting the spell as forcefully as possible. Severus's wand worked flawlessly, and he gasped, his eyes snapping open. He tried to say something, his eyes rolling fearfully toward the sight behind her, but she said urgently, "Take your wand. Apparate to the forest. Now!" She pushed his wand into his hand.

"He's behind you," said Severus in a strained voice. There was a loud crack as he Apparated.

The point of a wand dug into the back of her neck.

"I have you," came Macnair's rough voice. "Little bitch...you're caught."

It was a nightmare come to life. Her wand was not in her hand. She had no nails left.

"Stand up slowly," he said.

She obeyed. The wand tip did not leave her neck.

"Where's your wand?" he said.

"In my pocket," she said.

He laughed uproariously. She could still hear the shrieks and bellows of the manticore in the distance. He put his hand on her ribcage, slowly searching out her pocket, until he found it and pulled the wand out. "You pull a manticore out of your arse, but you don't bother to look behind you." He laughed again.

The Painstone was cold and smooth in her hand. It was her only chance.

"I'm going to share you with Lucius," he bragged. "I'm going to break you so good you'll piss yourself every time you see me." There was a whisper of sound; he was putting her wand in his robe. "Turn around and face me."

It was hot in her hand, then, the power burning incandescently against her palm, and she turned slowly, the pain from years of agony building and scalding. The look on his face was pure beast at first, and then his brow furrowed. "What's in your hand?"

"This," she said, and there was a flash of intense light. He looked stunned until the pain reached him, and he screamed. Ss she looked in his terror-stricken eyes she remembered what he had done to her. Her hand was in pain, excruciating pain, but she could not stop, she could not forget. She fed the agony to him, forcing it to arc into his body. He made a gurgling noise as blood flowed from his mouth.

One last burst, one bright spasm, and his eyes turned glassy as he collapsed.

The light from the Painstone died suddenly, and she was left in half-dark, her eyes smarting, her hand sticky and white-hot, his corpse at her feet.

"No," she said weakly.

She had killed with the Painstone.

Another oath broken.

There was a shout, and she moved aside as the feeble red beam of a Stunner nearly struck her. She bent down and pulled her wand out of Macnair's pocket and Apparated.