The Last Sanguimagus

Blue eyes regarded him intently, and Severus felt the teacup shake ever so slightly as he placed it back on its saucer.

"A manticore," mused the Headmaster. "Quite remarkable."

"Yes." Severus placed the saucer on the edge of the desk. "It was...surprising, to say the least. The Dark Lord..." He trailed off, abruptly remembering the dark, the cold, the pain. Despite his long rest, he still felt drained and tense.

"Tomorrow will tell us who has survived," said the Headmaster. "I'm most grateful that you're still with us, Severus."

"The Dark Lord is still alive."

"Undoubtedly," said the Headmaster serenely.

Severus felt bitterness rise within him. "We are now left in the dark, Headmaster." He scowled. "We have no idea what he's planning, or what he'll do next."

The Headmaster took another sip of tea. "We will have to rely on other sources of information," he said. "Information which is more circumspect, to be certain, but perhaps not as open to wilful misdirection."

"Misdirection?"

"The plot against the Muggles in London turned out to be a fraud."

"Ah." Severus could feel his hands trembling and clenched them. "The Dark Lord was...toying with me toward the end, as I have said, and had suspected me for some time, as it turns out."

"I was not blaming you," the Headmaster chided gently. "I regret that the Order's presence in London caused you such trouble."

"It could not have been helped," said Severus wearily. "The information seemed legitimate, though we always knew that it might be a ruse to discover whether or not I was bringing information to you. The Dark Lord had enough evidence without this ruse, or even the potion sample. He questioned Nott about Sarah's first capture and escape, and Nott told him that he had seen me taking Sarah to Hogwarts. I had lied about seeing her at the castle and being unable to perform a Memory Charm. After that, it was only a matter of time."

The Headmaster sipped his tea and was silent for a long moment. "Do you think Sarah would be a good addition to the Order?"

"Sarah? in the Order?" he said, shocked. Several thoughts occurred to him at once, and he shook his head. "I don't think it's possible. She's a Sanguimagus, a practitioner of what could correctly be described as the Dark Arts. They barely tolerate me, after all; I can't imagine that they'd welcome her presence." He wondered what would happen now that he was no longer their star spy.

"Surely you have some opinion of whether she would be helpful or not."

"I think she would be deadly," said Severus flatly. "She killed a man, not yet a day past. She's unafraid to bloody her hands, which could be exactly what the Order needs. It could also be exactly what the Order should avoid at all costs. She would attract attention..." He sucked in a breath and tried to quell the nervous flutterings in his stomach. "The Ministry, as of this moment, is unaware of her crimes, simply because they were perpetrated against Death Eaters. Once this conflict is over..."

"You're afraid she'll be turned over to Azkaban," said the Headmaster bluntly.

"Yes."

"Being part of the Order might afford her some protection. In fact, it might be the safest course of action for her."

"She would more likely be used as a scapegoat."

"I am going to extend an invitation to her to attend Saturday's meeting," said the Headmaster. "If she chooses to attend, then the Order will decide."

Severus stared at him. "I assume," he said softly, "that you mean to tell them that she is a Sanguimagus."

"If she is to be a member of the Order, then her talents must be fully explained."

"Do you think it wise for Silas Marten to hear such information? Much less Molly Weasley...Sarah is teaching her son, after all. There will be an uproar."

"The Order will understand it is to keep such things confidential," said the Headmaster. "Sarah is talented in an obscure branch of magic. She'd be an asset to the Order. I will be speaking to her this week about the matter."

"Yes, sir," said Severus, feeling even more tired. "If there is nothing more..."

"There is one last thing," said the Headmaster. "Whatever you are thinking about yourself and your value to the Order, know that you are still needed." His blue eyes were serious. "There are innumerable potions for you to brew, and your advice is still worth a great deal. You, more than any of us, know how they think."

He could only nod. Worry gnawed at him.

"I would also not recommend leaving the castle for anything except Order business," he added.

Trapped, thought Severus.

"Good evening, Severus," said the Headmaster.

"Good evening," he murmured in reply, walking down the staircase. He walked swiftly towards the dungeons, sparing only one glance down the hallway that led to Sarah's rooms.

***

Sarah dreamed.

She is trapped. It is a dead end. She turns, but it is too late. They block her way, their white masks gleaming, their black robes quiet and menacing. She can taste her fear, bitter and stale in her mouth. Their wands are raised.

"I will kill anyone who gets in my way," she says, and it is there in her hand, the Painstone, jumping and pulsating with sick energy. "Let me go."

Some of them laugh, then, and they begin to murmur, whispering a Dark spell, some obscene, shackling curse.

She unleashes the pain, letting it rage, letting it lash out against them. They fall down like dry leaves, striking the floor like rag dolls. Her hand is strangely cold. She walks between the bodies, picking her way carefully, until she notices a few strands of golden hair.

Kneeling down, she pulls the mask off Lucius Malfoy, staring into his dead, grey eyes with a warm flush of satisfaction. She twines a few silken strands of blonde through her fingertips, wondering at the feel of it, amazed that anything about this monster could be soft. The gossamer threads trail off and intermingle with the black, greasy hair of the corpse next to him, and she cries out in pain when she realises that she has murdered Severus as well.

***

Severus opened the door to his classroom. Even though he was prepared for the devastation, he still winced. It was ruined.

It was late, and he was exhausted, but the fact remained that he had classes the next day, and the classroom needed to be put back to rights. He rubbed his eyes. He almost wished he could ask Sarah for help, but she wasn't well, and he was loathe to wake her should she be sleeping.

He frowned as he thought of how his life had now simplified itself. This was what he had to look forward to...this classroom, an unending parade of dull children, the deadening weight of marking...and the new threat of being the target of nearly every Slytherin. He would always have to be on guard here, in his prison.

"Dear me, Severus, what a mess!" Severus turned to see Filius standing in the doorway with wide eyes. "Poppy mentioned that something had happened to your classroom...oh my." He was staring at the great black puddle that had congealed in front of his desk.

He cursed inwardly for having left the door open. "Yes, a potion...got rather out of hand."

"It should be a relatively simple thing to clean up," said Filius, drawing his wand.

"Yes, but--"

"Ah, Severus," said Pomona, walking into the classroom. "Poppy was right. What a nightmare!"

"I'm certain you both are quite busy," he said, scowling. "You undoubtedly have marking to do, and I was just about to start..."

Minerva entered, and her eyebrows shot up when she saw the wreckage. "We'll help you, Severus," she said firmly.

"I'm fully capable," he said through clenched teeth.

"I'm quite certain you are," she said, "but this will take less time." She smiled at him innocently and walked over to his desk, sidestepping a puddle of goo. "Pomona, Filius, why don't you tackle this...substance on the floor, and Severus and I will work on his desk."

"I hope I'm not intruding," called Silas from the door. "I had heard that you required some assistance."

"Come in!" said Pomona just as Severus was going to tell him to sod off. "We can use the help." Severus fumed.

"What a disaster!" exclaimed Silas, looking around. "Thank goodness there were no students present when it happened."

Severus stormed over to his desk, where Minerva was peering at the pile of broken glass and ingredients.

Highly illegal ingredients.

Minerva looked up at him, aghast, one hand over her mouth. Severus shook his head negligibly and glanced in Silas's direction. Minerva nodded in understanding. "Silas, if you could just place the desks and chairs back into their places, and repair anything broken," she said.

Silas looked cross, but nodded, his eyes straying towards them. He began to efficiently levitate desks back into place.

"Severus," Minerva hissed. "What are you doing with these?"

He cleared a space on the floor and knelt down, staring at the pile of broken glass and plant and animal materials.

"I'll remove the glass," she said quietly. She flicked her wand expertly, and bottles began to repair themselves and line up on his desk.

Some of the ingredients were near-priceless. Some of them were only used in Dark potions. Some of them were completely ruined. He began to sift through them, putting things to the side, inspecting them with an experienced eye.

Silas began carrying on a loud conversation with Filius about the Ministry investigating certain individuals known to have connections to the Dark Arts. Severus seethed as he knelt next to his desk, and only Minerva's gentle touch to his shoulder prevented him from hauling the ginger-haired nightmare into the hall and subjecting him to a few concise hexes.

As he surveyed the pile, he grew more despondent. Without Lucius's protection, he was vulnerable. Lucius--or anyone, for that matter--could send Aurors into his office at any moment. If they found any of his more esoteric or illegal ingredients he'd be facing a term in Azkaban. He took a long, shaky breath.

Despite his desire to teach Defence Against the Dark Arts, he knew that he was talented at Potions, and he took great pride in his abilities and his cupboard. He was...had been well-supplied and well-connected. But now that he was here, alone, with only the protection of the Headmaster...things had changed. Certainly he had come to Dumbledore of his own free will, seeking an end to the pain he had created. Certainly he understood that the Dark Lord was only a pathway to horror, and not to the things he'd believed that he had wanted years ago. But always, in the back of his mind, he was aware that by belonging to both camps he would be prepared for either victory.

Now there would be no escape hatch. He had only the Order. He would have to accept their dislike of him, and he would have to prepare himself for the difficulties to follow. The Slytherins and their parents would lash out at him. He would have to demonstrate his loyalty to his fellow Order members over and over again, and for a few it would never be enough.

He would have to rid himself of anything that would endanger himself or Hogwarts.

With a trembling hand, he arranged the Dark ingredients--those which could not have any other use--into a small pile. He shuddered to think how many Galleons' worth of materials were there, how difficult they had been to procure, how extraordinarily rare they were. "Evanesco," he murmured, and they swirled and vanished. Again he felt Minerva's comforting hand on his shoulder.

He stood up, a bit shakily, and surveyed his desk. There was a large crack running through the centre.

"I'll transfigure it for you," said Minerva, examining it closely. "I think it might be salvageable." Silas peered rather obviously over his shoulder as he put chairs back in place.

"We're nearly finished here," said Filius brightly.

"I hope you'll be more careful in the future," said Silas as he deftly dropped the last chair into place. Severus glared at him.

A few more moments, and the floor was returned to its prior state. Pomona yawned and followed Filius out the door as he excitedly explained plans for a revised Scrubbing Spell.

"Good night, Silas," said Minerva pointedly as she transfigured the desktop.

"Good night," said Silas, leaving reluctantly.

Severus made a gesture, and the door slammed shut behind him. "Blast him," he snarled. "The fool..."

Minerva finished her spellwork and ran a hand over the dark stone surface. She looked up at him. "That was a good decision," she said.

He felt sharply the pangs of loss. "I dared not keep them," he said bitterly. "Many of them have no application except for the Dark Arts."

"Give them nothing to hunt you with," she said firmly. "Play the innocent. There are many who would like to see you in Azkaban."

"I know, Minerva," he said, slumping into a chair. He was so tired.

"I thought you were going to be killed," she said quietly. "I'm so glad that you've returned to us."

He looked up to see tears in her eyes. "Only because of Sarah," he murmured, looking away again.

"I will have to thank her for bringing you back," she added. "Good night, Severus."

"Thank you, Minerva," he said. She nodded and left.

He took a deep breath. The classroom was presentable, at the very least. He rubbed his eyes once more. Time for sleep.