The Last Sanguimagus

Harry knocked on Tanner's door again, but there was no answer. "Did she forget?" wondered Ron aloud.

"Try her office door," suggested Ginny. Harry walked down the hall to the next door and knocked.

After a few moments the door swung open, revealing Professor Tanner, who looked rather distracted. "Yes?"

"Professor Tanner, our DA meeting is tonight," he said.

She blinked. "Meeting? Tonight?" Harry nodded. She looked confused for a moment. "I apologise. Now that you mention it, I remember." She motioned for them to follow her into the classroom. Harry glanced around as he and the rest of the DA walked through her office. It looked much the same as it had the last time he'd seen it, except that her desk was cluttered.

The classroom was cold, and Ginny lit the fire while Neville began to move desks and chairs. Professor Tanner sat down at her desk, seemingly lost in her thoughts.

"Tonight I'd like to talk about Voldemort," announced Harry loudly. With a crash, Neville dropped the desk he was levitating, and even Ginny turned to look at him, surprised. "He's getting stronger and stronger," continued Harry. "I think you should all hear what he's up to. Most of you read the article last year in the Quibbler. Some of you know what happened in the Ministry of Magic..." Tanner was staring at him now, looking puzzled. "Tonight I want to take the DA one step further. We've been keeping in contact with Fred and George, and they've agreed to host a DA meeting at their shop over the winter holiday." He took a deep breath. "We need to be ready to face Voldemort. What happened in the Ministry of Magic was just the beginning. We're in a war now, and I think that we can make a difference."

There was silence for a moment, and then Ginny nodded. "I'm with you, Harry," she said confidently.

"I'm with you," said Hermione as well, though she looked worried and glanced in Tanner's direction.

"I'm with you, too," said Neville and Ron, nearly simultaneously. One by one, the rest of the DA spoke their agreement, and Harry felt warm inside.

***

Lucius had purchased Severus's last travel case. It had been meticulously crafted from the finest dragon hide. It had contained precisely spelled compartments, and his initials had been stitched in expensive non-flammable thread on the side. It had also cost the same as a year's teaching salary. Severus tried not to think of where it was now, and what was being done with its contents.

Severus carefully examined his new potions travel case. He could not afford anything so extravagant, and had purchased instead a more economical version. He'd already bottled several crucial potions and had set up cauldrons to make some of the advanced healing draughts; by the winter holiday the case would be, if not as complete as before, at least sufficiently stocked.

He placed another vial inside and picked up his list. There was an impatient tapping at the window, and he waved his hand absently to open the window and admit the messenger. Peering at the list, he checked off an item as the bird landed on his worktable.

Looking up, he was shocked to see Lucius's eagle owl. It stared at him reproachfully for a moment before dropping a heavy parchment envelope onto the stone surface of his worktable. It flew away quickly, as if it could not stand to be in his presence a moment longer than necessary. Severus closed the window, but the chill air lingered.

He picked it up. The creamy parchment bore the Malfoy crest pressed into dark green wax. He knew already what was within it, as he himself had sent the very same type of missive to Regulus years ago, and his heart squeezed painfully as he opened it with hands that shook a little. There was a single, blank sheet of paper inside.

Slowly the word Traitor appeared, written in Lucius's elegant handwriting. The final 'r' was strangely smudged, as if the hand writing it had been unsteady.

The black ink slowly faded away, to be replaced by the glittering green image of the Dark Mark, the snake baring its fangs menacingly. Underneath it swam the words, 'You'll Be Next', this time in Nott's handwriting, and Severus felt sick inside. They had been his friends, and even though he had betrayed them for the right reasons, he still had betrayed them. He tossed the parchment into the fire just as it predictably burst into black flames.

***

Sarah stood at the edge of the railing and watched as a staircase lazily realigned itself. Here, in the dark of night, in the near silence, she could feel the tremendous power of the castle. So many people had left their mark within its walls. Though it had been many, many years she could still sense Salazar's potent touch; his magic had a unique feel to it that was quite unmistakable, much like the Headmaster's.

Her fingers rested on cold marble, and absently she traced a bit of worn filigree, wondering who the crafter had been. Which somehow brought her thought back to Severus, the crafter of her old pain. She grimaced at that. All evening she had tried to think of anything but his awful poison, and all evening she had failed, except for an hour or two when she had listened intently to Potter's surprising tale.

Her mind could not be distracted from the thought of his poison; it circled around and around in her thoughts. The potion could be brewed again. It could be applied again. Lucius. Jacek. Pain.

There was a noise behind her, the soft scuff of a boot, and she tensed. "Yes?"

"Professor Tanner?"

A student. She almost felt relieved that it was not Severus. She turned slowly to see Nott standing there, a calculating look on his face. "It is rather late," she said neutrally.

"I was just getting back to my dorm," he said lightly, not offering any excuse. He stared at her for a long moment, and she wondered if she should take points. "Actually, I've been meaning to speak with you about a matter..." He was doing his best to look casual, but there was an undercurrent of both arrogance and unease to his words that made her suspicious.

"Speak, then."

He looked around nervously. "Perhaps we could find somewhere else..."

"Either speak to me about your matter or return to your dorm."

He glanced one last time down the hallway that he had presumably emerged from, and then stepped closer to her. "I've been given a message to pass along to you."

"From whom?"

The closer he came, the bolder he looked. He showed her an envelope bearing the Dark Mark.

"An offer," she said.

"Yes," he said, looking surprised, though it faded quickly. "I--here." He drew closer and held it out toward her.

"You've already read it," she said, noticing the broken wax. "Tell me what it says."

He flushed and looked around again. Turning back to her, he pitched his voice for her ears alone. "The Dark Lord is offering you a place with the Death Eaters," he said.

Ah, he seeks to flush the game from its hiding place. "Really."

"He says that he can protect you from Mister--from Lucius." She froze. "You would be safe. He says that he knows of your previous arrangement, and would be willing to duplicate it, at least in part, in return for your knowledge and services."

In return for my slavery and the use of the Painstone. "I must refuse," she said calmly.

"He won't be so generous in the future," he said, appearing affronted. "You'll never get a better offer."

"I have said no."

"If that is your decision..." he said, looking peeved.

"Yes," she said, with some bite. She wondered what the next move should be. Send him back to the dorm? Would that make him even more arrogant, that he had threatened her and not been punished?

He took a step closer. "I have something to ask of you as well."

"Another offer?"

"Of a sort," he said. He looked excited and frightened all at once. "I want you to teach me blood magic."

She wasn't entirely surprised. "That doesn't seem like an offer."

He was nearly as tall as she was, and he was staring into her eyes, his own lit with intensity. "Will you teach me?"

"No."

"I know things," he said softly. "Things about you that you don't want anyone else to know. Things that will get you fired, or worse--thrown out of Hogwarts, or into Azkaban."

"Am I to understand that you are threatening me?" she said calmly.

"I'm only telling you the consequences of your decision to say no," he said, one corner of his mouth turning up slightly.

She regarded him for a long moment. "I find it rather difficult to believe that you are in possession of such information. You might be bluffing."

He flushed again. "You're a Sanguimagus," he said in a nasty tone of voice.

"As any astute reader of the Prophet could have guessed," she said dismissively. "You'll have to do better than that."

He seemed angry, but she could also see that he was still mentally on his feet. "You have a Painstone."

"Ah," she said.

Bold again, he smiled nastily. "A Memory Charm won't help you, either. There's a Pensieve...it holds all of the relevant thoughts, and it's hidden in a safe place. Don't think that you can make me forget what I know."

"My answer is still no."

His eyes narrowed. "The Dark Lord knows where to strike. Snape is just as vulnerable as you are, and not nearly as useful any longer. Teach me and I'll see to it that he's left alone."

She almost laughed, though her stomach had turned to ice. "Severus can take care of himself." She paused. "Do you think you have that power? Do you think you can bend the Dark Lord to your will, dictate to him which person shall or shall not be his victim?"

"I want to learn," he said heatedly. "I want to learn blood magic. You'll teach it to me, or I'll see to it that he's killed."

"Then I'll just have to kill you." She held his gaze.

For a second he looked as if he would laugh, and then he became pale. "You can't."

"Can't?" she said. "An incorrect word choice. Of course I can."

"I'm a student--you can't--Dumbledore will--"

"Do you really think the Headmaster will care, once he's seen the Dark Mark on your arm?" His face was almost white now. "As for me, I will hide even more thoroughly than you can imagine."

"You're bluffing. There is no way you could..." He was sweating.

"We are at an impasse. There is nothing to be gained from further conversation. Either you will act out on your threat, or I will act out on mine. I have a feeling that mine is, by far, the simpler of the two." She smiled coldly. "You should return to your dorm."

He stood absolutely still for a long moment, and she was motionless as well, waiting for his response. She did not want to think of the repercussions that were sure to follow if he attacked her. Despite her bravado, she knew that there would be serious difficulties should she cause him harm. He gave the barest of nods, and backed away until he had all but disappeared in the dim light of the hallway.

The stack of worries that kept her awake at night seemed to be increasing. She wondered how the Headmaster slept at all.