The Last Sanguimagus

Severus dreamed.

He is walking through the woods, the wind rustling and tumbling leaves at his feet. He is drawn forward, pulled toward the heart of the forest.

The trees shrink from his touch. He can see blank stretches of sky. Not blue, just a puzzling grey, with no sun in sight.

He takes step after step, his feet falling at precise intervals, an unknown destination prickling just ahead. His hands tingle. He is being led to something he needs to see.

Behind the next tree he spots it. A black dog, huge and threatening. It growls. Its muzzle drips with blood and gore.

Beyond it, a corpse, so familiar, and his heart breaks in his chest even as he cries out, "Albus! No!"

***

Sarah stared at the ceiling of her room, lit by the faint glow of the fireplace. Bits of nightmares still lurked in the corners of her mind, and she knew that sleep would not return to her.

It was far too early to be awake. She could feel the dullness of fatigue in her bones, but her mind was unwilling to sink once again into another unpleasant dream of Severus, or worse, Lucius. She sighed and left the warmth of the bed, putting on her robes and entering her office. The fire rose up in response to a quick flick of her wand, and she sat down on the couch, wishing anew that she could sleep.

The statue she had brought from the storeroom still stood impassively next to the wall. She gestured with her wand, and levitated it closer. She had nearly finished the enchantments that would allow it to monitor the hall in front of her door.

It was sad that it had come to this, having to safeguard herself even inside Hogwarts. She idly cast a few more charms on the statue, watching as the marble absorbed them. The firelight reflecting on its face gave it a dreamy expression.

Her thoughts drifted to kissing Severus. It was foolish to think that she had done it partially because she'd been worried about losing him as a friend and ally; by kissing him she had lost him as a friend just as surely. A line had been crossed that could not be undone.

She had wanted to kiss him.

Another charm struck the surface of the statue and was assimilated, patterns briefly appearing before subsiding into nothingness once more.

She longed for the sharp and uncomplicated mindset that accompanied using the Painstone regularly. It was simple to use logic, to allow the razor of choice to take her down the correct path.

There was no correct path here. Every direction led only to darkness, murky and complicated.

Another spell lit the statue from within, showing key charms and their placements, and she frowned as she rearranged them, alleviating stress points.

She stood up, placing her wand in her pocket and bringing out her knife. She couldn't help but feel superstitious as she did so; there was no real reason to use blood magic on her watching device, honestly, except that it made her feel more secure. Spells could be changed or altered. Blood remained the same.

Faint predawn light filtered in through her windows, giving the room a rosy blush, and she smeared her blood on the statue's forehead, adding her own touch to the enchanted item. It did not seem to absorb it readily, and she was forced to add more power until the blood magic finally slipped in.

Sitting down heavily on the couch, she let out a shaky breath. Not the best way to greet the new day, by far. At least she had no classes to teach.

If she would even be allowed to teach them, after the article.

There was a knock, and she half-turned, surprised. "Enter," she said, pointing her wand at the door, which opened obediently. She felt dizzy and wondered vaguely why Severus hadn't barged in after knocking as he usually did.

Aurora took a step into the room. "Good morning, Sarah. Do you mind?"

Sarah looked up in surprise. "No, certainly not," she said.

"I don't have much time...I still have marking to do after breakfast, but I wanted to speak to you," she said, sitting down in a chair and smoothing her robes with one hand.

Sarah nodded. Black spots formed in her vision and faded. She blinked a few times to clear her head.

"I've read the article," said Aurora simply. "Is it true? Did you do those things?"

Sarah hesitated only for a moment, caught off-guard. "Well...yes."

"You've killed people," she said, her voice full of disbelief.

"Yes."

"You're a Sanguimagus."

"Yes."

Aurora stared at her, her eyes studying her, and there was no sound except for the crackle of the flames in the fireplace. "I misjudged you," she finally said. "When we first met, I thought you were...harmless."

"No one is harmless."

"Yes...but most people aren't murderers." Aurora's gaze was sharp and intense. "Most people don't study Dark Magic."

Sarah put tact aside. "What is it, exactly, that you expect me to say?"

"Silas was right about you." She leaned forward. "You've put the whole school in danger."

"Is that what you think?" Sarah leaned forward as well. "Let me explain the situation to you from my point of view. I am in possession of skills that the Dark Lord would definitely wish to acquire. I also have a Dark item which he has expressed interest in using. I have no desire to see either given to him.

"My paths, such as they are, involve either living here at Hogwarts, crawling under a rock, or self-destruction. I have tried living under a rock, and it's unpleasant, at best. I have no particular care for self-destruction, either. Hogwarts is the best choice for me at the moment."

Aurora's expression was shrewd. "And if You-Know-Who attacks you here? If he threatens students?"

"I'll do what I must," said Sarah, "as I have always done."

They sat in silence. The room grew brighter as the sun rose; Aurora continued to watch her, only making her feel more awkward, until the Astronomy professor appeared to come to some internal decision. "There's one other thing..."

"Yes?"

"Severus."

Sarah was surprised, to say the least, and the confusion must have shown on her face, because Aurora's expression was almost smug.

"When I first started teaching here, I was attracted to him." Aurora leaned back in the chair, which creaked alarmingly. "He was dark, mysterious...a very romantic figure, and we were the same age. One of the other teachers noticed, and took me aside to give me the best advice of my life."

Sarah was having difficulty understanding the point. "Which was...?"

"To view him as a colleague, and nothing more," she said. "I was mistaken about his traits. Over the next few months, as I talked to him and watched him, I saw that he was vindictive, petty, and selfish. He's not a mature person, Sarah, and he's...I just can't see him in any sort of relationship. Ever."

"I see."

"I'm not exaggerating," she continued. "He has a bad temper. He's stubborn, cunning, and he...Sarah, I know you don't want to hear this, but he's the worst possible man to get involved with."

"I understand what you're saying."

Aurora paused, and frowned. "I don't think you do, or he wouldn't be visiting your room so often. I've seen the way you look at him, too, especially recently."

"I've listened to your advice," said Sarah, keeping her tone carefully neutral. "Thank you."

"You've listened," she said shrewdly. "But you haven't really heard. When you were first hired, we all thought--"

"Who are you referring to as 'we'?" interrupted Sarah.

"Well, the staff." Aurora looked wary. "Most of us, at least. You were so aloof...and there were these rumors that you had done something awful in your past, and Silas kept saying that you were a Dark witch. You didn't talk to any of us, at first, and then Filius invited you up to our weekly tea, and we were all curious to see if you'd join us.

"There was one Sunday where you stared at Severus, and then you left suddenly, and he got up and followed after you...Pomona noticed, actually, and pointed it out. That's when I knew. I mean, we'd been joking about it for days, and then it turned out to be true." She took a deep breath. "You're feeling something for him, at the very least, and he's feeling something for you. I've known him long enough to be able to see it. That's when I realized I had to say something to you."

Sarah's face was uncomfortably warm. So they have been talking about me. It wasn't unexpected, truthfully, but neither was it welcome. She felt Silas's hand at the root of the matter, amplifying the others' unease. "I have listened, and heard your advice, and I must tell you that nothing you have said comes as a surprise."

Aurora blinked. "Oh."

"Severus's nature has been quite evident to me for some time," she added. "Considering my treatment at his hands, I feel that it might, in fact, be even more evident to me than most."

Aurora paled. "Yes, well, I...but you see, he's so different now. Once he began spying, he changed quite a bit, or so I hear, though he's still..."

Sarah stood up. "I would like to attend breakfast. Unless, that is, there is some further point to be made..."

Aurora stood up as well. "Yes, well, I warned you," she said in a miffed tone, and left.

Sarah rubbed her eyes, trying to banish the feeling that the day was not going to get any better.

***

The corridor rang with footsteps. "We're going to be late for breakfast, Ron, hurry up!" said Hermione.

Ron caught up with them, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry, I overslept."

"We probably shouldn't have stayed up so late," said Harry, feeling just as tired. They'd been discussing the article about Professor Tanner long into the night.

"Watch it!" said Ron as a first year bumped into him.

"S-sorry!" blurted out the boy, who then sped off.

"No running!" called out Hermione, which had no visible effect on the boy.

"First years," said Ron, yawning.

They walked down the marble staircase and turned into the Great Hall. Most of the students were already there, chattering away.

"She's still here!" said Hermione in disbelief, looking toward the end of the hall.

Harry looked up. Tanner sat perfectly still at the staff table, ramrod-straight as always, though she seemed paler than usual. He sat down with the others at the Gryffindor table next to Neville and speared a banger with his fork.

Owls streamed in, a bit later than usual. A teeny blur suddenly streaked across the table, knocking over Neville's pumpkin juice. Ron grabbed the tiny owl while it was distracted and tried desperately to untie the small package attached to its foot while it hooted and wiggled in his hand, smearing sticky juice everywhere. "A letter...and Mum's sent me a tart," he said, brightening as he finally wrestled the parcel away from Pigwidgeon, wiping the excess juice on his robes.

Hedwig landed gracefully and dropped a letter into Harry's hand. He immediately recognized Lupin's handwriting, and stashed it in his pocket for later. Hedwig daintily plucked a bit of toast from Harry's plate, pointedly demonstrating her manners. Pigwidgeon was oblivious, however, as he had managed to immerse himself in a pudding, and was now hooting excitedly.

Several owls approached the staff table, which was unusual, as the teachers rarely received their mail there. Most of the birds seemed to be flying straight toward Professor Tanner. She looked up with an expression of shock on her face as they began bombarding her with letters.

"Some of those are Howlers!" said Ron. "Somebody sent a Howler to a teacher? That's mental!"

The owls flew out of the Great Hall, leaving Tanner with a pile of mail on the table in front of her.

"Is she going to ignore them?" said Neville, looking nervous. "It's always better to open them, and fast...the sooner the better."

Nearly everyone was staring at Tanner, teachers included. She brought out her wand and made several intricate gestures, deftly separating the letters into two differently-colored piles, Howlers and non-Howlers.

"Fifteen Howlers, at least," said Ron, taking another drink of pumpkin juice.

Harry could see Tanner's lips move. Her stubby little wand made a quick motion, but he was too far away to hear what she had cast.

The entire pile of Howlers suddenly burst into flame, the fire whooshing upward like a bright pillar. There were squeals and fragments of shouting and then there was nothing but ash on the plate.

"I didn't know you could do that," said Ron, sounding impressed.

***

Severus regarded lunch as an obstacle. He had many things to accomplish, and little time, but he dared not skip the meal, as it was fuel he would need for the rest of the day.

A day that was passing swiftly. That morning, before breakfast, the Headmaster had asked Severus to brew the Salus Potion, and when he saw the Daily Prophet he understood why. Death Eaters had attacked twice during the night, killing two Ministry workers and their families and destroying their homes. The Headmaster had no time to discuss anything further, being on his way to the Ministry.

Severus shivered, thinking of the black dog, hoping it was not an omen of things to come.

He finished the last of his tea, and strode out of the hall, hoping to use the time he had left before the next class to do some of the exhausting prep work necessary for the Salus Potion. As he crossed the entrance hall, he noticed a grim-faced Minerva making her way toward the marble staircase with an older witch and wizard in tow. He wondered who they were. They didn't seem the right age to have a child currently attending Hogwarts, though it wasn't entirely out of the realm of possibility.

He walked swiftly down the steps to the dungeon, and tried to shift his mind to the potion instead, but it wandered to Sarah. She confused him. The night before had seen such a dichotomy of emotions that he was still puzzling them out.

He wanted to be near her, yet at the same time he wanted to stay as far away as possible. He needed to keep his hands clean. With his ostracism from the Death Eaters complete, he had only the Order to rely upon to keep him from Azkaban. Throwing his lot in with Sarah could only complicate things and jeopardize his uneasy balance with the other Order members. And why should he? She might be using him for his connections. Clearly she still had feelings for Grindelwald, which hurt to even think about.

Nothing could ever be simple. He wanted to see the destruction of the Dark Lord, and be alive and well afterward. Sarah did not fit into his carefully-laid plans. He tried to bring his mind back under the discipline of brewing potions, but he could not stop thinking of her.

He sat down at his worktable and put his head in his hands. As much as he was loath to admit it, his endgame had changed, and he would have to plan accordingly. He could no longer deny that he felt something for Sarah. He wanted her to survive the destruction of the Dark Lord.

***

The afternoon sun streamed into the Gryffindor common room, and Harry put the finishing touches on his Potions essay. It wasn't often that he finished homework early, but Hermione had insisted that they use their free afternoon wisely, and he had to admit that it felt good to be ahead for once.

Snape had been quite preoccupied during their class earlier, but that didn't mean the essay he'd assigned had been any shorter than usual. Ron had complained about it during lunch incessantly. Harry rolled up his parchment and put it aside.

The letter in his pocket poked him in the arm as he did so, and he pulled it out, looking around to make certain they were alone.

"Who's that from?" asked Ron.

"Lupin," said Harry, opening it and scanning it quickly. Hermione looked up from her essay. "Says he looks forward to seeing us over the holidays...wants to make certain you both have permission to stay over."

"I've already spoken to my parents," said Hermione.

"Anything else?" asked Ron.

"Bad news," said Harry, frowning. "Kreacher's died..."

"You call that bad news?" Ron grinned.

"...and just before he died he somehow set Buckbeak free, and he hasn't come back."

"Oh no," said Hermione. "He might find his way back to Hagrid! We'd better go and warn him."

"You really think he'll find his way back to Hogwarts?" asked Ron.

"If he does, it's better to be prepared," declared Hermione, closing her books and levitating them one by one into her bookbag. "Besides, we haven't seen Hagrid outside of class for two weeks."

"I just hope he doesn't try to feed us," said Ron.

***

There was a knock at Severus's door. "Enter," he called out irritably, unable to open it himself because he was attempting to add a particularly volatile substance to the potion, one grain at a time. The seconds ticked by until he finished stirring them in, and the potion changed colors, shifting from a cool lime into magenta.

He sighed in relief and wiped his forehead with a tea towel. "What is it?" he growled, turning toward his visitor.

"Good evening, Severus," said the Headmaster pleasantly.

"Ah, good evening." Severus wiped his hands off for good measure. "The Salus Potion is nowhere near ready, sir..."

"Yes, I know." The Headmaster handed him a folded parchment. "Here is the list I mentioned to you earlier. The potions are listed in order of importance."

"Yes..." Severus unfolded the parchment and scanned its contents. "Have you come to a decision about who shall undertake the purchasing of ingredients?"

"Minerva shall accompany you to Diagon Alley over the weekend." He conjured a large, comfortable chair and sat down. "You're right, of course; you are the only one who can make sense of such a complicated list, and purchase the highest quality ingredients."

A stool nudged the back of his leg, and Severus took the hint and sat down. "A few of these potions will require ingredients that are...less than legal."

"As you've mentioned before." The Headmaster gave him a firm look. "You will not attempt to purchase said items. It's better for Mundungus to do so."

"Yes, sir," said Severus automatically.

The Headmaster looked thoughtful for a moment, stroking his white beard. "I've spoken to Kingsley about the basilisk you found in the Chamber of Secrets. He has, as you know, a natural curiosity about such creatures. He said that they normally do not reach that size in such a short period of time."

"Clearly blood magic is at work." He focused on the list, mentally putting together the quantities of ingredients he would need.

"Of course. The chamber is permeated with it. Have you given any thought to where the secret passages in the Chamber of Secrets might terminate? I have a feeling that one of them leads directly to the hatching chamber."

"Hmm? No, I haven't."

"I have thought, for many years, that the other leads to one of these rooms." His keen blue eyes scanned the walls. "These are the original rooms that Salazar lived in when he taught at the school, and he most likely used a secret way to get to the chamber without being seen. The entrance in the bathroom was meant for the basilisk itself, after all. I would hazard that the trigger for the passage is reliant upon blood magic..." He was quiet for a moment.

Severus looked up. "Headmaster, there's something...I..."

"Yes?" Blue eyes fixed upon him, sharp and knowing.

"I dreamt of a Grim," he said. "I dreamt that you were dead."

"There are worse things than death." He smiled. "Should I take it, then, that your feelings have changed about dream-readings, and Divination?"

"Hardly," sneered Severus. There was a sharp rapping at the door. Severus gestured and it opened.

"Albus, there you are," said Minerva, looking relieved. "There's a reporter from the Daily Prophet here. I told him you were away, but he threw a frightful fit and insisted upon speaking with you."

The Headmaster stood up and the chair disappeared. "Terry Bramley?"

"He wrote the article about Sarah," said Severus, frowning.

"Yes, that's him." Minerva narrowed her eyes. "He mentioned that he interviewed the Millstones, too, after they talked to Sarah."

"I believe that was a bluff," said the Headmaster. "When they left this afternoon, they mentioned that they did not want their story revealed further, and I cannot imagine that he convinced them otherwise. He has been hanging around Hogsmeade and the gates of Hogwarts; perhaps he identified them as they were leaving."

"We'd best get upstairs before he snoops any further," said Minerva with a sniff of disdain.

"Yes, good evening, Severus," said the Headmaster as he left.

"Good evening," echoed Minerva.

Severus saw them to the door, and then closed it, his hand lingering on the frame. His mind buzzed with new developments.

The same reporter who had written the exposé on Sarah was now interviewing the Headmaster. Severus felt the urge to catch Bramley on his way out and find out who had leaked him the information, preferably in a painful manner.

He wondered who the Millstones were, and why they had talked to Sarah. He couldn't place the name; there were no students that he knew of with that last name currently attending Hogwarts.

He hesitated before walking through the door, but the vague worry that crept up his spine could not be allayed. He walked swiftly up the stairs toward Sarah's room.

***

Sarah lay prone on the couch, her feet sticking out over one arm. She stared into the fire, watching the flames dancing, remembering Das Herrenhaus. The pillow under her cheek was soft, but she was not sleepy in the least.

A sudden knocking at the door alarmed her, until Severus came in. With a wave of his hand he closed the door, and then gestured for a chair to glide closer. He sat down, not taking his eyes off her. "What is going on?"

"I am not in the mood for company," she said, putting her head back down on the pillow and once again staring into the fire.

He didn't reply at first, but when he did speak, his voice was tinged with irritation. "I won't trouble you for long, then."

She drew a long, shaky breath. "I don't know why you're troubling me at all."

"Is something...the matter?" He looked extremely uncomfortable.

"Obviously you are not going to respect my wishes," she said, more sharply than she'd intended. "Tell me what you rushed up here to say." She closed her eyes.

There was a long pause. "I spoke with the Headmaster. The reporter who wrote the article about you is here at Hogwarts."

"Fine. Thank you. Good evening." She did not open her eyes.

Another pause, and she could almost hear his indignation. "There is the little matter of the article. If anything else appears in the papers I have no doubt you'll be sacked."

"Yes, I gathered that. Good evening."

"This is not a matter to joke about," he said softly. "If you lose the Headmaster's protection, they will find you."

She did not reply. Her eyes felt itchy, and she rubbed them with one hand.

"The Headmaster also seems to think that one of the secret passages in the Chamber of Secrets leads to--"

"I don't care if it leads to Minerva's favorite tin of biscuits," she said wearily. "I have other things on my mind right now."

The chair creaked. "The Millstones," he said finally.

"Yes." He was always one step ahead. She dropped her hands from her face, letting them dangle awkwardly over the edge of the couch.

"Who are they, exactly?"

She opened her eyes, surprised. Apparently he wasn't as far ahead as she'd assumed. "Mary's parents."

"Mary." He seemed perplexed, and then a look of understanding came into his eyes. "The girl at Das Herrenhaus."

"Precisely." She closed her eyes again.

"The article in the Prophet led them to you." He exhaled. "What did they want?"

"The usual for this situation, I'd imagine," she said in clipped tones. "Hello, you're the one who crushed our daughter's throat, please tell us exactly how it happened...ah, her last words, thank you, too bad they were about burning her sigil into your face. Then the awkward goodbye, where they are thinking what an abomination I am, and how horrible it is that I am standing here, alive, and she is not."

"If you are an abomination," he said in an icy voice, "then I shudder to think what that makes me."

"Whatever you did, you have more than atoned for," she said, her eyes feeling uncomfortably warm. "I, on the other hand, have murdered and cast Dark Magic for the most selfish reason of all, simply to survive."

"You know nothing of what I've done, nor why. You have no idea what I've...made up for." His voice crackled with anger.

"I know one thing. I have the scars on my back to prove it." She opened her eyes, to see him staring at her, livid. "And I needn't remind you that you healed them. What I have done, no healing can touch."

His body was tense and his black eyes glittered. "I've heard your story, and you've done nothing to be ashamed of."

"I think I have," she said quietly. She stared into the flames. "I killed a woman...a girl, really. I strangled her with my bare hands. I killed a man...a man who had taken me in, sheltered me, helped me and taught me so much. I cut his throat and watched him bleed to death."

"You had reason to do so."

"It didn't hurt so much when I did it," she said weakly. "It seemed so clear and logical at that moment, that there was no other way. But now it's all muddled. If you had seen the looks on her parents' faces, as I spoke to them..."

"I understand precisely what you mean." He looked at her pointedly.

"But your actions were indirect. You did not slice through someone's jugular."

"Don't bandy words with me," he said dangerously. "That particular potion killed nineteen people."

"With Lucius's help."

"Without my potion they would have lived," he said sharply. The look on his face grew cruel. "And I notice that you left Macnair off your list. Did you enjoy it too much?"

She inhaled in shock, staring at him. She remembered the horrible gurgling noise Macnair made as he collapsed, and she covered her face with her hands as the emotions threatened to swamp her. Using the Painstone for so long had kept her distant from her own emotions, as if she was behind a waterfall, removed from herself, but now they were crushing her, suffocating her.

She wished she could use the Painstone right then. She let her hands drop again.

His face was unreadable, except for his lips, which were drawn in a tight line. His hands gripped the arms of the chair.

"I didn't say Macnair's name because I didn't think of him," she said softly. "I only wanted to get you away from them. I panicked, thinking he was going to drag me back to the Dark Lord, I...didn't know what to do, and the Painstone was in my hand, and it was the only way. Once I began to use it I couldn't...I didn't want to stop." Her voice wavered.

Severus looked away, staring into the fire, a muscle in his cheek jumping. "He probably deserved it," he said grudgingly.

"I don't know," she said helplessly. "That decision should not have been mine."

"Some decisions are unavoidable."

"It wasn't. I could have just as easily left him there alive. But I couldn't stop thinking of what he had done to me, and I was so afraid of him..."

"You were trying to protect yourself. The Wizengamot would most likely consider it self-defense." He sounded bitter.

"It was murder." She opened her eyes again, looking into the flames. "It cannot be termed as anything else." First he calls me to task for murdering Macnair; now he defends me. She could not understand what he was driving at.

"Yes. But in war, there are such things as extenuating circumstances."

"I doubt I would have a friendly enough reception in the Wizengamot for them to even consider it. The fact remains that I killed him. He will never draw breath again, nor Mary, nor Erich. I've robbed them of their lives, yet I still live." She drew in another shaky breath. "The Painstone did not cut off everything. But this...these feelings are so overwhelming now...I can't help but wonder whether I have any right at all to be here."

Severus looked shocked. "You have every right to be here. Dumbledore has vouched for you himself."

"As well as being extremely charitable, Dumbledore has no particular desire for the Dark Lord to possess the Painstone. I understand his reasoning, and I understand why he's given me sanctuary. But I still feel...undeserving."

"Undeserving?"

"My presence here has brought undue attention--"

"Do not forget how very useful you are. Especially to Potter, who wears your amulet. And think how very useful it would be to the Dark Lord to possess you." His lip curled.

She felt very weary suddenly, and sick to death of talking. He was not being clear about what he wanted from her, and she had no desire to continue this unwelcome conversation. "It has been a long day. Good night." Irrationally angry that he hadn't left, and was now forcing her to leave her own office, she stood up, grabbing her pillow.

His expression was unfathomable. "Very well, then." He sounded churlish. "Good night." He stood up as well, dramatically spinning on his heel and slamming the door behind him.

Sighing with relief, she lay back down on the couch, stuffing the pillow under head and staring into the flames once again.