The Last Sanguimagus

"Oi!" said Ron, coming into the Gryffindor common room. He sat down next to Harry and Hermione. Harry looked up from his Transfigurations essay, and thought he smelled smoke.

"Your hair's singed," said Hermione with an odd expression, reaching her hand out to touch it.

"I was just in the Owlery," announced Ron. "Got in a bit of a tussle with Theodore Nott."

"Nott?" asked Harry, surprised. "What was he doing?"

"Owling someone, I'd imagine," said Hermione.

"He had an owl, a big one, and he was attaching a package to its leg." Ron shifted in his seat, looking around the empty room to be certain no one was listening. "He had just finished when I came in. Saw me and seemed scared, and pulled out his wand and tried to hex me. I knocked him off his feet, the git!" He looked proud of himself.

Hermione looked curious. "Could you tell what he was owling?"

"Dunno. But it was heavy, that's for sure." Ron seemed miffed that she hadn't congratulated him on defending himself. "It didn't look like any of the school's owls, or a Ministry owl."

"What did Crabbe and Goyle do?" asked Harry.

"They weren't there, believe it or not," said Ron. "It was just us in the tower, that's all."

"Obviously Nott wanted this to be a secret," mused Hermione. She tapped her quill on the table absent-mindedly.

"He's a clever one," said Ron grudgingly. "He's got Parkinson eating out of his hand...did you see the expression on Malfoy's face today, when they were snogging at lunch?"

"And he's somehow convinced Malfoy's thugs to follow him as well." Harry felt a stab of pleasure to see Malfoy alone and ignored, but at the same time, he worried that Nott could be much, much worse. "We'll have to watch Nott. He must be up to something."

Hermione put down her quill. "What could he have here at Hogwarts that would be of use to anyone on the outside?"

"I don't know," said Harry. "Books from the library?"

"There are worse books than those," said Hermione, frowning. "I can't imagine anyone wouldn't be able to find any of them somewhere else. Then again, he might have just been owling something to a friend."

Ron made a scornful noise. "A friend? Any friends he's got are here at Hogwarts. And his father's a Death Eater. He was arrested at the Ministry, along with Malfoy's dad!"

"I think he's owled his dad something before," said Harry. "I think he sent the potion sample you stole from Snape to the Death Eaters. I think that's why Snape got caught. It was something he wasn't supposed to be making. In the article, it said that he brewed a cure for Professor Tanner."

Hermione flushed. "I didn't know what it was. I thought it might be something...Dark."

"Could it be a potion?" said Ron thoughtfully.

"Why would he send them a potion?" asked Hermione. "That doesn't make any sense. I'm certain Voldemort has his own potion-makers."

"Maybe it was a potion ingredient, then," said Ron defensively. "Unicorn hair or something. The Forbidden Forest is full of things."

The portrait slid aside suddenly, and Dennis and Colin Creevey entered, enthusiastically talking about the giant squid. Harry exchanged glances with Ron and Hermione, and dipped his quill into ink, scratching words anew on his Transfiguration essay.

***

The fire burned high and hot in her office, and Sarah sat on the couch, marking the talismans that had been handed in that day from her class of sixth years. She was impressed. Many of the students showed promise. Granger's talisman, in fact, was near-perfect.

The Slytherin students had not come to class, which was unsurprising. Only the Gryffindor students had attended. Potter had scheduled his next DA meeting with her, while the Weasley boy had slyly asked her how to incinerate howlers.

Her desk was awash with mail from witches and wizards everywhere. Most of the letters were condemnatory, raging against her and telling her that she should be shut in Azkaban for the rest of her natural life. Surprisingly enough, though, a few were from those who expressed a desire to learn blood magic. Two were from publishers, eager to have her story, and there was a proposal of marriage from one Mr. Edgar Thicklewaite in Sussex.

It was much later than she would have liked, and even though she could feel how bone-tired her body was, her mind was another thing entirely. She would be lucky to sleep that night. Pausing in her marking, she stared into the flames of her fireplace. She hadn't spoken to Severus at all that day. He had swept past her earlier in the Great Hall, not even pausing to make eye contact. She put down her quill and flexed her fingers.

There was a sudden, frantic banging at her door, and she leapt up out of her seat in shock. Looking at the clock, she realized that it was two in the morning. She couldn't imagine who it could be.

To her great surprise, at the door was Pansy Parkinson, one of the Slytherins who was now boycotting her class. She looked disheveled, as if she had dressed in a great hurry, and her face was marked with tears.

"Miss Parkinson? What are you--"

"Please!" cried the girl, obviously in great distress. "Please, Professor Tanner, you have to come, you have to help him!"

Had Severus been injured somehow? Her heart squeezed in terror. "Who?"

"Theodore!" Miss Parkinson looked desperate. "Theodore Nott. We--he needs your help!"

"I don't understand," said Sarah. "Has he been hurt? Come in, and we'll Floo to the infirmary, and Madam Pomfrey--"

"No!" she shrieked. "He's--you're the only one who can help him! You have to!" She grabbed Sarah's wrist and began pulling her out of the door.

"Calm down. You're not making any sense! Madam Pomfrey is far better prepared to deal with--"

"He tried to do blood magic," she wailed, "and now he's dying. You have to help him!"

Sarah stared at her in horror. "You can't be serious."

"Yes, I am, now will you move, please?" She tugged more insistently.

"Where is he?" she demanded.

"In his dorm room," she said, wiping tears from her face with the back of her free hand. "We don't have time..."

"Very well," said Sarah, feeling a sense of foreboding as she followed the girl down the corridor.

"He was experimenting." Parkinson had finally let go of her wrist when they reached the steps that led down to the dungeons. "He had a book...he sent away for it...I thought it was rubbish, but he was sure it would work..."

She groaned inwardly. There was a very real market for such things, just as there was a market for false talismans and Kwikspell courses. Often books that purported to contain the secrets of the Sanguimagi were merely misleading. Occasionally they were outright dangerous.

They were in the dungeons now, and Sarah looked fleetingly at Severus's door as they passed it, wondering if she should wake him. In fact, she felt more and more uneasy as they arrived at the door to the Slytherin common room and Pansy said, "Nobility," which let them through.

It seemed that nearly every student was awake. They were all in various stages of dress, some in robes, some in pyjamas, some in dressing gowns...and all of them were staring at her.

Merlin, she thought in fright. There were students here whose fathers were Death Eaters, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up as she realized that this could be a trap. She stopped for a moment, registering that more than a few held wands.

"Come on!" said Parkinson shrilly.

It was then that Sarah heard the screams of someone who was clearly in horrific pain. She hardly needed Parkinson's guidance to navigate the maze of rooms that made up the Slytherin dormitories; she merely followed the agonised cries.

Parkinson opened the door to one of the dorm rooms, and the screams grew exponentially louder. Sarah had the urge to clap her hands over her ears, and stepped through the doorway, where a few teenagers were gathered around a still form lying on the floor. She briefly glanced at them, noting Mr. Crabbe and Mr. Goyle as well as a few older students she didn't recognise, before turning back to the problem at hand.

"Merlin," Sarah said in shock. There was a strange metal device next to him, tall and thin. "What is this?" She winced at the horrible, raspy screams, and pulled out her wand. "Silencio!"

It was suddenly eerily quiet in the room. She could hear the other boys' frightened breathing.

"It's a Muggle device," said Parkinson in a rush. "He read that you had to add the blood to your own...he didn't know how, but he figured it out, he stole it from somewhere, and then he added the blood...Get out of the way!" She pushed one of the boys, and he took a clumsy step backward.

Sarah looked at the contraption, frightened. There was a glass container hanging from a metal hook, with a long line snaking down to the boy's arm, which was strangely discoloured. "Wait." A wave of nausea cramped Sarah's stomach as she stared at the container, which was half-full. "That's...basilisk's blood." With growing horror she remembered that she had not stayed behind to seal the entrance to the Chamber of Secrets, and that it would have been simple to steal down into the basilisk's lair to collect its blood.

"Yes," said Parkinson. "You have to help him!"

"Answer me quickly," demanded Sarah. "Was it entirely full when he began?"

"Almost f-full," she said, tearing up.

Sarah leaned down and pulled the blanket off Nott. Tearing open his robe, she winced as she looked upon the teenager's body. His skin was disfigured by numerous bleached-white patches. His eyes were open; his left was already partially opaque.

"You," said Sarah, pointing randomly at one of the boys. "Get Madam Pomfrey! Tell her we'll need a Blood-Replenishing Potion and anything she has that can heal burnt skin, or wounds from acid."

"Er," he said, looking at Parkinson.

"Now!" shouted Sarah. "I will do all I can, but I am not a Healer." She pointed to another. "You! Go get your Head of House."

"But--"

"Go!" said Parkinson. They both hurried away.

"Do you know how to...disconnect this?" said Sarah, touching the long, thin tube.

She wrinkled her nose. "Of course not!"

Sarah knelt next to him. "Very well, then." She ripped the end out of his arm. Blood spurted, predictably, and Parkinson turned a shade paler. Sarah covered the cut with her hand and closed the wound.

"You...couldn't use it backwards, then? To pull out the blood?"

Sarah fixed her with a harsh glare. "Perhaps if I wanted to pull out all of his blood. But I don't think he'd appreciate that, either." She turned back to Nott. "I am not powerful enough to drain only the basilisk's blood out of his body from a single point...it will have to come out of his skin."

She nodded, looking very frightened.

Sarah took a long, controlled breath. "Basilisk's blood is caustic," she said in the calmest tone she could affect. "It's very strong. I must tell you that there is nothing to be gained by mixing it with your own blood. Nothing positive." She grimaced. "You need to help me with this. Do you have your wand?"

"Yes." She shakily produced it from her pocket.

"I will attempt to pull the blood from him, but it is up to you to lift it away from his skin," she said. "Do you understand me?"

"Yes, but how?" cried the girl.

"You haven't levitated liquids yet?" She swore under her breath. "Do you know any cleansing spells?"

She nodded jerkily.

"Very well, then. As the blood surfaces, you'll have to clear it away. But, mind this, you must stay out of my way. Do not get between my hands and his body. Do you understand?"

She nodded again, white as a sheet.

"I'm going to begin," she announced. "Don't touch me. Don't disturb me in any way. If Madam Pomfrey arrives before I am done, tell her not to touch me or disturb me. I must try to draw all of the blood out at once, before it does any more damage."

"Did you hear that, Crabbe? Goyle?" demanded the girl. They both nodded solemnly. She turned back to Sarah. "I'm ready." Her wand hand still shook.

"Even more importantly: do not touch him under any circumstances. No matter what happens, you must not touch him."

"I understand." Tears spilled out of her eyes.

Sarah gestured with her wand, and the rest of Nott's clothing sliced open and fell off, baring his awkward, gangly teenage body to her scrutiny. The patches of white were growing, emitting a strange, faint light, and she knew that she had little time. It was a fool's errand, this, for a boy who had bullied her and threatened to kill Severus, and she was amazed that she was even going to try. She stuck her wand in her pocket and held her hands palm-down several inches above his chest.

"Do you think he'll be all right?" asked Crabbe uncertainly.

"Shut it!" said Parkinson, her eyes watching Sarah's every twitch.

Sarah concentrated on the boy beneath her hands, feeling the harsh blood twisting within him, burning everything it touched. What she was about to do was difficult for even a powerful Sanguimagus, and would be near-impossible for her...but there was no one else who could draw blood from a body. She had no choice. Her fingers tingled as she tentatively began to search out and separate the basilisk from the boy.

A few minutes passed, and she could hear sobs in the background. They began to recede, until she heard nothing at all, her entire body locked in service to her hands.

She pulled.

Gently, at first, to see how deeply the blood had ingrained itself, but then with more force. Nott choked, his chest rising off the floor, and she hoped no one would be foolish enough to attempt to touch him. She cursed, not caring who heard her; she could feel how powerfully it had taken hold. She pulled again, and Nott made pathetic gaping motions with his mouth that might have been ragged cries, had she not cast the Silencing Charm on him earlier.

For a moment her attention wavered, and she could hear the sounds of a struggle behind her, but it passed quickly, and again she threw herself into the task. Her hands vibrated as they pulled even harder.

The boy shook like a leaf, his arms and legs flinching violently. She pulled, gritting her teeth.

Blossoms of reddish-brown blood began to appear on his bare skin, faintly at first, but soon they were oozing, hissing on his flesh. For a long moment they pooled, and then there was a tingle of magic as, one at a time, they were scrubbed from his body.

It seemed to make little difference at first. For every bloody spot Parkinson cleaned, two more sprang up in its wake.

Sarah pulled again and again. Skin could be healed; his arteries and veins, however, were another story. More blood pooled on the boy, but Parkinson seemed to have cleared her head, and was gaining ground.

Already Sarah could feel herself wearying, and she was only half-done, at best. She pulled again, willing the blood to rise, forcing it to divide from his blood, making her call so irresistible that the basilisk's essence would dissipate and push its way through the muscle, through the sinew, to his skin.

It was not enough.

Fewer and fewer spots of blood appeared on his torso; her whole body was rigid, pulling with as much force as she could muster, but not enough had been removed.

She cursed again. She could not pull it all out in this manner. If she did not remove all of the blood, the boy would die, and very soon. Unless she did something else. Something radical. Something horribly idiotic.

The Dark Mark was very clear on his arm, now that some of the white patches had diminished, and its ugly, brutish skull grinned maddeningly at her, taunting her.

But his face was still a boy's face, still a teenager, and she could not help but feel pity for him.

She lowered her hands until they were just above his chest. She could feel the heat, the heat of a living human being, and she closed her eyes and placed both hands directly on his torso.

She pulled. It was his last chance.

The last of the basilisk's blood fought with her, not wanting to leave the blood it had found. It had no choice, however; her hands, directly on his chest, pulled the tainted essence from every extremity, violently yanking it out of his body, which shook and spasmed. She hissed in agony as the blood scalded her fingers and palms, but she could not let it stop, there was still more, and then more, and she felt all the more fool; if he was meant to die, what was the use of any of it?

His arms and legs contorted and flailed like a doll's, and blood was leaking from the corner of his mouth; he had bitten his tongue somehow. She concentrated, ruthlessly calling the blood with a force she knew to be just short of fatal. His eyes rolled up into their sockets as he arched beneath her hands, blood spurting between her fingers. It hurt, her hands were aflame, but she was certain that it was nothing compared to the agony he was feeling.

One last pull, and his body suddenly collapsed, his eyelids fluttering shut. He looked almost like a corpse, pale and bloody, and she lifted her hands quickly. Parkinson immediately cleaned the blood, but it had already scalded his chest, leaving a huge patch of angry, blistered flesh.

Sarah leaned back, suddenly aware of the room again. Madam Pomfrey stared at her, fear and shock apparent in her face. "Madam," said Sarah, and then coughed. "He'll need a Blood-Replenishing Potion, and salve...and..."

"I am aware of what he needs," she replied, though not gruffly. "I will attend to him. Severus? If you would Summon a stretcher, we will take this boy to the infirmary."

Sarah blinked, rising to her feet, and stepped back, out of the way of the stretcher. Severus only looked at her once, his face a mask of control, before turning to Poppy to assist her with the boy.

There was nothing left for her to do. She stumbled out into the corridor. There were only a few older students in the hall, but when she finally figured out her way back into the common room, she could see that most were still awake, craning their necks to see what was going on. She blinked, feeling exhausted and disoriented, and realized that her hands were covered with basilisk's blood. She could have had Parkinson or one of the other Slytherin students to remove it...then again, if something went wrong, they could injure her hands permanently. Severus and Poppy were much too preoccupied, as well. She hid her bloody hands in her robes as best as she could, and left, leaving excited whisperings and murmurings in her wake.

The dungeons were not easy to navigate. Her head was filled with an ominous buzzing, and the corridor kept tilting to the right. Worse, her hands felt as if they were on fire, but she dared not touch her wand while they were still covered in basilisk's blood, as it could damage the wood.

Nearing the stairs, she stopped and looked at them, at a loss as to how to climb them. They seemed impossibly steep and kept sliding to the right.

"Professor Tanner," said a determined voice.

Sarah looked to her left, and the action almost caused her to fall over, but then Parkinson's hand grabbed her arm.

"I'll help," said the girl, guiding her up the steps slowly.

"Thank you," said Sarah, blinking heavily. The buzzing had grown louder, and she knew she could not have made it to her room without the girl's help. Her office door loomed in front of her, blurring and reforming, and she managed to open it, staggering to her couch.

"Do you need something?" asked Parkinson. "Something for your hands?"

"I can manage," said Sarah warily.

She nodded, and came closer, staring down at her. "I owe you," she said simply. "My father says a Parkinson never forgets a debt." She stared for a moment longer, and then left, the door shutting itself behind her.

Sarah stumbled to the sink, and washed off the blood as best as she was able. Back at her desk, she fumbled with the drawer, pulling out her bottle of Auntie Dodd's Burn Relief that she'd salvaged from the trash.

Getting the cork out was nearly impossible. With her hands so scorched and blistered, she had to wiggle it free with her teeth. Turning the bottle on its side by holding it between her wrists, she laid it on the desk, and caught the thin trickle of potion as it poured out.

It felt marvellously soothing. She flexed her fingers slightly, allowing the potion to work itself in between them.

Back to the couch, she felt the tide of exhaustion finally swamp her, and she fell into darkness.

***

Severus thought he heard a timid knocking at his door. Rolling over, he groaned and tried to fall back to sleep.

Again he heard the knocking, only harder this time.

Cursing, he got up and threw on a robe. Doubtless a student was in trouble. He scowled as he ran a hand through his hair; it was only just past two in the morning. They'd be in more trouble before the night was through, for certain.

He yanked the door open. Forrester, a seventh year, stood there, looking frightened. "Sir, Professor Tanner sent me..."

Alarmed, Severus closed the door behind him. His first thought was that it was a trap, but the boy did not seem to be lying to him. "Where is she?" he demanded, leaning forward and searching the student's eyes.

"In the dorms, sir," said Forrester, swallowing nervously. "Pansy fetched her, because Theodore was ill..."

None of this made any sense at all, but he could tell that Forrester was telling the truth. Severus stalked off toward the common room. "Nobility," he said clearly, and entered.

He smoothed his face into an expression of authority, but inwardly he winced. Every Slytherin was awake and staring at him. "Where is Nott?" he demanded.

"This way, sir," said Urquhart, pointing to the corridor that led to the dorms, which was full of students as well.

"Out of the hallway!" said Severus loudly. "Either go to your rooms, or go back to the common room."

The students began to file out, and Severus followed Urquhart through the twisting passage, stopping at a room.

Severus stepped through and froze, his heart lurching in his chest. Nott lay prone on the floor, naked except for his pants, face up. His body was riddled with ghastly white patches, and he convulsed, his mouth agape. Sarah knelt before him, her teeth bared in a horrible grimace, her hands resting on his chest in a pool of blood.

Crabbe and Goyle stood next to Parkinson, along with one of the room's residents, Fitzgerald, who was sporting a fresh black eye. "What happened here?" said Severus imperiously, fixing his gaze upon Parkinson, who held her wand with a shaking hand, her eyes never leaving Sarah's hands.

Fitzgerald answered. "He tried to do blood magic, sir. He took the blood of a basilisk, and put it in his veins, and then he looked funny, but he told me not to pull it out, but then he started to turn white..."

Basilisk's blood. He could guess where Nott had found it. "Has someone called for Madam Pomfrey?"

"Vaisey went to get her," said Fitzgerald.

Sarah's expression changed to one of acute agony, and Severus felt his heart squeeze in misery. Whatever she was doing, it looked terribly difficult, and he reached out instinctively, thinking to pull her from him.

"No!" screeched Parkinson. "Don't touch her! She told me not to let anyone touch her!"

"What's going on?" demanded Poppy, bursting in to the room, flushed and looking rather disheveled. She looked down at Nott. "What...Severus, what has happened here?"

"I have only just now arrived myself, but from what I can tell, I believe Mr. Nott has attempted to poison himself with basilisk's blood," said Severus.

Poppy studied the silently screaming figure expertly. "She is drawing out the blood, then? She said to bring a Blood-Replenishing Potion...it makes sense, now." There was a tray floating next to her, and she began to pour different solutions into a goblet. "We will need to take him to the infirmary as soon as she has finished."

If she had noticed the Dark Mark on the boy's arm, she made no mention of it. Severus nodded. "Yes. I'm quite certain that he'll be indisposed for some time. I will notify his father." He maintained an attitude of calm, but inwardly he was afraid that the boy was going to die, so great was the agony on his face.

Nott's entire body arched, and Sarah made a strangled noise. Severus tensed, feeling fear spiraling through him, and he had to resist the urge to pull her from him bodily.

Suddenly the boy fell limply to the ground, only the whites of his eyes showing. He lay as still as if he were dead.

Sarah lifted her hands away from him, and Parkinson immediately stepped up, cleansing the blood from her boyfriend's body, leaving behind a horribly burned patch of skin.

"We haven't much time," murmured Poppy, "if we expect to save him." More loudly she said, "Severus, if you could lean the boy forward..."

"Madam," said Sarah, coughing and looking awfully pale. "He'll need a Blood-Replenishing Potion, and salve...and..."

"I am aware of what he needs," said Poppy. "I will attend to him. Severus? If you would Summon a stretcher, we will take this boy to the infirmary."

He knelt down next to him as Sarah stood up unsteadily. Severus levitated the boy's torso, and Poppy pressed a goblet to his lips, pointing her wand at the boy's throat and uttering a charm that would force him to swallow it, a sip at a time.

"Severus," came a familiar voice from behind him. A hand touched his shoulder.

"Headmaster," he replied. "The boy was...experimenting, it seems. He'd mixed his blood with basilisk's blood..." He looked up, noticing that Sarah had already left.

The Headmaster looked down upon the boy, letting his hands drop to his side. His keen blue eyes lingered on the Dark Mark on Nott's arm, and his expression became one of deep sorrow. "He will need something to protect him from the draughty air," he murmured, and Conjured a blanket, covering Nott's body with it gently.

"I will require your further assistance," said Poppy, looking directly at Severus. He could sense her fear.

"Of course," he said. He turned to the students in the room. "To your beds, now. We will be taking him to the hospital wing." While Poppy fussed over the stretcher and the Headmaster carefully placed Nott's body upon it, Severus walked swiftly to the common room, closing the door behind him on the way. Gaining their attention in an instant, he swept into their middle, ordering them to return to their beds, and telling them that Nott would recover soon enough. They streamed past him, some looking frightened or confused, and more than a few looking mutinous.

Once that had been sorted out, he opened the door again, and he and Poppy followed the stretcher out of the twisting passageway. Several students tried to peek at them from behind their doors, but one angry glance from Severus and doors shut quickly.

Back in the castle, they moved slowly toward the infirmary. The Headmaster stopped him before diverging back toward his office, telling him to contact Nott's father as soon as possible.

The hospital wing was deserted, and Poppy pulled the sheets back hurriedly as the stretcher approached a bed. Severus helped her levitate him as gently as possible and place him upon the white mattress. He was terribly pale, and a trickle of dark blood ran down his cheek to his neck.

"Will he live through the night?" asked Severus, now that there were no students nearby to eavesdrop.

"I don't know," she said truthfully, her brow furrowed in concentration. "I will need your help, though, after you've contacted his father."

He nodded, and strode off toward her Floo.