The Name in Red **COMPLETE**

Hey everyone! So sorry to have kept you waiting so long for updates lately. I dearly hope that some of my dedicated fans are still out there, waiting for updates. I won’t make you wait any longer. Here is chapter 29. I hope you find it exciting!


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The Name in Red.

Chapter 29: The Soul.
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A voice was laughing hysterically.

“Excellent, excellent!” he shouted, pacing back and forth in a frenzied sort of way as he digested the news that had just been delivered to him. He turned in his pacing, addressing the other occupant of the room. “You know what to do now,” he said, unable to mask his burgeoning excitement, “We’ll run the headlines tomorrow morning. Everything is finally coming together.”

“Now what, though? She got away again,” a course, gravelly voice growled. “She’s probably already back at Hogwarts. We can’t touch her there.”

“We won’t need to,” the pacing man said, and his voice instantly took on a lower, more sinister tone. “She will come.”


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It was a good half an hour later when Snape finally arrived at the hospital wing. Just as he expected, he found Potter, both Weasley children, and the Granger girl awaiting him there. They were all gathered around the ends of two beds. The Weasley girl was lying in one, looking thoroughly impatient, and the girl was lying unconscious in the other, apparently having been restrained at some point; thick leather straps were keeping her pressed tightly to the bed.

When Snape had opened the doors to the hospital wing, all eyes were upon him, including those of Madam Pomfrey. The witch immediately stormed her way over to him, and fixed him with an intense, angry stare.

“Just what have you been doing to these poor children, Severus?” Madam Pomfrey demanded. “They refuse to tell me anything, yet Miss Weasley was severely wounded by an unknown curse, and I have never before seen injuries that compare to Miss Garrend’s!”

“We’re not children!” Ginny spat, clearly irritated. Harry immediately turned to quiet her. The last thing they needed was to offend Madam Pomfrey any more than they had already done by refusing to tell her what had happened to them.

Snape did not meet Madam Pomfrey’s angry stare. Instead, when she had mentioned the girl’s injuries, his eyes immediately turned to the girl’s bed. She couldn’t be injured, he asserted to himself. She was only subjected to a few stunning spells, at worst.

When Madam Pomfrey gave an angry hiss, Snape immediately turned his attention back to her, his expression severe.

“I am sorry, Poppy,” Snape began, “But the events that have transpired here, to all of us, are of an extremely sensitive nature. It is within all of our best interests for you to retire to your quarters and allow us to discuss these events outside of your hearing.”

Madam Pomfrey looked mutinous. A storm was clearly raging inside her as she stared up at the tall, black-eyed man. He stared back unflinchingly.

After a moment, Madam Pomfrey gave a derisive snort.

“You will summon me the moment you are finished,” she said. She then spun on her heel, and stomped toward the door leading to her office and her private quarters. It was promptly slammed shut.

Within mere fractions of a second, two wands were drawn and pointed toward the door.

“Muffliato,” Snape and Harry uttered simultaneously, securing the hospital wing for private conversation.

With a smirk toward the boy, Snape tucked his wand into the inner pocket of his robes and approached the beds around which they were huddled. His eyes fell upon the girl, his expression grave.

“What did she do?” he asked aloud, not addressing anyone in particular.

Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron all glanced at each other before Harry finally spoke up.

“She started lashing out,” Harry said, looking to the thick leather straps which were restraining Sarah’s form. “I don’t think she was even conscious. She just started moving and trying to hurt anyone who was near her. We had to strap her down to keep her from hitting us.”

Snape gave a slow nod, and then turned to the bed in which the Weasley girl lay.

“Your wounds,” he said, “Are they well?”

Ginny sat up straighter in her bed and gave a slight shrug. She was obviously quite ready to be rid of her internment in the hospital wing.

“They’re fine,” she said dismissively, “Madam Pomfrey didn’t know the curse that made them, but she was able to stop them bleeding and patch them up a bit.”

When Ginny had moved, both Harry and Ron leaned closer to her in a clear attempt to coax her back into a more relaxed position.

“Madam Pomfrey said you shouldn’t move too much,” Ron cautioned her, ignoring Ginny’s clear attempt to appear better than she actually was. “She said you could tear them open again if you’re not careful.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. Snape remained expressionless and turned back to the girl. She looked so still and peaceful.

“What injuries was Poppy talking about?” Snape asked. The girl looked just fine to his eyes.

Once again, they all glanced at each other nervously. Harry motioned toward Sarah's right arm.

Snape straightened up and drew in closer to get a better look, and he could not stop the small intake of breath upon seeing it; through the leather straps binding her, he saw two deep streaks of crimson red clearly etched up the girl’s forearm, the same hue as the mysterious mark which adorned her wrist. His eyes immediately darted to her left arm. The same streaks of red were clearly visible there, too, almost as if someone had cleanly and precisely cut her with a razor sharp knife.

Just as Dumbledore had said, her body had sustained even further damage. The corruption of magic within her was clearly spreading.

Harry was watching Snape closely. His reaction to seeing the newly appeared marks on Sarah’s arms made it clear that he knew more than he was letting on. Harry fixed his features with the most intense grimace that he could muster, and rose out of his chair, facing Snape.

“What’s going on here?” Harry demanded. At his example, Ron stood from his chair as well. While their backs were turned, Ginny straightened herself up against her pillows. “What did Dumbledore tell you?”

Snape took a deep breath, his eyes locked in Harry’s steely green gaze. Despite the danger that he had accompanied, and arguably put, the girl into, he had no doubt saved the girl’s life, and he felt a strange sense of indebtedness to the boy for at least that much. Snape also could not discount the boy’s sincere concern for the girl. He knew he had no choice but to tell him what the old man had said about the girl’s strange, unique condition.

Breaking his gaze with Harry, Snape glanced to the others; the Weasley boy was still standing there, wearing a determined-looking grimace. Granger was looking rather wan while sitting in her chair, and the Weasley girl was wearing an expression identical to her brother’s. With a resigned, inward sigh, Snape knew that he had no choice but to tell them as well.

For about the next half an hour, Snape proceeded to recount the entire conversation that had taken place between he and Dumbledore, from the Ministry’s past involvement in Sarah’s life, all the way up to her current condition which seemed to be inflicting so much damage upon her. Over the course of his tale, the boy’s fierce expression had quickly faded, and he had grown quite pale and fallen back into his chair. The Weasley boy had followed suit, sitting hunched over in his chair with his hands on either side of his head; his sister was now slumped against her pillow, looking quite ill, and the Granger girl was staring determinedly in his direction with an abundance of tears welling up in her eyes.

“But--,” the boy began to stammer, looking to Sarah’s beside table where her wand lay, “What about--,”

“There’s something you don’t understand about magic,” Snape snorted softly as he cut the boy off. “It takes more than just a wave of your wand to mend a pair of broken eyeglasses. Magic doesn’t just happen out of thin air. When she loses control, tremendous amounts of magical energy are redirected through her body instead of her wand.”

“You have seen this before,” Snape continued, “Didn’t you ever wonder what made the Dark Lord look the way he did? As his soul became more and more diminished through the creation of his Horcruxes, his powerful magic began to twist and warp his body, just as is happening to her, now. It began slowly at first, but became more and more pronounced over time.”

The silence that followed resonated in all of them. Snape’s eyes turned once again to the girl’s lifeless form, and to her arms which bore the latest manifestation of her strange affliction. Perhaps it was just because they were new, but the red markings which striped her arms appeared even brighter to him than the first time he had seen the mark on her wrist.

The Weasley girl, steadying herself with a deep breath and regaining some of her color in the process, was the first to speak up.

“What are we to do?” She asked, trying to look Snape in the eye. “What can we do to help her?”

Snape reluctantly tore his eyes away from Sarah to look at Ginny.

“It is unclear whether or not the damages already inflicted upon her can ever be undone,” he said slowly, the calmness of his tone masking the great deal of inner turmoil which was churning within him, “Other than that, for now, we need to make sure that she is never without her wand, and that she is kept well out of harm’s way.” When he finished speaking, his deep, black eyes had come to rest firmly on the boy. If anyone were going to push her into further danger, it would be him.

When Harry felt Snape’s eyes upon him, he instinctively straightened up and met his gaze. Instead of looking defiant, however, his expression was pained, and he gave a solemn nod.

“That’s it,” Harry said, and his voice sounded hollow, “We’re done. We’re not going after it anymore. It’s caused too much pain,” he said, and his eyes turned to his girlfriend, still recovering from the injury which had been inflicted upon her by Sarah. Her expression was inscrutable. He then looked to the faces around him for reassurance. Ron’s face was still hidden between his hands as he stared at the floor, but Hermione looked as if she were on the verge of speech. “We’re done,” Harry reiterated, cutting off any possible retort that Hermione might have.

He knew what she was thinking. A great amount of evil had been done to the girl lying in the bed next to them. While Harry agreed that this was true, he could no longer consent to finding justice for her when it meant putting more than her very life at risk.

“We’re done,” he whispered again with a sigh, looking to Sarah. She hadn’t made a peep or so much as moved a finger after lashing out at all of them. He could only hope that she would recover quickly. He hoped even more deeply that when she finally awoke, behind those red eyes, she would still be the same girl that all of them remembered.

Harry nearly failed to hide the slight gasp that next escaped him. His bright green eyes opened wide as vivid memories replayed themselves inside his mind. He was brought back to the refuge that they had sought in Snape’s home, immediately following the Gringotts fiasco…

Sarah had snapped at him, unexpectedly… He looked into her eyes once again… It was as if the danger and wildness that she had displayed only moments before was now lurking quietly beneath the surface, gazing out at him…

Suddenly, Snape’s words held a far greater meaning for him. Harry had seen the effects of Sarah’s losses of control firsthand, and as far as he was concerned, he had seen an ominous inkling of what was to come if they continued. Her mind may very well be balanced on a razor’s edge.

“Harry?” Ginny’s clear voice pierced through the haze, drawing him back to reality. “What is it?”

Harry looked at her earnestly, but could not bring himself to tell all of them just how deeply he was already concerned about Sarah’s condition. He remained silent.

“What are we going to tell her?” Ron spoke up finally, trying to straighten up in his chair. He was so pale that his flaming red hair looked as if it were burning against his face.

At the same time, Ginny swung her legs over the edge of her bed and sat up straight. She glanced in the direction of Madam Pomfrey’s private quarters with a look of disdain. Then, with a small wince, she stood, clearly ready to be freed of the hospital wing. All the while, Snape had been eyeing her closely.

“We shall tell her nothing,” Snape spoke, narrowing his eyes slightly, “I shall remain by her side until she awakens and then speak with her. All of you, on the other hand, shall return to your quarters immediately.”

Snape’s features held such a look of severity that none of them bothered to argue after he had voiced his desire for all of them to leave. They could not deny that what he had to tell the girl was indeed of a delicate nature, and that it was probably best for him, and him alone, to explain it to her.

After a few moments of gazing hopefully at Sarah’s limp form in the desperate hope that she might awaken at that very moment, Harry, Ron, and Hermione all rose from their seats. Wrapping a gentle arm around his girlfriend’s shoulders, Harry began leading Ginny toward the doors. Ron extended a hand toward Hermione who clasped it tightly. To Snape’s surprise, none of them uttered a word as they slunk through the doors and out of sight.

When they were gone, Snape’s eyes turned again to the girl lying in the bed, restrained tightly by thick leather straps. With a flick of his wand, the bonds were cut. She hadn’t so much as twitched since he had entered the hospital wing; he didn’t see the harm in it.

Then, with a heavy sigh, he dragged the chair in which the boy had been seated closer to the girl’s bedside. Tucking his wand back inside his robes, he sat down, watching the girl as she slept. He had no idea how long it would before she finally awoke, but he knew that no matter how long it took, he would be by her side when she finally did.


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It was a few hours later when Sarah finally drifted back into consciousness. The very second she was once again aware of herself, she let out a long, low groan; her entire body was racked with pain, particularly her head and her arms. Purely on reflex, she slapped a hand to her forehead as she winced.

She had no idea where she was. From what little she could feel, and what little she could see through her eyelids, she was at least lying on something soft, and it was dark. The last thing she could remember was being in the Headmistress’ office, and being overcome with anger. She could remember nothing else.

As soon as the girl had moved, Snape straightened up in his chair, and his eyes shot open widely. Over the past couple of hours while the girl had remained unconscious, he had slumped down and come dangerously close to sleep, kept awake only by his steadfast determination to make sure the girl was alright. The night had been exhausting; a fierce battle capped off by an emotionally draining conversation with Dumbledore. It was a testament to his dedication to the girl that he was still awake.

In the silence following the girl’s groan, he was filled with a sense of dread and trepidation, and he hesitated to speak.

He was possessed with the same fear that Harry had experienced earlier. He had heard firsthand the type of damage that repeated losses of control could inflict upon the girl. Would she be the same, even now? Or would she bear some unmistakable, irreversible effect upon her normal personality? So far, she did not appear to be lashing out at all. That, at least, was promising.

He cleared his throat softly, and then spoke.

“Sarah?” he said gently, trying to hide the slight trembling in his voice, “Can you hear me?”

The girl groaned again, and her head fell limply to the side in his direction. It was with great effort that she managed to wrench her eyelids apart. It felt as if her head were going to split open.

“Severus?” she breathed, “Where am I?” she asked meekly. Once again, her vision was profoundly blurred. She could only see a tall, dark shadow seated in the chair next to her.

“You are safe,” Snape replied, “In the hospital wing at Hogwarts.” He said no more, curious to hear the girl speak again. He was eager to see if he would hear the words which he most dreaded; if she was confused as to how she had come to be here, and if she had remembered nothing of the events that had transpired within the Ministry.

“What?” Sarah breathed again, her face twisting into an expression of deepest confusion. Snape’s heart sank into the pit of his stomach. “What are you talking about?”

Snape swallowed hard, and remained silent as he tried to choose his words carefully. Before he could speak again, however, the girl continued talking.

“I was in Professor McGonagall’s office,” the girl asserted, “And then, well,” she paused awkwardly, “You were there, you saw,” she said, indicating the revelation that her name had been present upon one of Hogwart’s registry scrolls since her birth. “The Ministry...,” she mumbled, “I… I got so angry, I felt…,”

Sarah paused, trying to collect her thoughts as best she could; unfortunately, her recollections from that point on were nonexistent.

“Did I pass out?” she asked, her tone making clear that she hoped that this had been the case, “Did I fall and hit my head on her desk? What happened?”

Snape took a deep breath.

“No,” he spoke simply. He was not relishing the experience of having to describe what had happened and what she had done.

Sarah’s hands clenched shut, clutching pure, white sheets together in her fingers. She barely restrained herself from letting out a pained whimper. She was not ready to hear the answer to the question she was about to ask, but she had to know.

“What did I do?” the girl asked. To Snape, it already sounded as if the girl knew she had done something terrible.

He had to tell her. He had to tell her everything. Everything.

“You lost control,” he said, straightening up again, and closing his eyes. In his mind, he could see the girl once again crashing through the tall, mullioned window, possessed by rage.

He swallowed hard again, pressing onward.

“You ran out,” he said, “Right out of Hogwarts, straight off of the grounds. We chased after you, the Weasley girl, Potter, and I. You went to the Ministry. You had forced entry, neutralized the watchmen, and proceeded to—to tear up the place.”

Sarah was now biting her lower lip so hard that she had almost drawn blood. She was trying her very hardest to remember any of what Snape was telling her, but it was all a complete blank. Tears were beginning to well up in the corners of her eyes.

“When we found you,” Snape continued, his voice slightly choppy, as if he were hesitating on each word spoken, “You—you attacked us. We barely managed to subdue you, but not before you injured the--,” he hesitated again. It was so difficult for him to break out of his old habits, “You hurt Ginny.”

“No,” Sarah gave a yowl. She sounded like a wounded animal. “Is—is she…,”

“She appears to be fine,” Snape said, inclining his head softly. “After you were subdued, we brought you back here.”

Sarah shook her head back and forth slowly several times. She could remember nothing about anything that Snape had described. She had blasted her way inside the Ministry, attacked Ministry security personnel, caused significant collateral damage to the facility, and worst of all, injured her friend. She turned her head again, and now she was staring straight up at the high ceiling, or what little she could see of it through her blurred vision. Tears were now streaming liberally down her cheeks.

“What’s wrong with me?” she whimpered. Though she had never been a religious individual, it was a question more directed toward the Gods, whatever they may be, than any she had ever asked in her life before.

Unfortunately, the tall, dark man sitting next to her knew exactly what was wrong. After placing a reassuring hand on her shoulder, he proceeded to recount the entire discussion that had taken place between he and Dumbledore. Throughout, the girl lay quite still, and what little color she had drained from her face. She looked as if she were about to be sick. Her glassy stare remained glued to the ceiling above her.

When Snape had finished speaking, her throat twitched as she swallowed. Her expression did not change, and she did not look at him again.

“I see,” she said quietly, and when the sound of her voice reached her ears, it did not sound as if it were her own. She raised one of her forearms into her blurred field of vision, and could just barely see the bright, red stripes which now adorned it.

Snape leaned closer to her. He was already feeling an enormous swell of guilt for having to be the one to tell her what exactly was wrong. Her reaction to the news was less than encouraging.

“We can prevent anything else from happening,” Snape spoke, his voice full of conviction, “If you are never without your wand, and if you stay out of danger, you will be fine. I can help you. I can teach you to control it. I promise,” he finished, and his last two words were among those that he spoke with such rarity, he thought that the girl must surely be heartened or moved by them.

Instead, she simply lay there, still as ever, staring up at the ceiling.

Not only moments, but several minutes, of silence passed next.

“You should go,” the girl finally spoke.

Snape straightened up again, slightly affronted by her words.

“You must be exhausted,” she said. “You should get some sleep.” She did not even look at him.

Snape’s hands tightened into fists. His usual instinct was urging him to lash out in return, but he stayed himself. He knew that the information the girl had just received was not exactly easy to hear. He should have been expecting her to have a less-than-positive reaction to it. He nodded once, slowly, and placed a hand on her arm. He was glad, at least, that she did not shirk away from it.

“Very well,” Snape said softly, rising from his chair. “I will check in tomorrow,” he said. As he turned to leave, he resisted the urge to reach out and touch her again. As he exited the hospital wing, he flicked his wand toward the wall sconces, and they extinguished themselves.

When Snape had gone, the hospital wing was dark and silent. Sarah continued to stare up at the blurry shadow of a ceiling she could barely see. It felt as if there were a huge hand within her chest, crushing the life out of her. She raced through what Snape had told her again and again in her mind. My magic is killing me, and it’s the Ministry’s fault. She kept repeating it inside her like a mantra. Perhaps if she forced herself to think about it enough, it would dull the harsh sting of the truth.

After a while, she began to replay all of the events of the past few months over in her head, as well. She had certainly lived more in the past few months she had spent in this wonderful world than in her entire life thus far. The hand inside her chest squeezed shut painfully as a new thought made its way to the forefront of her mind; Maybe it would have been best if I’d never ended up here at all…

This thought settled in on her like a dirty, stagnant pool of water. Her eyes began to widen, however, as she pondered it. How had she come to be here in the first place? She shut her eyes tightly as she tried to recall. She remembered the stormy forest, and the Centaurs that had tried to kill her. Everything before, that, however, was a fuzzy blank. Hadn’t she been camping with friends? That was what she had told Professor McGonagall when she first arrived at the castle...

Friends? she thought to herself.

She could not remember their names, or their faces. She could not even remember how she had come to be in this part of the world, or why.

She spent the next several minutes trying her best to jar her memory, but nothing came through. The hand inside her chest closed again; Maybe I can’t remember because of what my magic is doing to me, she thought grimly. Maybe it’s too late. Maybe it’s already affecting my mind. She fought hard to blink back tears as she wondered what she might not be able to remember next. Would she forget her wonderful new friends, and the loyalty and devotion they had shown to her? Or would she forget Snape’s love?

Would she lose control again, and become a danger to everyone and herself?

No, she thought to herself, No I won’t. Painfully, she sat up in her bed. Tears were now streaming liberally down her cheeks. She had made up her mind. She knew what she had to do. She would not risk hurting anyone else. She already hurt Ginny, and she had gotten lucky; what if whatever spell she had used killed Ginny instead? Sarah shuddered and her blood ran cold at the thought. No, I’m not going to hurt anyone else. I have to do this.

She swung her legs over the edge of the bed. With her blurred vision, she reached for the end table next to her. Opening one of its drawers, she began groping around inside, searching for the simple tools that she required.


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Hermione’s copy of The Daily Prophet had arrived unusually early that morning. It wasn’t even breakfast time yet. In fact, the post owl had practically beaten down her dormitory window in order to gain entry, bearing the day’s news. Mostly everyone was still asleep. When Hermione’s eyes fell on the headlines, however, she let out a loud shriek. She had nearly roused the entire House. Still dressed in her pajamas, she streaked out into the common room. Ginny, who had nearly fallen out of bed, chased after her.

“What the bloody hell is going on?” Ron demanded. He and Harry, also still in their bedclothes, came clambering into the common room.

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Ginny said, “She just woke up half the castle.”

“Look!” Hermione yelled, thrusting her copy of The Daily Prophet under Harry’s eyes.

Harry straightened his glasses. As he read the headline, his jaw was agape.

MINISTRY ASSAULTED BY DANGEROUS, UNKNOWN MUGGLE-BORN WITCH. SECURITY PERSONELLE INJURED, DAMAGE DEVASTATING. MAGICAL COMMUNITY PANICS, CALLS FOR CHANGE.

“What?” Harry spat, “How the hell could they have known that?” Harry’s grip on the newspaper loosened. Ron snatched it from him. He swore softly, and then passed it to Ginny. He was speaking more to the fact that somebody somehow knew that Sarah was an unknown, Muggleborn witch. The fact that the Ministry had been assaulted, he knew, was pretty plain.

“Isn’t it obvious?” Hermione asked, glancing around at all of them. As usual, something which Hermione perceived as being obvious was usually less than so to the rest of them. “Someone knows exactly what is going on here! Someone knows everything! How do you think they knew where Sarah’s family lived, and expected her to show up there? Someone knows! You’ve been playing right into their hands the entire time! They wanted this to happen!” Hermione rattled off. When she finished, she was gasping for breath.

Harry glanced around; more and more bleary-eyed, sleepy-looking students were filing into the common room to see what all of the commotion was about.

“Let’s go and see her,” Harry said, his voice dropping to a near whisper, “We’ll be able to talk in private in the hospital wing.”

Nodding in agreement, everyone returned to their respective dormitories to get dressed. In less than three minute’s time, they all met in the common room again. Stepping through the portrait hole, they made their way through the corridors to the hospital wing.

When they arrived, the hospital wing was empty, aside from Sarah’s bed. It appeared that sometime during the night she had wheeled over one of the portable curtains and drawn it shut. Her entire bed was surrounded by it, blocking her from sight. All of the other beds were empty, and Madam Pomfrey was nowhere to be seen. The four of them rushed over to the curtained bed. Hermione was still holding fast to her copy of The Daily Prophet, raising it up to her eyes as she riffled through it with incredible speed. It was a wonder she hadn’t bumped into anything on her way to the hospital wing.

“Sarah, are you awake?” Harry asked loudly as they approached the curtained bed. He reached out for the white linen drapes and seized them in his hands. “We need to show you someth--,” he fell silent when he tore the curtains back. Sarah’s bed was neatly made, and empty. On the pillow, there was a folded piece of parchment.

For a moment, Harry looked searchingly all around the hospital wing in the hopes that Sarah was hiding in a corner, or someplace he had simply just not looked yet, but she was gone. He glanced back at his friends. All of them were suitably alarmed.

Harry’s hand shot out for the note on the pillow, but not before he shouted, “Madam Pomfrey? Where has Sarah gone?”

Almost instantly, the witch’s head had appeared in her office doorway. Her face was ashen.

“What do you mean, Potter? She’s right--,” the witch’s eyes fell on the empty bed, and then scanned the rest of the empty hospital wing. She gasped audibly. It was a rare occurrence when one of her patients escaped her care from right under her nose. “Where is she?” the witch yelled.

Realizing that Madam Pomfrey would be of no assistance, Harry unfolded the note in his hands. His bright green eyes darted back and forth rapidly as he read the note in Sarah’s handwriting.

To whom it may concern,

I have left Hogwarts. After hearing what was wrong with me last night, I believe that this decision is for the best. If I stay, I will be endangering all of you. It is best that I leave, and never perform magic again as long as I live. For this reason, I have left my wand behind--

Harry glanced up from the note; Sarah’s wand was lying on the surface of the end table next to the bed, quite alone. He read on.

And I will not be coming back to retrieve it.

I am sorry for this. I love all of you. You have shown me more loyalty, friendship, and kindness that I have ever known in my entire life. I will miss all of you.

Ginny, I am sorry for hurting you. This way, I will never be able to hurt any of you, ever again.

Please tell Severus that I will always love him.

Love,
Sarah

“No!” Harry shouted. He continued to look all around the hospital wing in the vain hope that this was somehow all one big joke, and that Sarah would come out of her hiding place at any moment. Even so, he knew, deep down, that she had really gone.

Hermione immediately seized the parchment from Harry’s hand and read it. She shrieked, and soon it had been passed between all of them.

“No, no, no!” Hermione cried, shaking her head back and forth in disbelief, her frizzy mane of brown hair swaying. “This is exactly what they want her to do! They’re probably waiting for her outside right now!

“What are we going to do?” Ginny asked loudly. All of them were looking quite helpless.

“Calm down, let’s think!” Harry urged them, but Hermione was already ten steps ahead.

“She doesn’t have her wand,” Hermione said quickly, “She can’t have Disapparated. She had to have left the castle on foot. We are surrounded by miles and miles of densely forested wilderness. She can’t have gotten far.”

“How the bloody hell are we going to find her in the Forbidden Forest? It’s huge!” Ron declaimed, spreading his arms wide above his head to illustrate the gravity of the situation.

“There’s still snow on the ground,” Hermione said, her brain racing, “We might be able to tell from which direction she entered the forest.”

“If she hasn’t covered her tracks, that is,” Harry said grimly.

“There’s only one way to find out,” Ginny spoke up.

“Come on,” Harry agreed. They all began rushing toward the large double doors leading out of the hospital wing when a tall, dark figure appeared between them.

Snape’s eyes widened. He could immediately tell that something was wrong. Potter, the Weasley children, and the Granger girl were all rushing toward him.

“What is it? What’s happened?” he demanded, glaring at all of them in a rather accusatory sort of way.

“She’s gone!” Hermione shrieked.

“Gone?”

When they reached Snape, Harry thrust Sarah’s note into his hands. When he had finished reading it, he crumpled it in his fist and let it fall to the floor. Harry was expecting him to immediately dash for the castle’s exit. Instead, however, Snape pushed past all of them forcefully and made his way into the hospital wing. He reached the end table next to Sarah’s vacated bed and scooped up her wand, stowing it inside his robes.

On his way back to the doors, Snape spied the newspaper in the Granger girl’s hands.

“I assume all of you are quite aware of today’s headlines,” said Snape, his voice deep and intense. “We must find her.”

Without another word, all of them dashed out of the castle together. Outside, the early morning was crisp and bitterly cold. There were thick gray clouds overhead that the sun could not hope to penetrate. Mercifully, there was still a layer of snow upon the ground.

”She hasn’t covered her tracks!” Harry shouted excitedly, thrusting his arm forward and pointing in the direction where a fresh path of footprints trailed off into the distance toward the Forbidden Forest. They were unmistakably made by Sarah’s hiking boots. “Come on!”

Running as quickly as they could, all of them followed the trail.

“I wouldn’t expect that she had,” Snape said as he ran, breathing heavily. Puffs of foggy condensation were issuing from his mouth and nostrils, “She has no wand. It would have taken a tremendous physical effort to cover all of these tracks, and she is probably still in pain.”

They followed Sarah’s trail as long as they could. Just as Hermione predicted, they could tell from which direction she had entered the Forbidden Forest, but once they reached the shelter of the forest’s thick canopy, the snow disappeared from the ground, and Sarah’s footprints with it. Even at the edge of the forest, its comparative darkness to the wide, open lawns of the school was remarkable. All of them drew their wands and ignited them. They scanned the ground hopefully for some sign of Sarah’s passing. There were a few markings upon the ground which might be discernable as Sarah’s boot prints, but it was difficult to tell.

“Now what?” Ron asked, shining his wandlight into the shadowy trees before him. He still did not much like visiting the forest.

There was a pause. Everyone looked to Snape for an answer. He closed his eyes for a moment.

“She will have wanted to get as far away from the castle as possible, as quickly as possible,” he said thoughtfully. “I believe our best bet will to walk straight onward from here and hope that we run into her. Agreed?”

When everyone had nodded their consent, they pressed on into the darkness of the Forbidden Forest, hoping that their friend had not yet fallen victim to its many perils, or to whoever might be waiting for her in the shadows; or worse, to her own magic.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Sarah had been walking for hours. It was freezing cold inside the forest, and the farther she passed into its depths, the darker her surroundings became. If she did not know better, she might have assumed that it was extremely late at night. The ground beneath her feet was hard, frozen, and treacherous; more than once, she had tripped over a protruding tree root. The matter was not helped at all by the fact that her vision still had not completely returned to normal. The blackness of the forest, combined with her blurry vision, had considerably slowed down her pace. The going was extremely slow.

Suddenly, and painfully, she found herself wishing that she had her wand.

No, she thought to herself, pushing back the thought, I’m better off without it. If I’d kept it, I’d only be tempted to use it. I would probably only blow myself up, along with half the forest, anyway.

Just as she thought this, her right foot was caught on another root sticking up out of the forest floor; she fell hard. She caught herself with her arms, but it jarred her body. Her arms still ached where her new marks had appeared. Her head was still throbbing dully.

Groaning, she righted herself and continued on her way. She tried shuffling her feet along the ground as she went in an attempt to avoid tripping again. When she came to an unusually large tree which blocked her path, she paused, and came to rest against it. She sighed heavily as she leaned against its cold, rough bark. Her head was swimming with unpleasant thoughts.

Hot tears began to well up in her eyes as she realized that she probably would not be able to find her way back to the castle even if she wanted to, and she doubted even more that her friends, if they were to come searching for her, would ever be able to find her. She bit back a sob and continued onward before she could come to regret her decision any more.

A short time later, she could see what appeared to be a large clearing ahead of her. At least that’s what she might have called it; the trees thinned considerably to make a large opening, but it was only slightly more illuminated than the heart of the forest from which she was emerging. It seemed that even in a clearing, light could just simply not penetrate the forest.

She thought dimly that there was probably some magic at work in the place which caused this phenomenon when a new, strange feeling washed over her.

She suddenly felt as if she could barely move. As cold as she had felt before, there was now an icy presence seeping its way down into her very core, stealing all of the warmth from her blood. Her breathing suddenly seemed difficult and labored; upon exhaling, there was an enormous cloud of steam. She began to shiver violently. She continued onward toward the clearing as best she could, hoping that she might feel slightly warmer there. Her mind seemed to be darkening. All of her worst thoughts were floating to the surface once more, threatening to consume her. She felt hopeless. She felt as if she would never be happy again.

When she reached the edge of the clearing, she sat herself down against the trunk of a tree. She hugged her knees to her chest. Her entire body was shaking. She felt as if she were shutting down. She had no hope left inside of her. She had the overwhelming desire to sit here, in this very spot, in the middle of the icy forest, and never be found. That would be best, wouldn’t it?

She was distracted from her morose thoughts when she heard a soft rustling coming from across the clearing. With effort, she raised her head. Her breath stopped cold in her lungs. There, across the clearing, were two large, cloaked figures. They were moving slowly toward her, and their breathing came in great, hollow rasps. They appeared to have no legs, and only drifted forward, the ends of their tattered cloaks dragging along the forest floor and rustling the dead leaves and twigs there.

Sarah felt the urge to stand and defend herself, but she had no wand. She immediately recognized these creatures from all that she had heard about them.

Dementors.

The icy dread that had settled in upon her was so absolute that she could not even bring herself to her feet in the first place. She sat there, knees hugged tightly to her chest, her bright red eyes locked on the creatures drifting toward her. So this was it, she thought. The end. Her soul was now forfeit. Oh well, a faint voice spoke inside her head, At least I won’t be a danger to anyone anymore….

She closed her eyes as the creatures drifted closer, determined not to look as they would surely pull back their hoods, reveal their grotesque, eyeless faces, and suck out her soul. Almost as soon as she did, however, the aura of cold and dread seemed to dissipate significantly, though it did not disappear. She forced her eyes open to see how the Dementors had stopped themselves in the center of the clearing, and drifted high overhead.

Now Sarah was confused. Should she try to run? No, if these creatures had any intent of harming her they would surely catch her. Maybe they were toying with her? Perhaps Dementors enjoyed more thrilling chase instead of a willing victim who sits quietly and accepts their terrible fate.

Just as she thought this, the opposite end of the clearing was full of movement. More hooded and cloaked figures were emerging from amongst the trees. These ones definitely had legs; they were not Dementors, nor any other terrifying magical creature that Sarah could recognize. There were six of them, just as there had been on the night when she and Harry had first gone to Archer Crescent. A horrible sinking feeling overwhelmed her.

She forced herself up on shaky legs. If she was to die, she would die on her feet.

“Finally,” one of the hooded figures spoke out across the clearing as they drew closer to her, “This is much better, isn’t it? Just us alone. No one else. You have a nasty habit of having interlopers tagging along with you, don’t you?”

Sarah clenched her teeth and did not speak.

“Figured it out then, have you?” the figure spoke again. Sarah’s head tilted slightly to the side. “That’s right, we know everything. We know how dangerous you are. Too dangerous, aren’t you?”

Sarah suddenly bared her teeth and steadied herself on her feet in a fighting stance.

“Yeah,” she yelled back, belying the way in which her heart was pounding frantically, and her knees were shaking, “Then you’ll know to stay back, won’t you? I’ve already beaten all of you once, haven’t I? Surprised I didn’t kill any of you!”

One of the other hooded figures brought something up to Sarah’s view; they appeared to be large, glowing, silvery shackles engraved with runes, and linked together by immensely thick chains.

“Not this time,” a strangely accented voice spoke. Sarah immediately recognized it as belonging to the vampire, Vincent.

“What are you going to do, lock me up? Hah,” Sarah snorted, but she knew that she must not be fooling anyone with her false display of bravado.

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” the first voice spoke again. “We borrowed this little beauty from the Unspeakables. Pretty, isn’t it?”

Before Sarah could react, the strange shackle-device was thrown at her with blinding speed. The shackles did not touch her skin, but linked themselves together around her neck, wrists, and ankles. When they were sealed, she could not move.

“That’s better,” the figure spoke. “Now you can only move if we want you to move.”

The figure raised its arm, pointing a wand straight at her. After only a flick of it, Sarah, against her will, was compelled to move her feet and walk forward. She fought it with all of her might, but to no avail. As she struggled, the glowing bonds shone brighter, like a flickering television set.

“Where are you taking me?” Sarah asked. Her voice was filled with such dread that her own ears barely recognized it.

One of the figures gave a course, gravelly laugh. It was hunched over and appeared to be having difficulty standing upright. Sarah narrowed her eyes at the werewolf.

“Oh, there’s a press conference in about an hour about what you did for us last night,” the first figure said casually. He might have been discussing something as mundane as the weather. “You’ll be a very important guest. You’re going to assassinate the Minister.”


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


The going had become somewhat slower as the five companions made their way deeper into the forest. The intense darkness had set in upon them, and they shone their wands in every direction like aerial search lights, hoping to catch a glimpse of Sarah amongst the trees. They kept their route as straight as they could. All the while, they called her name loudly, hoping to hear a reply.

“Sarah? Sarah!” they all called alternately. Their cries were stifled by the thickness of the forest.

Harry swore softly as he nearly tripped over a root. Ginny’s hands shot forth and grabbed his arm, keeping him from falling.

“It’s so dark in here,” Hermione whispered, “How could she have made it all this way without her wand? Oh, I do hope we find her…,” she trailed off.

“Look, up ahead,” Ron said, pointing some distance before them. There was a place where the trees seemed to thin out in a clearing, and the forest became slightly brighter. “Let’s look in there!” he shouted hopefully, hurrying forward toward the clearing.

When he emerged from the trees, Snape’s heart jumped. There she was. The girl was in the middle of a circle of cloaked, hooded figures who seemed to be taunting her and striking out at her. Wand already drawn, he did even mutter an incantation as his arm shot forward, sending an arc of red light toward the circle.

Before his spell struck, however, one of the figures yelled and deflected Snape’s spell with a loud clang.

“Stop right there!” Snape commanded. “Let her go!”

The laughing and jeering continued for a few moments until the hooded figures realized just how many other people had entered the clearing. They fell silent, all turning toward the spot where Snape, Harry, Ginny, Hermione, and Ron stood, side-by-side, wands drawn.

“We would rather not, actually,” one of the figures spoke up.

Harry’s eyes narrowed. This voice, once again, sounded vaguely familiar to him, and foggy images began swimming across his mind’s eye; an image of a man with an overhanging forehead, long black hair, and a beard streaked with silver. Harry gritted his teeth. He immediately knew he had heard this voice on the night when he and Sarah had been ambushed at Archer Crescent, but why did it seem so familiar to him? Why did he feel as if he had heard it once before that night?

Harry was pulled back into the moment when he began to take stock of the other figures. One of them was burly-looking and hunched, and beneath the hood of another, Harry detected a faint, violet glow.

“The vampire,” he whispered, just loud enough for his companions to hear, “And Greyback.” Everyone nodded once and steeled themselves.

“We know who you are,” Harry shouted back. “We’ll expose you to the authorities!”

The figure in the center laughed loudly. The others chortled as well.

“I’m sorry to break this to you, boy,” the figure with the familiar voice spoke, “But,” the figure’s arms reached up toward his hood, pulling it back. “We are the authorities.”

Harry started at what he saw; standing there in the middle of the hooded figures was none other than Pius Thicknesse, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and former Minister for Magic under Voldemort’s puppet regime, while Imperiused.

All eyes on Harry’s side of the clearing widened. All of them were suddenly beginning to see how the dominos were falling, how the puzzle pieces were all fitting in to place. All of the headlines in the Prophet made sense now, all of their mysterious, anonymous tip-offs and confidential leaks of information about what Sarah and Harry had been up to, all of Thicknesse’s constant criticism and undermining of Shacklebolt’s leadership in light of the Ministry infiltration and the break-in at Gringotts.

Beside Harry, Hermione gave a squeak. She had no doubt figured out the entire puzzle before his mind had even got there.

“So that’s it, is it?” Harry yelled, “Still fancy yourself the proper Minister, and want your job back?”

“Clever,” Thicknesse replied, “That’s the gist of it, yes. The public doesn’t know what is good for them anymore. I am going to see that it is fixed. Enough of Shacklebolt’s lax, weak, Muggle-and-mudblood-loving regime.”

“That Imperius curse must have been poorly performed on you,” Harry spat, “It seems to have addled your brains.”

“Hardly,” Thicknesse shot back, “If anyone’s brains are addled, they are yours, and your little friend’s, here,” Thicknesse said, flicking his wand at Sarah, whose shackles sprang to life and straightened her up into an uncomfortable standing position. She looked like nothing more than a marionette on strings. “So far, you have done everything that we wanted you to do. Now we are here to make sure the final act is completed.”

“And the rest of you?” Harry shouted at them. He now knew Thicknesse’s identity, which he added to the vampire’s and the werewolf’s. The other three, however, were still unknown.

“Just concerned citizens, Potter,” said another voice. Another cloaked figure un-hooded himself. There stood the former Death Eater who had wormed his way deep into Voldemort’s Ministerial regime. Yaxley.

Harry felt as if someone had punched him in the stomach.

The vampire and the werewolf un-hooded themselves as well; their identities were already known. The other two, realizing that they were the only ones still wearing hoods, removed theirs as well. There stood Travers, another Death Eater who should have been dead or locked up in Azkaban, and Runcorn, the massive, Muggleborn-hating ministry employee whom Harry had once transformed into via Polyjuice Potion. Harry felt several more dull blows to his stomach. Once again, it seemed as if the peace he had fought so hard to achieve was crashing down around his ears. It was not difficult to see how these people had escaped Azkaban or execution, with Thicknesse working on their side.

“How did they trick you into springing them, then?” Harry asked.

“It was no trick, Potter,” Yaxley spat back, “As you can see, Thicknesse here is the only one among us who can live a public life after what happened. The rest of us didn’t really fancy spending the rest of our lives in Azkaban, or being killed. I had useful information on how Thicknesse could get his job back. He was interested, so he let me go. I managed to convince him to spring Travers and Runcorn, too. Greyback escaped on his own, of course. Vincent came to us on his own. We don’t fancy having to live the rest of our lives in secret, see?”

“And what information might that have been?” Harry demanded, though he already knew what the answer was.

“You see, when I had unrestricted access to the Ministry, I paid several visits to the Unspeakables down in the Department of Mysteries,” Yaxley explained, sounding quite proud of himself. “They keep track of some interesting stuff down there, Potter, stuff that not even the Minister knows. That’s how we found out about the Mudblood here, the one they took away because they were afraid of her,” he said motioning to Sarah.

"They must have known what we were up to at some point," Thicknesse spoke up, "When they moved what we wanted you to find into Gringotts. They knew you took the phony files. Nearly mucked up the whole thing. The Unspeakables sure cover up their tracks neatly, don't they?"

“What could you possibly want with her?” Harry shouted, eyeing Sarah and the mysterious shackles that were binding her.

“She’s a ticking time bomb, this one,” Yaxley went on, “We just need her to go off in the right place,” he laughed maniacally, and his allies sniggered.

Harry clenched his teeth, tightening the grip on his wand as he pointed it squarely in Yaxley’s direction. There were a thousand questions racing through his mind. Luckily, Snape was the next to speak up, airing a suspicion that had been growing inside of him, too.

“You are responsible for bringing her here, aren’t you?” Snape accused. His wand was trained on Thicknesse’s chest.

“Caught on, have you?” Yaxley laughed again, “That’s right. We went and got her. Plunked her down in the forest and set her off in the right direction,” he explained. “The Imperius Curse is a wonderful tool.”

Sarah, still bound in an uncomfortable standing position by her shackles, shuddered. Her previous night’s thoughts were flooding back to her. That was why she could not remember the names and faces of her ‘friends’, or how she had come to be in the forest in the first place. There had never been any friends; only these deviously plotting people who had grand designs for her to bring about another regime change under their direction. She had been Imperiused, taken across the ocean, placed in the correct location, and supplied with a believable story of how she had come to be there.

She felt her stomach churning. If she could move at all, she might have gagged. This entire time, she had simply been a pawn of these people.

“Release her immediately,” Snape spoke, his tone dangerous. It was clear that, should they not comply, he was ready to kill each and every one of them.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid we can’t be doing that,” Thicknesse said, “She has an important event to attend. We can't keep the good Minister waiting, can we?”

With a quick glance to one another, Harry, Snape, Ginny, Ron, and Hermione all took a step forward, illustrating their readiness to fight. The people on the other end of the clearing, however, did not budge an inch.

“We’re not afraid of you any more, Potter,” Yaxley said, raising his own wand to point squarely at Harry’s chest.

“That’s right,” Thicknesse said. “There’s no need to be. We have the weapon now,” he said, flicking his wand again at Sarah; her strange shackles glowed brighter and moved, compelling Sarah to strike a fighting stance. The look on her face was one of sheer terror.

“She is not a weapon!” Harry shouted, continuing to advance, ready to fight.

“I disagree,” Thicknesse replied flatly, flicking his wand at Sarah again.

The glowing shackles shone even brighter, and Sarah suddenly screamed as if she were under the effects of the Cruciatus Curse. Her body shook as much as the shackles would allow, but she could not move or writhe in pain; only scream out.

“Stop it!” Hermione screamed.

Thicknesse flicked his wand again and Sarah fell silent, tears streaming down her cheeks.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Harry yelled.

“Setting her off,” Thicknesse replied matter-of-factly.

“You fool,” Snape roared, “She’ll kill us all! You included!”

“No chance,” Yaxley huffed, “See these pretty shackles she’s wearing? Borrowed those from the Unspeakables, too. They were developing them to use on inmates in Azkaban. They had to figure out some way of keeping them under control after the Dementors defected to our side, before we took over the Ministry. She won’t be able to do anything that we don’t want her to do.”

Thicknesse flicked his wand again. Sarah gave a piercing cry of pain.

“Enough!” Harry raised his wand, about to strike.

Suddenly, the air around them seemed to grow colder and thicker. Harry tilted his head upward to see two Dementors gliding down toward them from the treetops. He almost laughed.

“Is that the best you’ve got?” he snorted, slashing his wand forward and yelling, “Expecto Patronum!” The silver stag shot forth, blindingly bright in the darkness of the forest. It charged through the air at the Dementor to the left.

Snape followed suit, slashing his wand toward the right Dementor, and shouting, “Expecto Patronum!”

However, he nearly lost all focus on his spell as soon as he saw the Patronus which came forth.

Instead of his silver doe, a huge, silvery, muscular lion had burst forth from the tip of his wand, its thick, regal-looking mane flowing gracefully as it charged toward the Dementor. Its long fangs were bared in a silent roar.

“Wow,” Hermione and Ginny murmured simultaneously. Unfortunately, they had no further time to marvel at the sudden change in Snape’s Patronus.

From the other side of the clearing, spells were being fired at them. The two Patronuses had only managed to send the Dementors back up toward the treetops before their owners were forced to begin dueling the figures across the clearing. The animals of glowing light vanished, and the Dementors began swooping back down, dangerously low. They stayed on the sidelines as the duels began, however, perhaps waiting for the opportune moment to strike…

Everyone else, however, did not have time to think about them. It was a five-on-five duel. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all locked in singular combat with a formidable opponent. Snape, meanwhile, was fighting the vampire, Vincent, whose spell-slinging sword was already unsheathed and working its terrifying magic. Harry was fighting to keep Greyback at bay, who was not so much attempting to duel him as he was trying to physically attack him.

In the middle of it all stood Thicknesse, continuing to torture Sarah, whose screams were growing louder and more pained. Her eyes were shut tightly, and her runed shackles gleamed and glowed as brightly as the spells and curses being fired all around her. The yells of her friends fighting for her were ringing in her ears, and she could see the flashing lights of the duels on her eyelids. It was chaos. She was terrified and helpless. Her friends might be killed before her very eyes. They might die fighting for her.

Even as she screamed in agony, she was beginning to sense the same strange feeling boiling up inside her that she had last experienced in Professor McGonagall’s office before losing control…

When Thicknesse gave her a moment’s reprieve, she bared her teeth and glared at her torturer, and her red eyes flashed dangerously.

“That’s right,” Thicknesse said lowly, “Get mad. Get angry.”

Sarah’s expression of ferocity immediately melted away when she realized what he was trying to do to her. She shut her eyes tightly as she tried her best to focus. No, no! she shouted inside of her head, I won’t, I won’t lose control again, I can’t! Before she could marshal her thoughts any further, Thicknesse laughed as he sent more excruciating pain racking through her body.

Harry yelled in triumph as he landed a particularly well-aimed stunner on Greyback, who yelped as he was blasted back into the trees, temporarily out of sight. He immediately turned to where Thicknesse was standing and raised his wand, but Thicknesse was alert. He raised his own wand; Sarah’s shackles shifted again, causing her to leap directly between he and Harry.

Harry paused just before sending a curse directly at her. He heard Thicknesse’s laugh above the din of the battle.

“Well, if you won’t fight her, then she’ll fight you!” Thicknesse slashed his wand at the girl.

Harry watched as Sarah ran toward him with alarming speed; when she was only a few meters away, she leapt high into the air, her fist drawn back, her face painted in terror.

“Move!” she screamed helplessly to Harry, who seemed to be rooted on the spot.

At the last second, Harry dove to the side. Sarah landed and struck the ground where he was standing with such force that she sent a small wave of earth away from her. Before she could even register what she was doing next, she felt her leg jut out behind her in a sweeping kick, and she connected with something. There was a dull thud as Harry fell to the ground on his back, and Sarah was suddenly standing above him, fist raised.

“No!” Sarah shouted, attempting to fight the control the shackles held over her with every fiber of her being, but it was no use. She felt her fist plummeting downward, and she shut her eyes. She could not possibly watch as she was forced to injure one of her friends.

Mercifully, her fist connected only with dirt, but before she had time to feel relief, she was throwing a flurry of punches and kicks at Harry, who was trying desperately to dodge them. Some distance away, Thicknesse was laughing as he bobbed his wand up and down in Sarah’s direction, controlling her like a puppet.

“Harry, behind you!” Sarah screamed as she attacked her friend; something huge and four-legged was bounding out of the trees directly at Harry.

Harry ducked and wheeled around just to see Greyback lunging at him, his muscular arms outstretched, claws bared. He did the only thing he could do. He dove out of the way and heard a thud as Greyback inadvertently tackled Sarah to the ground. In the split second he had before the werewolf could renew his assault, Harry slashed his wand toward Thicknesse.

“Expelliarmus!”

Thicknesse swore loudly as his wand shot from his hand, twirling through the air for some distance until it came to rest on the edge of the clearing. He scrambled after it, and Harry raised his wand to strike, but a growl from behind told him that he had no time. He spun about again, slashing his wand at the werewolf.

“Sectumsempra!”

The werewolf yelped and retreated back as a large gash appeared across his chest. Harry could see that while Thicknesse did not have his wand, Sarah was lying on the ground, as limp as a rag doll. He ran over to her and his hands shot out for the thick binding around her neck, but as soon as his fingers touched the metal, he received what felt like a strong electric shock.

”Harry!” Sarah was yelling again, and he immediately knew why. A feeling of cold dread washed over him as one of the Dementors drew closer. He stood and raised his wand, but not before a galloping silver horse charged past him, sending the Dementor back toward the trees. Harry turned to see Ginny running toward him, apparently having managed to land a full body bind on Runcorn. He felt a small amount of relief wash over him as he saw that she was alright, but as soon as he turned back, the werewolf was regaining his composure.

“I’m fine!” Harry yelled to her, “Help the others! Distract Thicknesse so he can’t control Sarah any more!”

Ginny gave a quick nod and dashed toward Thicknesse, who was groping for his wand in the underbrush. He picked up a fallen twig hopefully, but then tossed it aside.

Sarah continued to lay motionless on the ground as the fight raged on all around her. She could hear the crackling of spells and cries of pain, though she had no hope of telling who they belonged to. Her head was buzzing. She could feel a strange heat building inside her, but she was trying with all of her might to push it down. She continued to struggle fruitlessly against her bonds.

The werewolf drew nearer to Harry, and they began circling each other slowly. Greyback was snarling, and not even attempting to walk upright. Harry steadied himself. He knew very well that only one of them was going to walk away from this fight.

Without warning, Greyback leapt at him again, but Harry was ready. He spun around with impressive speed, waving his wand through the air in a graceful arc as he managed to pull off another powerful slashing curse nonverbally. A second gash raked the werewolf’s chest, forming a large, bloody X; he yelped and dropped out of the air, but continued charging at Harry.

Sarah was lying close by as she heard Harry and Greyback clashing viciously. The rest of the battle continued to rage on around her, and she could not tell what was going on. Harry soon yelled out in pain, and she was sure that Greyback had managed to hurt him. The helplessness and fear were coursing through her now, and she could no longer manage to push down the anger boiling up inside her.

I need to help, I need to help them, she thought feebly as her mind became slow and sluggish. She was having difficulty pushing thoughts through it now. Her body was still thrumming with the agony that Thicknesse had inflicted on her.

Harry yelled out in pain again, and she also heard a cry which very well might belong to Snape…

Have to… help…

There it was again. Severus was crying out in pain, no doubt inflicted upon him by whoever he was dueling. Little did she know, it was the vampire. She felt indescribable anger building up inside her.

“I’ll kill you!” she roared out, attempting to thrash against the bonds holding her, “I’ll kill all of you for this!” At that instant, she felt everything at once. She felt the anger, the pain, the sadness of learning the truth, of learning she had a family that was unaware of her existence, of learning why she had been abducted away from her birthplace and swept under the rug, and learning how these manipulative men had plotted to use her as a weapon. She couldn’t help it any more.

She felt herself slipping away, and she could not stop it.

Her eyes fell shut. When they opened again, they were glowing; bright, solid red.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


Harry was in bad shape. He had already been slashed across the chest by Greyback, and now the werewolf had knocked him down onto his back and was looming above him, his arm held aloft, claws gleaming. He struggled to raise his wand again, and braced himself for another savage blow…

Before anything else could happen, he felt the ground tremble powerfully beneath him. There came what sounded like a loud explosion from just several meters away, accompanied by a bright flash. The werewolf yelped suddenly and sprang back as if something had struck him; Harry rolled onto his front to look toward the source of the light.

Sarah was on her feet, but Harry’s stomach sank at what he saw. In spite of the strange, magical bonds sealed around her neck, ankles, and wrists, she was standing. Her face was not visible to him, but by the red light he could see, he knew her eyes were glowing bright red in the darkness of the clearing… So too was the strange mark on her wrist, and the odd new stripes on her forearms.

The werewolf let out another loud growl, and Harry watched as Sarah’s head turned slowly in the direction of the noise. Harry’s mouth fell open. There were glowing red stripes adorning her face now, just beneath her eyes, and along her cheeks. The damage was spreading rapidly.

Harry heard the werewolf charging at him again. He rolled onto his back, his wand pointed at Greyback’s chest. He braced himself for impact, but it never came. There was another blinding flash of light, and he watched as the werewolf was quite literally blasted backward a considerable distance.

While Greyback was still airborne, Harry righted himself into a sitting position, just in time to see the final, gruesome moments of Fenrir Greyback’s life; he had been blasted back with such incredible force that he landed on, and was quite literally impaled through the chest by, a jagged, out-jutting branch belonging to a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing. Greyback twitched pathetically for a few moments before falling quite still.

Harry should have been relieved, but he was more frightened than ever. He jumped to his feet and faced Sarah. He felt a fresh rush of fear course through his body. As far as he could tell from her glowing, pupilless eyes, she was staring straight at him. Even so, she gave no sign whatsoever that she recognized him. Her face was blank and impassive. Her hair and clothing was flowing just as Harry had seen before, as if an unnatural wind was being whipped up all around her.

When Sarah made no move, Harry took advantage of the momentary pause to survey the battlefield. Runcorn was still down and struggling against the body bind which had been placed upon him by Ginny. She was now dueling with Thicknesse who had apparently retrieved his wand. Hermione was still locked in combat with Yaxley, holding her own, and Ron, who had just managed to stun Travers, was rushing to her aid.

Snape looked once more as if he were fencing with the vampire. They were in extremely close combat, moving blazingly fast. Snape looked somewhat bloodied, and parts of his long, flowing robes were torn. Luckily, the Dementors were still keeping to the edges of the clearing.

Harry hesitated. He didn’t know what to do next. It did not look as if Snape were faring well against Vincent, but Thicknesse looked about ready to overpower Ginny. He needed to be permanently disarmed or incapacitated in order to prevent him from attempting to exert any more control over Sarah in her dangerous state. He nodded once to himself and began sprinting toward Ginny, firing curses at the vampire as he ran; when Vincent had to pause in his attacks in order to deflect the spells with his blade, Snape was able to adjust himself and gain a better footing.

Harry reach Ginny just in time to feel as if a brick wall had struck him in the side. Thicknesse had sent stunners at both of them. He was grazed in the arm. Ginny managed to sidestep it, but was forced to lose her balance and tumble to the ground. Harry was pushed back as well, and the wind was knocked out of his lungs.

Thicknesse, still standing, saw the girl standing some distance away from him, eyes aglow.

“Perfect!” he shouted, “Yes, yes, yes!” he raised his wand and pointed it at her, giving it a flick.

No, no, Harry groaned inside his head, turning to look at Sarah. He watched as she was forced to turn in their direction, and one of her arms was raised out in front of her, her palm outstretched, her fingers splayed…

Harry scrambled over to where Ginny lay, and covered her with his body, his eyes shut tight…

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes again and saw Sarah’s entire body tense visibly. Under her own power, she yanked her arm back to her side. She tilted her head slightly at Thicknesse.

“No!” Thicknesse screamed, slashing his wand toward the girl a second time.

Her entire body tensed again. He was inflicting pain upon her once again. Sarah’s eyes remained open, glowing brightly, glued on Thicknesse. She bared her teeth and let out a fearsome yell.

With another blinding flash of light, Harry smothered Ginny with his body again, just in time; the bonds holding Sarah exploded. A shockwave of force was sent through the clearing, knocking anyone who was still standing off of their feet. Chunks of metallic shrapnel were sent in every direction.

Travers was just regaining his footing, but was knocked off of his feet by the shockwave. A shard of metal struck him directly in the throat. He fell to the grass, writhing and clutching at his neck, attempting to stem the flow of blood that was gushing forth from him.

When everything settled momentarily, Harry looked up again. Sarah was standing motionless on the spot where she had broken her bonds.

“You idiot!” Harry shouted at Thicknesse, “Do you realize what you’ve done?!”

Thicknesse did not reply. Instead, he shot a curse straight at Sarah.

“No!” Harry yelled, he raised his wand and attempted to conjure a shield charm between her and the curse, but he was not fast enough.

When the spell reached Sarah, she simply batted it away. It ricocheted off of the back of her hand into the trees where it exploded, creating a small fire. Sarah then turned to directly face Thicknesse, eyes ablaze, face blank. Harry felt his stomach sinking again as he knew what was to happen next. He stood up, lifting Ginny roughly by her shoulders.

“Run!” he shouted, steering her toward the other side of the clearing where Snape was again battling the vampire after the momentary pause. Hermione and Ron were still fighting Yaxley.

Harry did not even see what happened next. There was another huge explosion. He felt a wave of heat nearly burning his back as he retreated from the spot where Sarah was, and another shockwave sent both he and Ginny tumbling to the ground. They scrambled to their feet again. Ginny began firing hexes at Yaxley, while Harry shot a stunner squarely at the vampire’s head.

In that moment, the vampire ducked Harry’s spell and managed to slash Snape viciously with his blade. Snape staggered back, and the vampire instantly shifted his attention to The-Boy-Who-Lived. Harry soon found himself overwhelmed. He doubted he had ever fought a fiercer or more agile opponent than Vincent. It was all he could do to avoid the wicked, slashing blade which pursued him ruthlessly at every movement.

Harry could not shift his attention from his fight with the vampire. Hermione, Ron, and Ginny were all absorbed in fighting Yaxley. None of them saw as Sarah slowly turned to face them. Snape lay bleeding on the ground a short distance away. His wand had fallen from his hand.

In the heat of battle, no one noticed as the cold washed over them once again.

The Dementors were swooping down upon them. They had spotted a prone, defenseless victim.

Harry could see the shadowy, hooded figures moving in the corner of his eye, but he could spare no time to conjure his Patronus. Come on, Snape, come on, he found himself crying inside his head, come on! He could hear the sucking, the rasping breath…

Snape was paralyzed when the Dementors swooped down upon him. He was wounded, and frozen. With his right hand, he groped for his wand in the grass beside him, but could not find it. He could not bring himself to yell out for help. His heart nearly stopped beating when he felt the cold, scaly hand tilt his chin upward.

“No, no!” Harry shouted, but he could not disentangle himself from Vincent, or risk turning away. If he did, the vampire would surely run him through.

The Dementors were looming directly above Snape, drawing their hoods back. He felt a strange rush of affection for the man whom he had once hated, and a strong desire to save him…

The girl with the glowing red eyes watched passively as the two hideous creatures loomed above the dark-haired man lying on the ground. They tilted his head upward, drawing their hoods back from their heads, exposing their hideous, eyeless faces and their great, sucking mouths. They were preparing to feast upon the man’s soul.

The girl’s glowing red eyes widened slightly as she witnessed the act. A faint voice was speaking inside her mind. Something wasn’t quite right here.

No, no… the voice whispered, trying to break through the haze, Severus… Severus… No…

The girl was watching as one of the creatures lowered its mouth down, sucking relentlessly. The man’s body became taut as he attempted to turn his head away, but the creature’s hand held fast to his neck…

No… Severus… Severus… the dim voice grew louder. The glowing red eyes widened further.

No… No… NO! The voice screamed, piercing through the haze. The creature released its grip on the man. His head fell limply to the side.

NO!

The girl’s eyes shut tight as she waged a fierce battle within her own mind.

Another shockwave rent the clearing.

“No!” Sarah yelled out, her voice blaring, echoing far and wide.

Harry was lying on the ground, having been knocked over again. His eyes fell upon Sarah.

When she opened her eyes, they were still glowing quite brightly, but her familiar red irises were clearly visible amidst the whites. She blinked hard several times as she looked down and examined herself. The stripes on her arms were glowing, as well as the mark on her wrist. She could not see, but the new stripes on her face were glowing, too.

She was completely aware of herself. For the first time, she could feel the tremendous amounts of magical energy flowing through her body. She felt invincible. She felt unstoppable. She also felt an excruciating pain which seemed to permeate through to the very core of her being, threatening to tear her very soul asunder. Immediately, she knew that this might be the last sensation she ever experienced.

She snapped back to reality when she saw the movement of creatures hovering above Severus. She suddenly realized what had happened.

They had taken away his soul. His soul…

Sarah’s eyes grew quite wide before she lunged forward a sizeable distance toward the Dementors. Part of her had no idea what she was doing, but another part of her was acting purely upon the instinct and magic flowing within her. When her feet hit the ground, she shot both of her palms forth. She sent two streaks of blindingly white energy toward the creatures, brighter and more pure than sunlight; when they were struck by it, the Dementors gave a shrieking cry, and disintegrated. She had killed them.

The only two enemies now left standing were Vincent and Yaxley. All dueling had paused as a result of the blinding flash of what seemed like sunlight which had destroyed the Dementors. Sarah turned toward them next, and Ron gave a whimper as he saw her. Hermione began backing toward the edge of the clearing.

“Take cover!” Harry shouted to them, taking a firm grip of Ginny’s wrist and pulling her toward the trees. He could definitely sense that something was different about Sarah this time, but he still did not trust her overwhelming, volatile power. She might very well inadvertently kill all of them. Together, they all sprinted for the cover of the trees.

“Vampire,” Sarah growled as she turned to Vincent. Her voice was extremely loud and menacing; it sounded as if many people were speaking at once. There were very few thoughts racing through Sarah’s mind at this point. This man had hurt Snape. This man had incapacitated him. This man was the reason he had fallen victim to the Dementors. She lunged at him.

Vincent steadied himself, a confident sneer upon his gaunt face. He raised his sword at the girl, but his features twisted into a grimace of fright and disgust as he lost his grip on the hilt. It had burned him. He hurried to grab it again, but it was too far out of his reach; the chain attaching the blade to his wrist snapped taut. His violet eyes widened as he watched the girl slash her hand toward him. He could do nothing but sputter and gag his chain began to coil itself around his neck.

No one else was watching as Sarah began to savage him with his own weapons. Yaxley had attempted to help his ally when the girl attacked him, but failed. When Sarah finally stopped, both men were lying quite still on the clearing’s floor, and Sarah’s body and face were spattered in blood. Her attention then caught when she saw Runcorn squirming on the ground some distance away, still struggling against a body-bind, and plainly terrified at the fate which had just befallen his comrades. Pitilessly, Sarah slashed her hand toward where he lay. Five thin streaks of bright yellow energy shot out at him, racking his body with a cutting curse so powerful that some of his limbs nearly parted his company. He moved no more.

Harry, Ron, Hermione, and Ginny were all crouched behind a fallen tree on the edge of the clearing, watching her with trepidation. Was she about to turn on them next? Would they become the next bloody masses upon the forest floor?

As he was closer to his friends, Harry could see the signs of battle that they bore. Ginny was clutching her shoulder tightly; it looked as if the wounds that Sarah had given her were reopened, and bleeding. Hermione had a couple of gashes on her cheeks, and her face was smudged with dirt and sweat. Ron had a large welt on his forehead, and a sizeable bruise was forming on his cheek, and his lower lip was bloodied. Someone might have punched him directly in the face. At the same time, Harry could feel his own chest throbbing painfully, and fresh, warm blood dripping down his front where Greyback had managed to claw him. Fortunately, the wounds did not seem to be much worse than the ones he had previously received from the werewolf.

Harry clutched the fallen tree tightly. His knuckles grew white. As bad as his friends already looked, he knew that Sarah could do far worse to them, if she wanted.

“It’s okay,” Sarah spoke. Her voice still sounded strange. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

They all poked their heads out from behind the fallen tree, watching as Sarah turned toward Snape’s lifeless body. Even though her eyes were burning red, it was obvious that she was consumed with an overwhelming sadness. Her eyes dimmed slightly, and she lowered her head.

Harry swallowed back a huge lump which had been developing in his throat. None of the others had seen what happened.

“The Dementors,” he choked out quietly, his voice hoarse, “His soul… his soul is gone…,”

Hermione and Ginny both let out sobs. Ron bowed his head.

“Don’t worry,” Sarah said. As she began to walk slowly toward Snape, she looked incredibly calm. The strange, unnatural wind was still being whipped up around her as a result of the immense power flowing through her body, threatening to tear her apart. Her hair and clothes were flowing. The blood which streaked her was drying quickly.

Harry suddenly had an extremely bad feeling. He attempted to rise up and jump over the fallen tree which he was hiding behind, but before he could even flex his knees, one of Sarah’s hands shot forth toward him. He was immobilized.

“No,” Sarah spoke simply. “Don’t come close. Don’t interfere.”

Sarah was now standing next to Snape’s limp, soulless body. He was still breathing, but his eyes were closed, and he did not move. She knew very well that his soul was gone.

Unable to move, Harry yelled out at her. The trees all around him were swaying violently as if there were a powerful storm moving through. He could barely even hear his own voice, but when Sarah spoke again, he could hear her quite clearly.

“Don’t worry,” she repeated, looking down at the soulless body of the man she had fallen in love with, “Souls have been split before, haven’t they?” Crazy ideas were rushing into her mind, but from exactly where, she could not say. She had begun to feel even more strange after killing those men, and even more powerful…

Ron tried to run forward as well, but he too could not move. None of them could.

“What are you talking about?!” Harry screamed at the top of his lungs.

Sarah merely looked up in their direction and smiled weakly.

She knew that she might very well be looking at her friends for the last time. She hoped that her smile had communicated everything to them; how much she loved them, and how much she appreciated their sacrifices, especially Harry’s, on her behalf. She would never know what she had done to deserve such loyal, caring friends.

She then looked back to Snape. The power and the pain coursing through her were quickly becoming too much for her body to handle. She barely knew what she was doing, or what was compelling her to do it, but she knew she had to act now, or it would be too late.

When she pressed her hands to her chest, she was acting on some purely unknown instinct. With what little cognitive faculty she had left to her, she assumed that the immense amount of magic within her body was instilling her with some frightening amount of magical knowledge, giving her the ability to do anything she could possibly desire, but at a great cost…

Harry, Ron, Ginny, and Hermione were forced to watch helplessly. When Sarah drew her arms from her chest, she was holding something strange; a large, swirling ball of glowing red light, pulsing frantically in her hands as if it were a second heart. It looked swollen and ready to burst.

“What is that?” Ginny screamed. It was almost impossible to hear anything now. The trees were swaying violently, the unnatural wind was howling in their ears, and the strange object in Sarah’s hands seemed to be emitting a strange sort of low-frequency hum.

Harry remained silent for several moments, transfixed. He had never actually seen one before, but he knew what it must be.

“Her soul!” he screamed back, and his heart skipped a beat. He had just made sense of Sarah’s words. “No, no, no! Sarah, stop! Stop! You’ll kill yourself!” he shouted, waving his arms at her wildly, but Sarah made no sign that she had seen or heard him. She continued to stare down at the pulsing, swirling mass of light in her hands with a sad expression on her face.

Her body was still experiencing incredible pain, but she also felt pain outside of her, too, in the unstable mass of the soul. She knew what she had to do. It was too late for her now. The damage was done. It would be broken, either way…

She placed her hands on either side of the soul, and began to open her arms as if she were going to embrace someone…

“What is she doing?!” Ron bellowed as he watched.

Hermione’s jaw had dropped open. She knew exactly what was going on.

“She killed those men!” she yelled, “She’s splitting her soul before it tears itself apart! Like with a Horcrux!” Hermione was aghast. She had no idea where Sarah could have possibly learned to do something like this.

She was acting only on instinct. The powerful magic inside her body was guiding her.

“No!” Harry groaned out, tensing every muscle in his body as he attempted to stand, but he was thoroughly immobilized by Sarah’s spell. His arms were free, but he could not move from the spot. Even if he could move, he would be loathe to approach Sarah any closer. Something told him that he might be killed by the pressure.

Sarah’s arms were parting wide; the swirling mass of red light began to distort and stretch, and as it did, she let out a wail of unspeakable pain which grew louder and louder as her hands moved farther apart. When it finally split in two, Sarah’s cry echoed deafeningly through the forest, and she fell to her knees beside Snape’s body, holding the two halves of her soul in her hands.

With one last sad look toward her friends, she began to move. This was it. She just hoped, somehow, that it would work…

Severus… I love you…

This was her final thought as, with her left hand, she attempted to push half of her soul back into her body; her right hand stretched toward Snape, pushing the other half into his chest…

“NO!” Harry screamed out, but a split second later he could see no more.

A blinding flash of white overwhelmed his eyes. All sound vanished from the world. For a few brief moments, the forest fell away, and there was nothing but light.

Then, all was still and silent.


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There’s chapter 29 for you! I hope you enjoyed it. It was a very fun chapter to write.

I really hope you all stay tuned because you want to see how it ends! I believe that the next chapter, chapter 30, will be the final chapter of my story.

I will try to have it out relatively soon.

As always, thank you for reading, Please leave a review if you would be so kind! I haven’t gotten any in forever.

An interesting side-note... Out of pure curiosity, I just performed a word count on everything I have written so far (Chapters 1-29, excluding all author's notes)... and based on the word counts of ALL of the Harry Potter books, my story is longer than any of them! CRAZY! According to my word count vs. the official word counts, my story is currently 8008 words longer than Order of the Phoenix.

Needless to say I am feeling very proud of myself and what I have written. I really hope you all continue to enjoy my story. Stay tuned!