Hello everyone! Princess Nekita here! Guess what! I read Order of the Phoenix in one day! ONE! I'm quite proud! Anyway, I realize that the other story I had posted here needed much revamping after the introduction of book 5, and quite frankly, I'm getting bored with it. I had intended to do a whole sequel too, but alas… So here's my new baby! I got inspired right after reading the fifth book, and the whole plot's been stewing in my head for a few days, but I think I like where it's going. It has a similar basis as my previous story, 'On Wings of Secrecy', but I think this one is executed in a much better way than 'Wings'. Okay, enough of my blabbing, ON WITH THE STORY!
Chapter One: Building a MysteryYou come out at night
That's when the energy comes
And the dark side's light
And the vampires roam
You strut your Astor wear
And a suicide poem
And a cross from a faith
That died before Jesus came
You're building a mystery…
– Building a Mystery by Sarah McLauchlan
Severus groaned inwardly as he sat down at the staff table and watched the numerous children that poured into the Great Hall. He was dreading another year of this – teaching lousy brats who were so completely convinced of their own ability, when in fact, it was nothing short of pitiful.
And it wasn't as if he didn't already have enough on his plate. For some strange reason, the Dark Lord was becoming evermore impervious to the Potion Master's attempts to extract any useful information.
But this was no time to be considering such things, as students filed into their house tables, Severus decided. So he made a mental note to look through these uncertainties when he was back within the confines of his office.
Through narrowed eyes, Severus kept a closely watchful eye on the Potter boy as he came into view along with his friends at the Gryffindor table, unaware that his fists were balled and shaking. The boy had no respect for privacy, and Severus doubted he would ever forgive the little brat for sneaking into his Pensieve last year.
As Harry Potter surveyed the staff table, looking for new faces, his eyes locked briefly with those of his Potions professor. The man's dark, fathomless eyes were angrily narrowed and Harry sullenly looked away as his conviction withered beneath him. He realized that he had still not told Ron and Hermione about his little trip through Snape's Pensieve. He couldn't, Harry realized; he had already breached what little (if any) trust there was between him and Snape. He was not about to go blabbing what he had seen to the entire school.
"Hey, Harry," Ron began, seated to Harry's left. "I don't recognize anyone new. Who's the new DADA professor?"
The same thought had entered Harry's mind moments earlier. "I dunno, Ron. Maybe they're not here yet?"
"I don't really care who teaches us this year." Hermione said matter-of-factly. "No one can even come close to Umbridge last year. Whoever it is will be a welcome change."
"Well, you're right about one thing, Hermione, but I reckon Snape could have given her a run for her money." Ron laughed.
"Don't even think it, Ron. Snape's an angel compared to her," Harry said, maybe a little too forcefully.
"Whoa, sure, Harry… I'm just wondering if Snape's meddled with your head a little too much during that Occlumency stuff."
"No, Ron, I'm fine. I just want to get this over with. What letter are they at, Hermione?"
"'R' about now," said Hermione, who was quite content to watch the Sorting, rather than debate the useless with the two boys. Harry and Ron clapped lazily as another Gryffindor was named and seated at their table.
When at last the Sorting was over, Professor Dumbledore stood to make his annual Start-of-Term speech. "Welcome, welcome, to all the new faces, as well as the old. To all those returning to Hogwarts this year, I wish you all a much better succession to the year's last, and remind you all that my policy will be no less strict than it was before last year's… unpleasantness. To all first years, the rules stand thus: The Forbidden forest is named such for a reason, so don't be wandering anywhere near the vicinity. There is to be no magic used in the halls or corridors, and there are to be no students out of bed after curfew. That said –
But Dumbledore was suddenly interrupted by the loud creaking of the large oak doors as a new person entered the Great Hall. The tall, lean figure, swathed in a long, black traveling cloak, pushed back it's hood, revealing the head of a woman beneath it. Harry's first impression was of Snape; except that this woman was one of the most beautiful he had ever seen. Her flawless skin was pale ivory and her long, shiny hair was blacker than the blackest night sky. She had a narrow jaw, high cheekbones, and thin, stern eyebrows, beneath which sat two gleaming eyes. Her right eye was a startling green, but the left was scarlet with a slitted pupil and a scar running down it, right over her eyelid, past her brow, and down to her cheek. It was a startling image. Harry wondered how a thing of such beauty could be twisted by something so… sinister.
"My apologies, Headmaster," spoke the woman in a stern, yet captivating tone. "There was an…incident which required my attention."
"I see. Business as usual, or something more?"
"Business as usual, though I intend to have another little chat with my subordinates."
"Good, good." Then in a louder voice, Dumbledore said, "May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher: Professor… ah…—
"Seraph," supplied the woman, quickly.
"Yes," Dumbledore agreed with a small smile. "I trust that you will show Professor Seraph the same respect that you show your other professors. That said, tuck in, everyone!" Suddenly all the tables were covered in platters of food, but for once, Harry Potter and Ron Weasley were not attacking these; they were still staring at their new professor as she made her way up to the Head Table.
"You know, I think this is going to be our best Defense class yet, this year." Ron said with a stupid grin plastered across his face.
"Yeah…" Harry agreed.
"Oh, will the two of you just shut up." Hermione said with exasperation. "You're acting like you've never seen a woman before."
"None like that," said Ron as the pair turned and began to pile food onto their plates.
"Wonder what happened to her eye." Dean said from across the table.
"Well," said Hermione, as if it were the plainest thing in the world, "It looks like she got into a fight and got slashed across her face.
"Obviously," agreed Dean, "but why's it all red and creepy? It looks like—
"It looks like one of Voldemort's eyes." Harry interrupted, and the end of the table went silent.
"Really? He has eyes like that?" Hermione asked.
Harry nodded glumly and shoved more potatoes into his mouth.
"You don't think…?"
"Don't be stupid, Ron." Hermione snapped. "If she was one of Voldemort's minions, Professor Snape would probably know about it, and Harry would have had—
"Drop it, Hermione." Harry said angrily. "She doesn't work for him."
Dumbledore had called a short staff meeting, after the welcoming feast, in his office, which was why Severus was, at the moment, traveling up the spiral staircase towards the door with the griffin knocker. As he entered the room, he found Albus sitting at his desk, and Minerva in a chair across from him.
"Have a seat, Severus," said Albus, indicating the chair to McGonagall's left. "Lemon Sherbet?"
"No, thank you. Can we get to the point, Albus? I daresay you have something important to share, seeing as you've only summoned the two of us."
"Yes, yes, we are simply waiting for Professor Seraph," said Dumbledore with a hint of uneasiness.
"Who is she?" pressed Snape. "I've only seen one other person with eyes like that, and you don't even know how he became so… disfigured."
"I assure you, I don't know what the reason is behind her appearance, Severus, and I'm not about to delve into her personal life—
"Which I thank you for, greatly, Albus." Professor Seraph had appeared behind the two Heads of House, and moved to stand at the side of the desk, next to the Headmaster. Severus felt a shiver flow through him as she passed.
"Might I inquire as to the disturbance you mentioned before?" asked Dumbledore, whom neither Minerva, nor Severus, had ever seen so unsure of himself. There was something about that woman…
"Simply Phobos and Deimos, but I have already spoken to them," she replied briskly.
"Are you sure they are to be trusted?"
Professor Seraph sighed heavily. "Apart from the Bright One, they are the only ones I trust.
"Albus, excuse me," interrupted McGonagall, "but what's going on?"
"That is precisely what I would like to know, as well." Severus said, with narrowed eyes.
Albus turned back towards the woman beside him, still clad solely in black. "I'm not exactly sure what it is you would like me to tell them."
"The truth, Albus," said Professor Seraph. "I will trust your people only because I fear that I cannot trust my own."
"Perhaps it is better if you explain, then."
"Very well," she said with a nod, and turned to the two professors across from her.
"There is a war brewing," she began, "not only here on Earth, but in Heaven as well. A great weapon has been stolen, a weapon of God. Heaven has become divided with this knowledge, and, quite frankly, not even the High Powers can be sure of who is still loyal to the throne. This is why they have sent me."
"And why are they so sure that you can be trusted?" asked Severus.
Professor Seraph simply smiled. "I am a Seraphim, an Angel of the highest rank in Heaven, but more importantly, I am the Angel of Death. This is a weapon that I alone have the authorization to wield; therefore, I must get it back."
Severus snorted and turned to stare contemptuously at his employer. "Albus, do you really believe this?"
"Severus…"Albus hissed warningly, but Professor Seraph held out her hands as a sign of resolve. Now that her hands had extricated themselves from her cloak, all three professors could see that she wore a silver ring on every finger except for her thumbs. Each ring was delicately crafted, and each bore the form of a different creature, a raven, a griffin, a cat, and a wolf on one hand, and a serpent, a bat, a dragon, and a scorpion on the other. Though, of all the rings, only the serpent bore any colour to its appearance; two tiny emeralds set into its eyes.
"Not to worry, Albus, if anyone can make a believer out of a Slytherin, it's me." And with that, Professor Seraph spread her arms wide, exhaled once, and her form was simply not there anymore. Or, at least, it wasn't solid. In the middle of the Headmaster's office now hovered a wispy orb-like figure that seemed to be made of black smoke, except that it also seemed to have become luminous. Six black wings were attached to the back of what was assumed to be the torso, and two eyes, one green, one red, shone sinisterly from the middle of the face.
Severus swore he felt his heart stop for a moment as he beheld this heavenly (or hellish) sight. He gripped the arms of his chair so hard that his knuckles turned white, and he felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. The feeling of being so close to this radiant figure was hard to distinguish, Severus realized as he tried to put words to the experience. It was like being so extremely happy that you thought you were about to burst, while at the same time experiencing an incredible emotional pain. It was wondrous; it was ecstatic. It was so… immense… and then it disappeared as the solid form of Professor Seraph once again replaced the luminous smoke.
Judging from the sudden intake of breath from the body beside him, Severus realized that Professor McGonagall must have felt the same thing as he. Looking across the desk, he saw that Dumbledore was unable to suppress a violent shiver.
"My god…" whispered the Potions Master, as he struggled to calm his wildly beating heart.
"Not quite," laughed the black robed woman.
"Does… does Death always appear as a woman?" asked Severus softly as he stared hesitantly up at the Angel. He was now thoroughly convinced enough to call her for what she apparently was.
"Funny you should ask…" she mused. "I do prefer the form of a woman, but that is my choice alone. There are many other forms I sometimes inhabit as well as that of a human. Though I often enjoy the irony; women were made to be sustainers of life, and here I am, the Angel of Death, parading around as a woman."
"May I ask a question?" Professor McGonagall spoke up.
"Certainly."
"What do you need us for? Wouldn't your task be simpler if you left us out of it?"
The Angel sighed. "Not exactly. I require the assistance of two souls. One which shares the likeness of my own, and another," she glanced sorrowfully at the serpent on her left index finger, "which does not. Other than that, I am afraid I must tell you no more."
"Yes, but does this have anything to do with He Who Must Not Be Named?" McGonagall pressed.
The Angel of Death laughed her sharp, piercing laugh. "You humans and your names. You put too much emphasis on a simple name. So much so that you fear to even mention it for fear that something disastrous should come to pass. Voldemort." She said the name slowly and deliberately, letting each syllable pass over her tongue like a connoisseur swirling a sip of wine, not bothering to notice the shudder that passed through the other woman. "Pitiful, I think. Although, it does have a nice ring to it."
"Do you have a name?" Severus asked somewhat slyly. "Or do you Angels refer to each other merely by rank and title?"
The Angel smiled. "My name is Mavet, and as cliché as it may sound, everyone screams it at one point in their life." She then turned back to Dumbledore. "Albus, you know where to find me if you need me. Until then, however, I bid you all a good night." And with that, Mavet swept from the office, nothing but a flowing figure of ebony with an amazing presence.
"Albus," began McGonagall, once the angelic specter had left, "I think you're in over your head this time."
"Yes, Minerva, I believe we are."
Severus said nothing. He couldn't seem to rid himself of the sickening feeling that crawled within his chest. Even after he had excused himself and left the Headmaster's office the same feeling of dread continued to rule him, made his throat tighten and his breath shorten. He continued to stare at the ceiling for hours, unable to rest or find peace. It was very late indeed when the potions master finally drifted off to sleep.
Yay! My first chapter! Now you know whatcha gotta do! REVIEW! P.S. As of right now, I don't have a beta, so if anyone would like the job just e-mail me (in my profile) with something like 'can I be your beta?' in the subject box. THNX!