Note: Thanks are due to my beta-reader, Patrick, for catching various small errors, polishing my writing style, and contributing a number of insights into the character of Cho Chang and her relationships with Harry Potter and Cedric Diggory. If you enjoy this story, I would highly recommend his stories posted at The Astronomy Tower and on this site under the names Monkeymouse and Dungeonwonk. Additional thanks are due to my Brit-picker, LazyNeutrino, for catching a few more errors and for her input on Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and differences between British and American culture.

Epilogue: Consecration

"By the pricking of my thumbs,

Something wicked this way comes."

--The Weird Sisters, in Shakespeare's Macbeth

The masked wizard knelt on the cold flagstone floor, eyes downcast, avoiding the penetrating stare of the reptilian red eyes that gazed out from beneath his Master's hood. At last, his Master spoke.

"You have served me well, Higgs."

"My Lord?" The young man glanced up in surprise. "The mission failed, my Lord."

His Master gave an almost imperceptible shrug. "Even I have been known to fail, Higgs," he said softly. "The fault in this case was Macnair's; he failed to anticipate that Potter might not be alone when he received the challenge, or that he would so easily vanquish the dementors." The sibilant voice sharpened with irritation. "Thanks to Macnair's blunder, they have broken off our negotiations for the release of my faithful servants languishing in Azkaban.

"Macnair has been suitably punished for his lack of foresight – and unless he redeems himself by succeeding in his next assignment, I may permit Dolohov and the Lestranges to express their… gratitude for the extension of their incarceration. Macnair fancies himself the most vicious of all my Death Eaters; I believe he may have forgotten what Antonin and Bellatrix are capable of…." The red eyes glinted maliciously.

"In any case, the information you provided was correct, and may yet prove useful."

"I see, my Lord."

"You do," his Master agreed. "And that is why you will be the first wizard to join the ranks of my Death Eaters since my return. Hold out your left hand."

Higgs felt long, cold white fingers close about his wrist in an iron grip. His Master touched his wand to Higgs' forearm and hissed, "Morsmordre Stigma!" Higgs gritted his teeth at the searing pain but remained silent as the Dark Mark was burned into his flesh.

And at that moment, Harry Potter awoke in an upper room in Number Twelve Grimmauld Place, his scar burning into his forehead like a hot knife.

"Wuzzat?" Ron mumbled, half-asleep, from across the room.

"Nothing; it's nothing," Harry lied. "Just a bad dream. Go back to sleep."

Ron was already asleep again before Harry finished the sentence. And, hard as he tried to recall it, he'd started to forget the dream as soon as he woke up. It was another half hour before he dropped back into sleep, feeling deeply troubled.

Finis

Note: Thank you very much for reading. If you have something to say about this story, please review. All praise, analysis, speculation, and constructive criticism are welcome and will receive prompt and civil replies on the review thread. Suggestions and demands for changes in the storyline will receive a respectful hearing, but will probably not be implemented, as this story is already written in its entirety, and I feel no desire to rewrite it at this time. Any flames will be deleted; moderation hath its privileges. I look forward to hearing from you all.