As Severus entered the headmaster's office, he carefully took note of his surroundings. Since Albus's demise, no-one had entered the room. Even after his return, no-one wanted to set foot in the place, let alone clean it. They considered it to be disrespectful. Severus considered this to be bullshit. It seemed that he and McGonagall alone visited the old man now. Even before his fall, many had considered Albus to be getting too old for his position, and when he had returned to it as a (albeit good natured and wise) spectre, many parents had taken their children out of Hogwarts, transferring them to either Durmstrang or Beauxbatons, damn the cost. Hogwarts had seen better days.

Peering down at the mahogany sideboards that lined the walls, holding multiple bowls of slightly dusty sweets, Severus smiled. Judging by the lines of feather trails left on the dusty coating of the wood, Fawkes was determined to keep the place looking respectable, even if the only thing he had to dust with was his backside. Almost as if on cue, a loud squawk emanated from a shady corner of the room. Much like the castle that housed him, Fawkes looked shabbier than usual. His plumage was dulled, his talons chipped, and the glimmer in his eye that he shared with his owner was much dulled. Severus recognised this. He was coming to the end of yet another life. Severus gave the creature a kindly pat on the head as he walked past, taking satisfaction in the knowledge that not even Minerva could get away with that without a rather large claw mark as a warning. Even if others still believed him to be a traitor, it warmed Severus' heart to know that Fawkes was aware of his sacrifices, and respected them. Even after his story had been leaked into the tabloids, May Rita Skeeter rot in an Azkaban cell, very few people actually believed that Severus was loyal to the light. He had even received death threats, which to be quite honest, he wasn't at all phased by. What had chilled him to the core, was the blame being piled on him for one thing in particular. Once his connection to the Potter family had been outed, he had been branded the "Potter Killer". Even though Severus had not set foot in the Potter residence until after the heinous at had been committed, it did not stop the blame for their demise being placed entirely on his shoulders. Though the hatred for James Potter was still embedded in his heart, despite shrinking gradually over the years, being blamed for the death of his Lily had wrenched Severus' heart in two. He made a point of never showing deep emotion, especially sorrow, even when in the privacy of his own home, but on the day he was stopped in Diagon Alley by a weathered old crone, shrieking that he had killed Lily, that he may as well have cast the Avada Kedavra himself and slaughtered her to satisfy his "bloodlust", he apparated straight to Spinners end, leaving all his purchases behind in the street, collapsed to the floor, and wept.

Stop it. Thinking like this is dangerous. You can't go back into this part of your head, idiotic old fool. Forcing himself out of his inner monologue, Severus turned his attention to the spectre floating behind the desk in the centre of the room. Even as a ghost, Albus refused to be rid of his swirling robes, his incredibly large hat and the glimmering beads peeking out through the folds of his beard, which incidentally looked to be a brighter white than ever, surrounded by its ghostly, ethereal aura.

"Ahem"

"Ah, Severus, you took your time my boy, did I not say this was an urgent matter?" That blasted twinkle. If death hasn't rid the old bat of it, nothing will.

"Of course, however, I was sidetracked by a couple of your blasted Gryffindors. They seemed to be quite interested in each others tonsils, and, as a head of house I felt it necessary to halt their interactions and deduct points before either of them injured themselves in their, ahem, sport."

"Oh come now Severus, don't you remember when you were a young man?"

"Yes. Thankfully it was a long time ago, and I will never again have to deal with the hell that was teenage life. Apart from when I have to handle inappropriate performances of the baser aspects of it from your delightful students." Severus tried to fill this statement with as much malice as possible. His head had not been in its rightful place this evening, but he was not going to let Albus catch onto that.

"You mean you can't handle a few lovers playing tonsil basketball?" Despite his misquotation of the popular phrase, Albus' twinkle seemed to brighten. Severus cringed.

"Are you going to get around to telling me your urgent business?"

"Ah. Yes." The headmaster's face turned grave, and the ethereal glow that surrounded his spectre dimmed slightly. "I do not pretend to know what goes on in that head of yours Severus, but I believe I know you well enough to be certain of a few things. I take it you are still in touch with the, ahem, sources you became acquainted with during the years you spent serving Riddle?"

Severus' face coloured slightly. He hadn't meant for the old man to know about those particular correspondences. True, despite the fact that they were all still having a lengthy holiday in Azkaban, most of those convicted of conspiring with the dark lord had, in fact, been under the imperius curse, most of which had been cast by Voldemort himself. However, it was deemed by the Wizengamot "highly unlikely" that such a number of followers, over 2000 in all, could have been affected by the magic of one lone wizard. As such, all those pleading innocent under the influence of Unforgivables had been locked away with the rest of their black hearted, twisted associates. Severus still kept in contact with some of the honest ones, who still heard rumours flitting about from their cellmates and the like. The fact that Albus seemed to know these intimate details worried him. If he knows, who the hell else does?! If that rat Skeeter finds out about this I'm doomed.

As though he could read Severus' mind, Albus' face creased into a knowing grin. "Do not worry my boy, I highly doubt that anyone else is aware of these little conversations. In fact, the last time I saw Miss Skeeter pottering about your classroom in her charming animagus, I had Peeves make good use of his talents. If I remember correctly, he accidentally trapped her in a potions vial, which was then given to a miss Elizabeth Cartwright to use for her mid term potions test. Apparently she lost one of her wings in the process." Albus' smirked, and the twinkle in his eye returned. "I was informed of the little mishap in your class earlier. Perhaps Miss Cartwright would be more suited to Herbology, eh? Oh blast it all." This final comment was uttered upon the Headmaster looking down, and taking note of the fact that he had just walked through the centre of his desk and had a jar of sherbet lemons suspended in his midriff. "I really need to start paying attention to where I walk. Passing through walls is one thing, but this…"

"Ahem. As per your inquiry, yes, I do still communicate with some of my less fortunate acquaintances."

"Oh, yes. Sorry about that my boy. In that case, I take it you have heard about the discovery that has many a dark witch and wizard on their toes."

Severus frowned, the furrow in his brow deepening at the motion. " I have heard no such thing."

"Then it seems your sources are not as reliable as they used to be." With a sigh, Albus' removed the floating confectionary from his beard and made to sit down. "My boy, have you heard of the ceremony known as the Sacrificium alligantes?"

Severus took a moment, racking his brain for any trace of recognition. "The sacrifice of the bonded?"

"The sacrifice of the bound. It is an ancient ritual. To my knowledge, it has never been performed. And for good reason."

Severus, not usually one for beating around the bush, found himself hanging on the old man's every word. He could tell that whatever this ritual entailed, it was troubling Albus immensely.

" 'The Bound' is a term given to rarities in our world Severus. Divination and psychic links are considered commonplace by many witches and wizards, although, as you may have noticed, very few are capable of truly interacting with the future, and other dimensions. Sybil is one of these few." Severus snorted, earning himself a stern look from his mentor. "Do not scoff Severus. Despite her reputation, Sybil does have the gift. Her prophecies have saved many lives. Do not underestimate her."

Crazy old goat. I do not underestimate her. I simply refuse to believe that anything good that comes of her insane drivelling is at all under her control.

"Now, I do not mean to say that Sybil's prophecies are at all under her control" Thought not. "That is a very rare ability, which comes to only a few in a generation. These few, who are able to consciously control the power needed to interact with the other psychic dimensions are capable of things we can only dream of, Severus. Telekinetic abilities, seeing not only glimpses of future and past occurrences, but whole months, possibly years of it. And above all, Astral projection. I trust you have heard of this?"

" Yes. The subject is able to separate their physical body and their subconscious presence, allowing the latter to roam freely about the astral plain, leaving their physical form behind." Severus' voice grew thick, worry starting to build up in his gut. " In lamens terms, they are able to separate their body from their soul. And they can see things in a way no other person can."

"Yes"

Severus' mind began to work over time. If someone with these talents had turned to the dark, gods above knows what they would be capable of. Sensing his worry, Albus broke him out of his state. "Severus, I am not finished. Although these individuals are indeed a rarity, it is unlikely that you will find more than twenty in England at any one time, there are rare cases, extremely rare, in which these people are able to go one step further."

Severus' jaw slackened. Further than tearing your soul from your body and allowing it to walk around without you?!

" There have been cases, where during Astral projection, peoples souls have gone to another place entirely. I do not mean by this that they have gone on a mini-break to Paris for a few days, or travelled overseas before returning to the host's body. They have gone to a place not of this world. There is, Severus, a place consisting of nothingness, save for souls of Wizards and Witches. It is a dark place. By all accounts, or the very few accounts we have of it, existing in this place is akin to a never-ending Dementor's kiss. A minute there is akin to a lifetime. And once every ten generations or so, there will be one person capable of entering this place through the astral plain. Through psychics like Sybil, miniscule portions of this other plain seep through, causing subconscious links to the future, resulting in her prophecies. Through those who can enter the plain itself, while that person lives, a bond is created between that realm and our own. These individuals are known as 'Bound', and through this link, the living are able to manipulate the dead."

Albus gave the potions master a few moments to digest the information given to him. When Severus finally spoke up, his voice came out hoarse and dry. "And one of these 'Bound' has been discovered? Here?"

"Yes."

"And what does this have to do with this ritual?"

Albus sighed wearily, as if the weight of the words he was holding was too much for him. " The Sacrificium alligantes consists of a link being made through a very powerful psychic to the other side, allowing a second party to call upon a soul of the departed. This second party must in turn be a very powerful wizard, not necessarily of psychic ability, but strong in the conviction of his actions. Once a soul has been found, the psychic's blood must anoint the passage of the soul from the other realm into this one. In other words, the psychic is sacrificed in order to make a doorway for the soul to pass through. Once on this plain, the soul's body is returned to it, as it was at the hour of it's demise. It also steals the power from the sacrifice given to it."

Severus' face had turned ashen and pale as Albus explained the steps of the ceremony. "And the powerful psychic, it must be one of the Bound?" Albus nodded. "So, what you are trying to say, is that someone out there has begun a search for this Bound, and intends to bring a powerful Wizard back from the grave." Albus nodded again.

"And I assume you know which wizard is to be resurrected, my boy?"

A silence filled the room for a second. "Voldemort." More silence. "Where are they?" The words came out of Severus' mouth as no more than a whisper. "WHERE ARE THEY? THIS PSYCHIC? WHERE?" Severus' face reflected his inner turmoil as though a mirror had been placed before his heart. His eyes shone black, and his lips stretched tight against his teeth in a primal grimace indicative of a man whose salvation had been placed before him, only to be ripped away from him leaving a gaping, bloody hole behind.

"Be calm my boy. We know where she is. She is safe, for now. I asked you here because I need you to go to her. I need you to protect her."

"Her? You know who she is?" Severus' face calmed for a moment, his heart slowly returning to a steady beat.

"Yes." Once again, the headmaster failed to provide any more detail that that which was asked of him. This particular trait infuriated Severus, especially in times like this, when Severus was already treading the thin line between feigned calm, and ripping someone's spine out.

"Well, Who The Bloody Hell Is She?!"

Albus smiled slightly, though it did not reach his eyes. "Merida Trelawney, my boy. Sybil's sister."