The shadowed silhouette of the long standing dilapidated castle bathed in moonlight sent shivers down ones spine for many reasons. For the regrettably uninformed it posed a threat of howling wind and sickening feeling that there was something watching your every move that made the sanest of people flee back to normality over the too perfect lawn. It was funny how it was stilling after all those years. Only a select few knew the truth behind those crumbling walls, all of them possessing secrets of incredible magic within their soul waiting to be set free. At the moment the magic was dormant in every young British witch and wizard curled up in fire lit dormitories encircled by the mature magic of the castle and slumbering staff. All except one. Illuminated by the pale overhanging moon the dark figure strided briskly across the grass toward the looming forest towards an uncertain death, his black cloak billowing behind him. Once again Severus had been summoned to another death eater gathering. The third this week. The once uneasy whisperings were now true; the Dark Lord was regaining use of the terrible power an annoying little brat has stolen from him.
He shuddered uncontrollably as the Dark Lords power began to scorch the flesh around his tainted forearm. The dark mark had made its presence known so frequently that he didn't need to scream with pain anymore but the sight of it wriggling on his arm never failed to make him feel nauseous; it was a permanent reminder of his betrayal to his souls true intentions, of his irreversible mistake and a horrific past that would forever haunt him whenever exhaustion would force his eyes shut.
The Dark Lord was angry, furious judging by the blisters cropping up around the burning skin, he didn't know which hurt more –the blisters or the fact his unwilling service to the madman had become so routine that he could gauge his moods. Severus hated this job with a passion- withholding and gaining informant from the lion's den was definitely more stressful than a double lesson with Longbottom but to be honest that part of his life he wasn't to bother about. He was alone apart from the companionship and warmth a bottle of fire whiskey could bring and the promised reward of redemption for a bloodthirsty youth. The information though...if Voldemort got a hold of that all the tactics and strategies of the order, the warriors of light would be snuffed out like lamps and the people Severus had grudgingly come to care for would die because of amateur mistakes. He knew they didn't care for him but they were one ray of warmth in an otherwise bitter life.
"Severus! Calm. Down imagine Potter's in the vicinity" he grated out through painful heart palpitations which he refused to call fear .Seventeen years in undercover service ,seventeen years of torture so there really was kind of justification for the panic that accompanied when reaching the apparition point. With one last longing look at Hogwarts
He disapparated.
Oblivious to the horror he was about to experience.